had presented me with an inferior specimen, but I did not relish the salad. I found that there were two different kinds of oil produced, and probably I had tasted the inferior kind, as I pronounced it to be bad. While dinner was preparing I walked over the town, containing about three thousand inhabitants; it is situated on the declivity of the hill, and I found no ancient remains of any importance-nothing, indeed, except an edifice, which was probably the ancient amphitheatre. Many inscriptions have been found, showing that it was at one time a flourishing Roman colony.

Having rested a few hours I continued my journey. The road was excellent for several miles, till I turned to the left, and, crossing the Volturno at Baja, where there are considerable remains of a Roman bridge, proceeded along the course of the old Via Latina. The country round Alife was beautiful, with the lofty Motese rising to the north and east, protecting it from the withering blasts of the Tramontana-north wind and scirocco. I found that the inhabitants regarded their miserable village as a very paradise on earth; and, so far as nature was concerned, they were not mistaken, but man had left her to do everything. I should have preferred to-night for the beauties of the country a comfortable inn where I could have rested in peace. The locanda was filthy, as these places usually are, and I cannot say that I rose from my uneasy couch with a feeling that I had been in paradise. I made inquiry of the landlord whether he knew any one in the village acquainted with the antiquities of Alife, which I was aware were rather more numerous than are usually found in such places, and he directed me to a padre of the church, who took an interest in such matters. I introduced myself as an Englishman, who had heard that Alife was a famed town in ancient times, and who had come to examine the remains of its buildings. I found him intelligent, and he expressed himself delighted to act as my cicerone. We soon got very intimate, being kindred spirits in old-world matters, and he pressed me much to spend the day with him. My time, however, is too precious, and I hurried him off to make the best use of the little time I could bestow on the ruins of Alife.

As we walked along, I remarked that I had crossed the river Volturno in two places yesterday, and it did not present to my eyes the rapidity which I had been led to expect from the description of the Latin poets, of which Silius Italicus (viii. 530) calls it "fluctuque sonorus," "with resounding waters," and Statius (Sylv. iv. 3, 67) speaks of it as "vallibus aviis refusum, "running amidst glens," when he told me he had been at its source, near a place he called Rochetta and Castellone di S. Vincenzo, where it issues from the side of a hill in a copious stream, like, in fact, what I had seen at Boiano a couple of days ago. In its upper course it is rapid, and the sound of its waterfalls are heard in these lonely glens at a great distance. He was a lover of the gentle art, and had spent several days on his way down fishing, and tracing the remains of the ancient bridges, which had once spanned the river much more numerously than they do now. Being a clergyman, he was received kindly in the villages that are perched along its banks. He had traced the ruins of an old abbey, St. Vincenzo in Volturno, which must have been magnificent, from the remains scattered over the hill. About five miles from its source are the remains of the Ponte delli Colli, of which one arch

remains on the western bank of the river, about a mile above the modern bridge, which leads to the Abruzzi. About ten miles below is the old Roman bridge, now called by the peasantry Ponte Ladrone, which is nearly entire, but which a change in the channel of the river has left high and dry. This I understood to be opposite to an old ruined castle, Tuliverno, which I observed picturesquely situated on the hills to the right, as I was driving yesterday from Æsernia. Six miles farther down is the modern Ponte Borbone, conducting to a hunting park belonging to the King of Naples-the Caccia di Torcino, as he called it. Then comes the bridge, of which I had observed the remains yesterday, called Ponte dell' Inferno, about four miles from Alife. About ten miles farther are the remains of another bridge, called Ponte Anicio, several of the pillars of which still exist. Then comes the bridge of old Capua, in ruins; and next the modern bridge on the road leading to Rome. Lastly is the bridge of Domitian, near the mouth of the river, over which ran the road connecting Sinuessa and Cumæ. It is of this bridge that Statius (Sylv. iv. 3) speaks in such enthusiastic terms. What labour and expense had been bestowed on this single river to enable the inhabitants to have easy access to their property, and what a difference in the present age, when three bridges are found more than sufficient to accomplish all that is required!

say

The walls of Alife form a rectangular parallelogram, with gates in the centre of each side protected by bastions. The lower foundations of the walls seem to be of old structure, while the upper part is of a much later date. The numerous inscriptions that have been found show that it was a favourite residence of the Romans, and in the neighbourhood the foundations of many villas are scattered in all directions. It would be wrong to that anything more than the foundations of buildings are to be seen, and even the baths of Hercules at Potito, near Pindemonte, disappointed me. The remains are considerable, but they are only ruins. The city had been well provided with water, as five or six aqueducts are to be traced, and many lead pipes have been dug up. The finest remains of a villa are to be found at Le Grotte, close to St. Angelo Raviscanna, where the vaults are seen, and where rings, cameos, and other curiosities have been dug up. Close to a church, Sta. Maria del Campo, are found other similar grottos, and from an inscription we may infer that the villa belonged to Terentius Celer. It requires a strong mania for antiquities to persevere examining such remains as Alife furnishes, and I was soon satisfied with what I had seen. Thanking my obliging cicerone for the trouble he had taken, and expressing myself highly delighted with the beauties of the natural scenery, I started on my bob-tailed mule towards Cajazzo, the site of the ancient Calatia.

