hings.

The Neapolitan people, in some respects, are not civilized at all; but
their vulgarity does not at all resemble that of other nations. Their
very rudeness interests the imagination. The African coast which borders
the sea on the other side is almost perceptible; there is something
Numidian in the savage cries which are heard in every part of the city.
Those swarthy faces, those vestments formed of a few pieces of red or
violet stuff whose deep colours attract the eye, even those very rags in
which this artistic people drape themselves with grace, give to the
populace a picturesque appearance, whilst in other countries they
exhibit nothing but the miseries of civilization. A certain taste for
finery and decoration is often found in Naples accompanied with an
absolute lack of necessaries and conveniences. The shops are agreeably
ornamented with flowers and fruit. Some have a festive appearance that
has no relation to plenty nor to public felicity, but only to a lively
imagination; they seek before every thing to please the eye. The
mildness of the climate permits mechanics of every class to work in the
streets. The tailors are seen making clothes, and the victuallers
providing their repasts, and these domestic occupations going on out of
doors, multiply action in a thousand ways. Singing, dancing, and noisy
sports, are very suitable to this spectacle; and there is no country
where we feel more clearly the difference between amusement and
happiness. At length we quit the interior of the city, and arrive at the
quays, whence we have a view of the sea and of Mount Vesuvius, and
forget then all that we know of man.

Oswald and Corinne arrived at Naples, whilst the eruption of Mount
Vesuvius yet lasted. By day nothing was seen but the black smoke which
mixed with the clouds; but viewing it in the evening from the balcony of
their abode it excited an entirely unexpected emotion. A river of fire
descends towards the sea, and its burning waves, like the billows of the
sea, express the rapid succession of continual and untiring motion. One
would say that when nature transforms herself into various elements she
nevertheless preserves some traces of a single and primal thought. The
phenomenon of Vesuvius deeply impresses us. We are commonly so
familiarised with external objects that we hardly perceive their
existence; we scarcely ever feel a new emotion in the midst of our
prosaic countries, but that astonishment which the