ted with persons who recalled Germany by its beer and Spain by
its fleas, or those who said: "Cologne! Oh yes; I remember we got such
a good breakfast there."

Ah, ha! It is so easy to sniff when one is mooning in imagination over
cathedrals, but I have since taken back all those sniffs. I did not
realize then the misery of standing on one foot all the morning in
tombs, and on the other all the afternoon in museums, and then of
going home to sleep on an ironing-board. Now I, too, think gratefully
of the Bay of Naples as being near that good bed, and of the Pyramids
as being near the excellent table of Shepheard's. Why not? Can one
rave over Vesuvius on an empty stomach, or get all the beauty out of
Sorrento with a backache? One must be well and have good spirits when
one travels. It is not so essential merely to be comfortable, although
that helps wonderfully. But even to get soaking wet could not utterly
spoil the road to Posilipo. What a heavenly drive! Although I think
with more fondness of scaling the heights of Capri in a trembling
little Italian cab, not because both views were not divinely
beautiful, but because when in Capri my clothes were not damply
sticking to me, and I had no puddle of water in each shoe. As I look
back I believe I could write specific directions from personal
experience on "How to be Happy when Miserable." Jimmie always bewails
the fact that the American girl lives on her nerves. "Goes on her
uppers" is his choice phrase. Nevertheless, it pulled us through many
a mental bog while travelling so continuously.

Therefore, from a dozen different recollections of Naples, eleven of
which you may read in your red-covered Baedeker, or _Recollections of
Italy_, or _Leaves from my Note-Book_, or _Memories of Blissful
Hours_, and similar productions, I have most poignantly to remember
our shopping experiences in Naples. But before launching my battleship
I owe an apology to the worshippers of Italy. I can appreciate their
rapturous memories. I share in a measure their enthusiasm. To a
certain temper Italy would be adorable for a honeymoon or to return to
a second or a fifth time. But it is not in human nature, after having
come from Russia, Egypt, and Greece, to have one's pristine enthusiasm
to pour out in torrents over the ladylike beauty of Italy, because
these other countries are so much more unfrequented, more pagan, and
more fascinating. But in daring to say that, I again pull my forelock
to I