I returned to the north side of the Volturno, and proceeded through a hilly country covered with vines and olive-trees, for a couple of hours, till I came to the small village of Cajazzo, still the same as it was described by Silius Italicus (viii. 210):

Nec parvis aberat Calatia muris.

"Nor was Calatia with its small walls far distant." It is situated on the declivity of a hill, and the ruins are found extending a considerable distance from the present village. In the plains close to the road the

remains of a tomb are seen, which the inhabitants maintain to be that of A. Atilius Calatinus, whom they claim to be a native of their city, and who was a distinguished Roman general in the first Punic war, twice consul, and once dictator. He was highly esteemed both by his contemporaries and by posterity, and his tomb was adorned, as we are told by Cicero (De Senect. 17; De Fin. 11, 35; Pro Planc. 25), with the inscription," Unum hunc plurimæ consentiunt gentes populi primarium fuisse."- 66 Many nations agree that he alone was the noblest of the people." No such inscription was ever found, and we may therefore be allowed to doubt that he was buried here. Some remains of the ancient road leading from Calatia to Capua are still to be seen as you pass along.

I proceeded forward as fast as the heat of the day would permit, being anxious to see one or two places before I reached Naples this evening. I forded the Volturno once more, and, travelling along the south bank, reached the old church, Sto. Angelo in Formis, which is on the site of an ancient Temple of Diana, called Tifatina, from being situated on the north-western slope of Mons Tifata. The pulpit is supported by four columns of white inarble, and the font is constructed out of an ancient pillar. At the entrance there are four large columns of the Corinthian order, two of Oriental granite, and two of cipollino; and in the interior of the church other twelve columns, of a small size. The pavement is of mosaic, formed of beautiful coloured marbles, all, no doubt, taken from the ruins of the ancient temple. There are two walls, partly brick and partly reticulated, which are evidently remains of the temple. It was in the plain below that Sulla defeated the Marian general Norbanus, B.C. 83, and, in gratitude for this victory, he consecrated a considerable tract of land to Diana, the goddess who was worshipped close to the spot where the victory had been won (Vell. Pat. ii. 25). An inscription was found three hundred yards from the church, which states that the Emperor Vespasian restored the territory formerly dedicated by Sulla to the goddess. The church is called by the peasantry St. Angelo a Pisciarello; and, in the middle of the tenth century, an abbey of Benedictine monks was erected close to the church, but it has long been in ruins.

I was now close to the ruins of ancient Capua, which travellers seldom fail to visit when they are in the south of Italy. The amphitheatre rivals the Colosseum of Rome, and there are many other ruins worthy of a visit. I promised, however, to say nothing on any such trite subjects. Alighting at the locanda of Sta. Maria, I requested them to find me a guide to the camp of Hannibal, on Mons Tifata, and, meanwhile, to send to modern Capua for a curricle to be ready to proceed on to Naples when I should return.

I climbed the slopes of the hill rather stiffly, as you may suppose, but at last got to the top, immediately above the site of ancient Capua. It was here that Hannibal had placed an entrenched camp when he was besieging the town. It must have been a delightful spot, as the eye stretches over the fertile plains of Campania, with the sea in the distance, and to the left Vesuvius, which in those days must have been without smoke, though it was "reeking now like a lum on fire." I dare say that this expression is as unintelligible to you as Hebrew, and yet it is

only Scotch. The camp is about a mile distant from Sommacco, on a hill called Montagnino, at a spot having the name of Santa Croce. It was placed on the brow of the hill, which is perpendicular, and forms a semicircle. At the highest point, facing the south, there is a small level space in the form of a circle, called by the peasants Padiglione d'Annibale" the pavilion of Hannibal." The encampment must have been completely isolated, and could only be approached on one side. The padiglione is formed of loose stones, which must have been brought from some distance; and along the north you observe the foundations of what may have been towers.

