ing feet his wealth will lay down a path of pearls and gold. The
lonely, star-lit nights at sea encourage such phantasms; and the break
of the waves upon the bow, with their myriad of phosphorescent sparkles,
cheats and illumines the fancy. We will not follow him throughout his
voyage. On a balmy morning of July he wakes with the great cliff of
Gibraltar frowning on him. After this come light, baffling winds, and
for a week he looks southward upon the mysterious, violet lift of the
Barbary shores, and pushes slowly eastward into the blue expanse of the
Mediterranean. In the Sicilian ports he is abundantly successful. He has
ample time to cross over to Naples, to ascend Vesuvius, and to explore
Herculaneum and Pompeii. But he does not forget the other side of the
beautiful bay, Baiae and Pozzuoli. He takes, indeed, a healthful pleasure
in writing to the Doctor a description of this latter, and of his walk
in the vicinity of the great seaport where St. Paul must have landed
from his ship of the Castor and Pollux, on his way from Syracuse. But he
does not tell the Doctor that, on the same evening, he attended an opera
at the San Carlo in Naples, of which the ballet, if nothing else, would
have called down the good man's anathema.

An American of twenty-five, placed for the first time upon the sunny
pavements of Naples, takes a new lease of life,--at least of its
imaginative part. The beautiful blue stretch of sea, the lava streets,
the buried towns and cities, the baths and ruins of Baiae, the burning
mountain, piling its smoke and fire into the serene sky, the memories of
Tiberius, of Cicero, of Virgil,--all these enchant him. And beside these
are the things of to-day,--the luscious melons, the oranges, the figs,
the war-ships lying on the bay, the bloody miracle of St. Januarius, the
Lazzaroni upon the church steps, the processions of friars, and always
the window of his chamber, looking one way upon blue Capri, and the
other upon smouldering Vesuvius.

At Naples Reuben hears from the captain of the Meteor--in which good
ship he has made his voyage, and counts upon making his return--that the
vessel can take up half her cargo at a better freight by touching at
Marseilles. Whereupon Reuben orders him to go thither, promising to join
him at that port in a fortnight. A fortnight only for Rome, for
Florence, for Pisa, for the City of Palaces, and then the marvellous
Cornice road along the shores of the sea. Terracina brought