is very steep, we sometimes sink into the ashes nearly up to our knees, and altogether it is a piece of very tough work. But if any of us feel unequal to it, we can be taken up in chairs, each borne by two stout porters. We can not be sure what we are going to see when we are at the summit; smoke and vapor are constantly arising from the crater, and sometimes the wind blows this toward us, and makes it impossible to see into the great abyss; but at other times we may approach quite near, and see the smoke and steam rising from below, while stones and masses of lava are thrown into the air, and fall back into the crater. The ground in some places is so hot that eggs may be roasted by simply allowing them to lie upon it. If we are not careful, some of us will have the soles of our shoes badly burned by walking over these hot places. The sight of this great crater always burning, and smoking, and seething, and sometimes throwing the light of great fires up

no particular danger on the top of Vesuvius. If the weather is fine, we get a grand view of the bay and the country around about; and even if we have been frightened or tired, or have to get a pair of new shoes when we go down the mountain, the fact that we have looked into the crater of an active volcano is something that we shall always remember with satisfaction.

As long as we are anywhere on the Bay of Naples we need never expect to be rid of Vesuvius; and, indeed, we need not wish to, for by day and night it is one of the finest features of the landscape. The people in Naples and all the surrounding country justly consider it the greatest attraction to travelers. Every hotel-keeper, no matter how little his house is, or where it is situated, has a picture made of it with Vesuvius smoking away in the background. The poor mountain is thus moved about from place to place, without any regard to its own convenience, in order that tourists may

know that, if they come to any one of these hotels, they may always have a good view of a grand volcano.

One of our excursions will be a drive along the eastern shore of the bay to the little town of Sorrento, and we shall find the road over which we go one of the most beautiful, if not the most beautiful, that we have ever seen in our lives. On one side are the mountains and hills covered with orange and lemon groves, olive and pomegranate trees, and vineyards; and on the other, the beautiful blue waters of the bay, with its distant islands raising their misty purple outlines against the cloudless sky. Sorrento, the home of wood-carving, as many of you may know, was a favorite summer resort of the ancients, and the old Romans used to come here for sea-bathing. Near by are the rocks on which, according to ancient tradition, the sirens used to sit and sing for the sole purpose, so far as we have been able to discover, of exciting the attention of the sailors on passing ships, and attracting them to the rocks where they might be wrecked. We can get boats and row beneath these very rocks, but never a siren shall we see, although there are great caves into which the water flows and into the gloomy and solemn depths of which we can row for quite a long distance, and imagine, if we please, that the sirens are hiding behind the rocks in the dark corners, but knowing very well that, as we have heard about their tricks and their manners, it will be of no use for them to sing their songs to Even now the people of Sorrento have fancies of this sort, and many believe that the ravines near the town are inhabited by dwarfs. There are a great many interesting and pleasant things about Sorrento; but, after all, the object which we shall look at the most and find the most enjoyable is our friend Vesuvius. The great volcano is many miles from us now, but as long as we are in this bay we can not avoid it. All day it sends up its beautiful curling column of steam, which rises high into the air and spreads out like a great white tree against the sky, while at night this high canopy of vapors is lighted at intervals to a rosy brightness by flashes of fire from the crater below. And from this point of view the volcano shows us at night another grand sight. Some distance below the summit four streams of lava have broken out, and, after running some distance down the mountain-side, flow again into the ground and disappear. At night we can see that these lava streams are red-hot, and, viewed from afar, they look like four great rivers of fire. months these have been steadily flowing, and after a time they will disappear, and the mountain will set itself to work to devise some other kind of fireworks with which to light up the nightly scene.

us.

