inclement that can possibly
be imagined, whilst during spring, summer and early autumn it well merits
its local reputation as _il piccolo paradiso_ of the Bay of Naples, and
its air is considered by Neapolitans as the "balm in Gilead" for every
evil to which human flesh is heir. The Lactarian Mountains protect the
plain of Sorrento in summer from the scorching rays of the sun, and lay
their beneficent shadow for several hours of the long hot summer's day
over the many thousands who dwell on the fertile Piano di Sorrento at
their base. But in winter these same hills intercept the blessed sunshine,
which is what most travellers speed southwards to obtain, and leave the
coast line from Castellamare to the Punta di Sorrento with its northern
aspect wrapped in shade and moisture, whilst the remainder of the Bay is
still basking in the genial warmth, so that anything more miserable than a
mid-winter sojourn in Sorrento it would be impossible to conceive. There
are of course calm warm days to be met with even in December and January,
but these are occasional and by no means dependable blessings, and the
visitor who persists in taking up his abode here at this season of the
year must prepare himself to experience cold, damp, wind and rain, without
any of the contrivances or comforts of a northern winter. "One swallow
does not make a summer," and on the same principle a southern latitude and
the presence of orange groves do not necessarily imply a salubrious
climate; indeed, the sub-tropical surroundings seem to add an extra degree
of chilliness to the place. To sit at Christmastide in a large lofty room
before a meagre fire of sputtering smoky logs, with Vesuvius wrapped from
crest to base in a white mantle of new fallen snow, and with an icy
_tramontana_ from the bleak Abruzzi howling round the house, bending the
bay trees and penetrating into every corner of the chamber, is by no means
the ideal picture of a winter in the Sunny South; yet this is only what
the traveller must be prepared to face, and is very likely to obtain. Nor
is the cold compensated for by any advantages in the neighbourhood itself,
for there is but the high road from Castellamare which passes through the
town and leads above the seashore to Massa Lubrense. It is all very well
in its way, but in wet weather its surface is one sheet of slippery mud,
and the streams pouring down the hillside make it chilly and damp for all
who are not quick walkers. Besides th