lf in any one of a store of _berths_ wrought into that most
unpicturesque tufa, of which the exterior face constitutes the whole
of the sea view of _Baiae._ If ever there were decorations in these
caverns, they are gone; but there probably never were. Diana, Mercury,
Venus, and Apollo all claim brick tenements, called temples, in this
little bay, all close together on the seaside, and none having any
claim at present either on the artist or the poet.

We quit the seaside at this spot, and reach the summit of the hill
above, where there is more torch-work and more disappointment for
those that go a Sybil-seeking with the sixth book of Virgil for a
guide. Those who like it may also grope their way through _Nero's
prisons_, and descend into the _Piscina Mirabilis_, that vast
pilastered cellar like an underground dissenting chapel. They say the
Roman fleet was supplied with water from this huge tank; but if this
had been the intention of its construction, why obstruct it with more
pillars or supports of square masonry than the roof absolutely
required, without which incumbrances a reservoir of half its size
would have held more water,--and for water it was evidently meant?
Ascending the hill we see a man or two working away at a
newly-discovered _tomb_, from which he told us he had removed several
skulls in perfect preservation, even to the teeth of both jaws,
together with some small sepulchral lamps and old copper coins. We
dine on the summit of a low hill, immediately opposite a cape better
known to fame than the Cape of Good Hope--the promontory of _Misenum_,
with _Procida_ and _Ischia_ on our right, and _Nisida_ with its white
lazaretto, and _Puteoli_ (Pozzuoli,) where St Paul landed, on our
left. We took to _plant_ collecting after dinner, and were glad to
learn that we should find at Puzzuoli a celebrated botanist of the
locality, who could declare to us the _unknown_ of all we should
collect. On our return, therefore, the man of science was fetched to
look at our wild nose-gay and at us. We show him a specimen; he calls
it by some outlandish name; we tell him what we want is its _Latin_
one. It _is_ Latin, he says, which he is actually speaking! _We_
thought _not_. A crowd of fishermen and rustics are fast collecting
around us; we try him with another one of the grasses. "_Questo e
asparago_," cries a bumpkin, unasked, from behind. "_Che asparagi?_"
says _il mio Maestro_, "_e Pimpinella._" We show him a _Cytisus_, a