For

From Sorrento we shall take a little steamer to the island of Capri, in the most southern part of the bay. The town has no wharves at which a steamboat can lie, and so we take small boats and row out to wait for the steamboat which comes from Naples and stops here. The poet Tasso was born in Sorrento, and as we row along the river front of the town, the greater part of which is perched upon rocks high above the water, we shall float directly over his house, or rather the foundations of it, which we can see a few feet below us through the clear, transparent water. Once the town extended much farther into the bay than it does now; year by year the water encroached upon the land, and now there are but few places at the foot of the cliffs where there is room for houses. While we are waiting here, several boats filled with Italian boys, some of them very little fellows, row out to us and sing songs and choruses for our benefit, hoping for coppers in return. The little fellows sing with great vivacity, keeping admirable time and clapping their hands and wagging their heads, as if they were fired with the spirit of their songs. They are not at all like sirens, but they will charm some money from us; and when we seem to have had enough music, they will offer to dive into the water after copper coins, each wrapped in a piece of white paper so that they can see it as it sinks. While engaged in this sport, the steamboat comes up, the steps are let down, we climb on board, and are off for Capri.

This island has long been noted for two things,— its Blue Grotto and its pretty girls. We shall have to take some trouble to see the first, but the latter will spare themselves no trouble to see us, as we shall presently find. It is not often that any one examines an island so thoroughly as to go under it, over it, and around it, but this we shall do at Capri, and we shall begin by going under it.

It is only when the weather is fine and the sea is smooth that the celebrated Blue Grotto can be visited, and as everybody who goes to the island desires to see this freak of Nature, the steamboat, when the weather is favorable, proceeds directly to the grotto. We steam for a mile or two along the edge of the island, which appears like a great mountain-top rising out of the water, and come to a stop near a rocky precipice. At the foot of this we see a little hole, about a yard high, and somewhat wider. Near by lie a number of small boats, each rowed by one man, and as soon as our steamboat nears the place, these boats are pulled toward us with all the power of their oarsmen, jostling and banging against each other, while the men shout and scold as each endeavors to be the first to reach the steamboat. In these boats we are to enter the grotto, three of us in each, that being

the greatest number they are allowed to carry. When we go down the side and step into the boats, we are told that we must all lie down flat in the bottom, for, if our heads or shoulders are above the sides of the boat, they may get an awkward knock in going through the hole in the rock, which is the only entrance to the grotto. As one boat after another pushes off from the steamer, the girls will probably nestle down very closely, but I think most of the boys will keep their faces turned upwards, and at least one eye open to see

THE ISLAND OF CAPRI.

what is going to happen. The water of the bay seemed quite smooth when we were on the steamboat, but there is some wind, and we now find that the waves are running tolerably high against the rocky precipice before us, and dashing in and out of the hole which we are to enter. As we approach this opening the first boat is pulled rapidly toward it, but a wave which has just gone in now comes rolling out, driving the boat back, and

banging it against the others. Some of us are frightened, and wish we were safe again on the steamboat, but there is no danger; these boatmen are very skillful, and if one of them were to allow his boat to upset, he would lose his reputation forever. Again the boat is pulled forward, this time with an in-going wave, and, as it reaches the entrance, the man jerks in his oars, seizes the roof and sides of the aperture with his hands, and with much dexterity and strength shoots his boat into the grotto. One after another, each boat enters,

and as we all sit up and look about us, we find ourselves in a strange and wonderful place. It was worth while to be frightened and jostled a little to be in such a grand seagrotto as this. The floor is a wide expanse of light blue water, not rough like the bay outside, but gently agitated by the waves at the mouth of the cave, and every ripple flecked with silvery light. Each boat, as it moves through the water, has an edging of this rippling light which drips and falls from the oars whenever they are raised. The grotto is quite large, and over all is a domed roof of rock, and this twinkles and sparkles with bluish light. It is indeed, what it has been named, a blue grotto. We naturally wonder where all this blue light comes from. There are no openings in the roof above, and as we look over toward the dark little hole by which we came in, we see that little light can enter there. The fact is that the opening into the cave under the water is much larger than it is above, and the bright sunlight that goes down into the water on the outside comes up through it into the grotto. It goes down like the golden sunlight it is, and it comes

up into the grotto more like moonlight, but blue, sparkling, and brilliant. Everything about us seems weird and strange. One of the men, without a coat, stands up in his boat, and the blue light playing on the under part of his white shirt-sleeves curiously illuminates him. At the far end of the grotto is a little ledge, the only place where it is possible to land, and on this stands a man in thin cotton clothes who offers for a small sum of money to

dive into the water. In a few moments down he goes, and we see him, a great silvery mass, sink far below us. Soon he comes up again, ready to repeat the performance as often as he is paid for it.