I had just finished my examination of the entrenchment, and was thinking of departing, as the sun was touching the horizon, when I dropped once more into the hands of the police. Oh, the misery of this country! How police-ridden it is! You have no idea of the annoyance to which you may be at any moment subjected. It seems that I was on a royal preserve-caccia they call it-and one of the keepers came up to inquire how I dared to intrude on such sacred ground without a permit from the head keeper, or some such person, at Naples. I could only say that I was quite in ignorance that I was on such ground, and I trusted that he would overlook an unintentional transgression, though, I confess, that I would have run the risk even if I had known. I offered him a ducat to drink to the health of his majesty, and assured him that I would have joined him in such a loyal toast if I were not anxious to reach Naples to-night. I inquired if the mountain was, in any part of it, covered with holm-oaks, as Festus tells us that Tifata means in the Oscan language "ileceta;" but he said, that though a few might be found scattered here and there, they were not numerous. We parted good friends, and I hastened on to Naples, where, I need not tell you, I was glad to rest from my labours, having successfully carried out my original intentions.

I have still much to see in this part of the country before I bid an eternal farewell to the kingdom of Naples. You have heard of the Caudine Forks, the Islands of the Sirens, and the Lacus Ampsanctus; without a visit to these interesting spots, I should feel that I had only half accomplished my intentions.

XXXI.

FINDING my friend, Dr. Henderson, the author of the "History of Ancient Wines," prepared to make an expedition round the foot of Mount Vesuvius, that he might see the strange effects produced by the various eruptions that had taken place during the last eighteen hundred years, I agreed to join him, as it is part of a country which is seldom examined by travellers. We started at an early hour, and on our way passed the Fontana del Porto, respecting which there is a curious tradition, carrying us back to the Greek origin of the people. On it there was once the carved figure of an owl, which was called the Cucovajo del Porto-the "Owl of the Port;" and though it has disappeared, they still use the expression in this quarter. It has, indeed, changed its meaning, and now signifies an old woman of an hypocritical character.

There is an amusing comedy in the Neapolitan language with this title, written by Cumarano, and which calls forth great applause from the lower class of people. The sailors are said, in ancient times, to have performed some religious rite to the owl before starting on an expedition, and it is by no means unlikely that this was a remnant of an Attic superstition, which had been handed down from the time when they worshipped the owl sacred to Minerva. The sea has evidently receded, as the fountain is at some distance from the beach, and now neglected by the sailors, though the expression still hangs about the spot.

While we were examining it, an uproar got up between two women, who overwhelmed each other with all the Billingsgate expressions they could collect; and, among others, "Malora di Chiaja" seemed to be a great favourite. This means an abandoned woman, and has a curious explanation, reminding me of the old cry of Edinburgh, "Gardez l'eau," when the wives were emptying their dishes from their windows. The street of the Chiaja lies so low and near to the sea, that there is not declivity enough to permit of sewers to carry off the filth from their houses. This compels them to carry it across the street, and throw it into the sea, which is generally done immediately after sunset, when passengers find it indeed to be a "mal'ora"- 66 an evil hour"-from the abominable smells that meet them at every corner. This part of the town is inhabited by the lower class of people, and hence arose the expression "Malora di Chiaja," for a woman of abandoned character.

We hired a boat to carry us to Portici, where the King of Naples has an immense palace, through which the public road passes, setting at defiance all our ideas of royal privacy, though it is a strong characteristic of the whole nation. They love noise, tumult, and parade, from his majesty down to the poorest lazzarone. This is the place where the aristocracy pass their "villegiatura"-" country life"-in October, and you would expect that their houses would be at some distance from the dusty road, that they might enjoy the quiet pleasures of a country life. Such pleasures do not enter into their thoughts, and those who have read Goldoni's plays will understand from his clever satire the state of things here.

Cœlum, non animum mutant, qui trans mare currunt.

"Those who cross the sea change the climate, not their passions," was said by Horace of old, and is still an adage as true as it was in his time. Their country life consists merely in breathing a different air, though in nothing else does it differ from the life they lead in town. If possible, their parties are more numerous, their entertainments more magnificent, their diversions more expensive-in everything the reverse of what a country life ought to be. During the month of their villegiatura the corso, or public drive, takes place under their windows instead of being on the Strada Nuova, at the other end of Naples. They drive up and down this dusty road, and imagine that they are enjoying the delights of a country residence. To the weary traveller returning from a visit to Pæstum, this corso is sometimes a great annoyance, if he happen to fall in with it, as once occurred to myself. He must keep in the line of carriages, however anxious he may be to get to his destination, and he may meet four or five royal carriages, when the whole line must stop and pay obeisance to the royal personages,