esence, on boards for purchase. It is not good
to the uncultivated taste; but the stranger may stop and drink, with
relish and refreshment, the orangeade and lemonade mixed with snow and
sold at the little booths on the street-corners. These stands looks
much like the shrines of the Madonna in other Italian cities, and a
friend of ours was led, before looking carefully into their office,
to argue immense Neapolitan piety from the frequency of their
ecclesiastical architecture. They are, indeed, the shrines of a god
much worshiped during the long Neapolitan summers; and it was the
profound theory of the Bourbon kings of Naples, that, if they kept
their subjects well supplied with snow to cool their drink, there was
no fear of revolution. It shows how liable statesmen are to err, that,
after all, the Neapolitans rose, drove out the Bourbons, and welcomed
Garibaldi.

The only part of the picturesque life of the side streets which seems
ever to issue from them into the Toledo is the goatherd with his
flock of milch-goats, which mingle with the passers in the avenues as
familiarly as with those of the alley, and thrust aside silk-hidden
hoops, and brush against dandies' legs, in their course, but keep on
perfect terms with every body. The goatherd leads the eldest of the
flock, and the rest follow in docile order and stop as he stops to ask
at the doors if milk is wanted. When he happens to have an order, one
of the goats is haled, much against her will, into the entry of a,
house, and there milked, while the others wait outside alone, nibbling
and smelling thoughtfully about the masonry. It is noticeable that
none of the good-natured passers seem to think these goats a great
nuisance in the crowded street; but all make way for them as if they
were there by perfect right, and were no inconvenience.

On the Toledo people keep upon the narrow sidewalks, or strike out
into the carriage-way, with an indifference to hoofs and wheels which
one, after long residence in tranquil Venice, cannot acquire, in
view of the furious Neapolitan driving. That old comprehensive gig of
Naples, with which many pens and pencils have familiarized the reader,
is nearly as hard to find there now as the _lazzaroni_, who have gone
out altogether. You may still see it in the remoter quarters of
the city, with its complement of twelve passengers to one horse,
distributed, two on each thill, four on the top seats, one at each
side, and two behind; but