The most beautiful description of the Blue Grotto is to be found in "The Improvisatore,” a story by Hans Christian Andersen, in which his rare imagination has thrown into this grotto and over its walls and waters, a fairy-like light that is more beautiful perhaps than the blue light that comes up from the sea. There are persons who have read his account, and the beautiful story of the blind girl and her lover, who have afterward been disappointed when they saw the grotto for themselves; but it is said that if such persons should come a second time the beauty of the place would grow upon them, and they would see the fairy-like scene that they have read about. I never visited the grotto the second time.

After a while, our boats go out rather more easily than they came in, and we are soon on the steamboat, and off for the Marina Grande, or principal landing-place of the island of Capri. There is no wharf, and we are taken off in small boats. The town of Capri is not here; it is high up on the steep hills above us; but there are some houses and one or two hotels scattered about near the water, and very soon the pretty girls come down to meet us, and right glad they are to see us. Some of them are as young as fourteen, and some are as old as twenty; many of them are really quite handsome, with regular features, large, dark eyes, and that clear, lightly-browned complexion which some people think more beautiful than white. They are plainly, but some of them prettily, dressed, and all have bare heads and bare feet. Nearly all of them have strings of coral, which they are not slow to urge us to buy, and we find that it is because they hope to make a little money by selling these, that these pretty girls are so glad to see us. Others are leading little donkeys on which we may ride to the town above. But we shall notice that not one of them is begging. The people of this island are very industrious, and very independent.

Capri was named by the Romans Capreæ, the island of goats, but I do not know whether this name was given because there were a good many goats here, or because it was a good place for goats. The latter would have been an excellent reason, for the island is all "up hill and down dale." Until very recently there were no roads upon the island for carriages or wheeled vehicles, and if people did not walk up and down the steep paths which led everywhere, they rode upon donkeys or horses; but lately roads have been constructed which wind

backward and forward along the hill-sides and precipices to the two small towns upon the island, Capri and Anacapri. Some of us will take pony carriages up the road to Capri; others will walk; and others will ride donkeys, each attended by a woman or a girl, who steers the little beast by the tail, or encourages it with a switch. The island is about half a mile high, and after we reach the little town and have had our dinner we prepare to scatter ourselves over its surface.

seen.

A

We shall find this island one of the finest places for walks, rambles, and scrambles that we have yet After we reach the town, there is no more carriage road, and the principal thoroughfares which lead through the little fields and gardens, and by occasional scattered houses, are about five feet wide, and paved with small round cobblestones. These are not very pleasant to walk on, but we shall soon discover that if these roads were smooth, we should not be able to go up and down them at all. We shall see here very funny little fields of grain, beans, and other crops. Some of the wheat-fields are not much bigger than the floor of a large room in one of our dwelling-houses. The people are poor, and they cultivate every spot of land on which anything useful will grow. half-hour's walk above the town will take us to some high points from which we get beautiful views of the Mediterranean to the south, and the Bay of Naples to the north, while away to the west we can see the island of Ischia, looking so peaceful under the soft blue sky that no one could imagine that only two years ago it had been visited by a terrible earthquake, in which hundreds of people perished. From one of the high places to which we can walk, we look down the precipitous rocks to the sea, far below us; and out in the water, entirely disconnected with the land, we see three great pointed masses of rock, some little distance from the shore. On the very top of one of these is a small house or tower built there by the ancient Romans. What it was intended for, on this almost inaccessible place, is not exactly known, but it is believed that it was built for a tomb. I suppose some of you think that it is a great deal harder to rid ourselves of the Romans than of Vesuvius, but it can not be helped; we shall find that they have been wherever we wish to go. On the land side of this promontory, we look down into a rocky valley called the Vale of Matrimony, near the bottom of which is a great natural arch, or bridge of rock. The name of this vale is a corruption of a name the Romans gave it, and it does not look as if it had anything to do with matrimony. Another of our walks will take us to a very high point, on which are some ruins of the Villa of Tiberius, the Roman Emperor. This

