the road above. Golden evening gave a refreshing coolness to the air, and picturesque shadows to the hills. It was a scene,—an hour,—when Nature imparts a quick and living enjoyment akin to the transports of love and the ecstacy of music—it touches a chord whose vibration is happiness. Faint from excessive weariness, yet with regret I consented to return. Night with her stars gathered round us, and with much difficulty our poor little stumbling animals carried us back to the town.
This same evening we wished to prepare for our excursion on the morrow; the plan of which was to visit Ravello, and then to descend the mountain to the sea-shore—take boat, and sail to Salerno, and after dinner to drive back to Sorrento.
Our evening's experience showed that the poor little asses were not fit for such an expedition—we must have recourse to the other alternative, portantini,—arm-chairs placed on poles, borne by two men; we required three, for the three ladies of the party. P——— and his friend, were to walk.
We were told ——— but, remember, I consider all that we heard as very problematical as regards truth—we had no time to learn the real state of things, and I relate the story more to show the sort of wild excuses the Italians make when they want to carry a point profitable to themselves—losing to