gentleman, having involved himself in a great deal of trouble at home, concluded to retire to this rocky island, where he would be safe from his enemies, and here he lived until his death in the year 37 A. D. Capri must have been a very different place then as far as the manners and customs of its inhabitants are concerned. The Emperor built no less than twelve handsome villas in various parts of the island, and made all necessary arrangements to enjoy himself as much as possible. The villa which we are visiting was one of the largest, and the remains of vaulted chambers and corridors show that it must have been a very fine building. A short distance below it, is the top of a precipice, from which, tradition says, Tiberius used to have those persons whom he had condemned to death thrown down into the sea. This was not an unusual method of execution with the Romans, and if Tiberius really adopted it in this place, his victims must have met with a certain and speedy death. If any of us really desire to see a hermit, we can now be gratified, for one of that profession has his dwelling here. He probably does live here all alone, but he does not look like our ordinary ideal of a hermit. He will be glad to receive some coppers, and also to have us write our autographs in a book which he keeps for the purpose. A hermit autograph-collector in the ruined villa of a Roman Emperor, on the top of a mountainous island in the Mediterranean, is something we did not expect to meet with on our travels.

Wherever we go in our walks about the island we shall meet with the pretty girls. They are always at work, but, unfortunately, they are sometimes engaged in much harder labor than that of selling coral or leading donkeys. Often we may see lines of girls, who, if nicely dressed, and with shoes and stockings on, would do credit in appearance to any boarding-school, each carrying on her head a wooden tray containing stones or mortar for masons who are building a house or wall; and at any time they may be seen going up and down the steep paths of the island carrying heavy loads upon their heads. As I said before, the people here are generally poor, and everybody who can, old and young, must work. Why there are so few boys in comparison with the girls, I do not know. It may be that the boys go away to other parts of the world where they can find work that will pay them better than anything on their

native island.

I said, when we first came here, that we should go under, over, and around this island; and when we have rambled through the valleys and over

the hills, and have paid a visit to Anacapri, the other little town, we may say that we have been over it; when we visited the Blue Grotto, we went under it; and now we shall go around it, by taking boats and making what is called the giro, or circuit of the island. This trip will require several hours, and we shall see that the island of Capri is rather rich in grottoes, and that the monotony of such water caverns is varied by having them of different colors. One of them is the White Grotto, which would doubtless be considered very pretty, if it were the only one here. But afterward we shall see the Green Grotto, which is very beautiful indeed, in which the water and the rocks are of a fine green hue. When we reach the three high rocks, which we saw from above, we shall see that the central one is pierced by an arched opening, through which the boatman will row our boats.

They

And now, having spent as much time on this charming island as we think we can spare, we pack up the valises and other light baggage which we brought with us, and make everything ready to leave the next morning. But when the next morning comes we do not leave. The island of Capri is not a place to which you can come when you choose and from which you can depart when you feel like it. The day is fine, the sun is bright, and the sky is blue; but there is a strong wind blowing, and the bay is full of waves. are not very high waves, to be sure, but anything which has the slightest resemblance to rough weather is sufficient to make the captains of the small steamers which ply between Naples and Capri decide to suspend operations until the bay is smooth again. If people are disappointed and have to stay where they do not wish to stay, they must blame the winds, and not the captains, who, if told that an American or English sailor would think nothing of the little gales that are sufficient to keep them at their anchorage, would probably shrug their shoulders and say that they were not American or English sailors, and were very glad of it.

Sometimes visitors are kept at Capri a week waiting for a steamer. It is possible to go over to Sorrento in a fishing boat, but the roughest part of the bay lies between us and the home of the wood-carvers, and it is not over such water and in little boats that I propose to personally conduct my young friends.

So we may congratulate ourselves that if we have to be imprisoned for a time on an island, there is no pleasanter one for the purpose than Capri, and shall therefore contentedly wait to see what happens next.