was dug up, except
Brown and me--and, of course, Aunt Mary.

Brown knew about fascinating Italian restaurants, and he drove us up on
the automobile for tea to a new hotel on a high hill, almost a mountain.
It's the "smart" thing for people who know to go up to tea, which--if
it's fine--you have on a great terrace that is the most beautiful thing
in all Naples. And we spent a whole morning up at St. Elmo. That is
going to be my best recollection, I think, and--you will laugh--but the
next best will be the Aquarium. When you came to Naples was there a
thing in the Aquarium like the ghost of a cucumber, transparent as
glass, with strings of opals and rubies being drawn through its veins
every two minutes regularly? Brown says that it--or its ancestor--has
been there ever since he can remember. I like that green light in the
Aquarium, which makes you feel as if you were a mermaid under the sea,
and inclined to swim instead of walk.

When we were driving up to the hotel, Brown said it was almost as steep
and winding as the road from Capri to Anacapri. That speech, and gazing
from our balcony at Parker's over the blue bay to the island which looks
like the Sphinx rising out of the sea, have made me distracted to take
the automobile to Capri. Brown "doesn't advise it," and thinks "we may
have great trouble in landing," but that makes me want the adventure all
the more; so we're going to-morrow--not just for a day, like the people
who don't care about Tiberius, and think the Blue Grotto is the only
thing to see--but to stay for several days. Brown says one could find a
new walk on the island for every day of a whole month, and each would be
absolutely different from the other, though Capri is only three and a
half miles long and about a mile and a half in width.

I feel as if we were in for something exciting, just as you feel, I
suppose, when you are going to bring off a big _coup_ "in the street."

Your Chip-of-the-old-Block,
Molly.

P.S.--I wouldn't post my Naples letter. I thought if I did, you might
imagine that we and our car had been engulphed in the sea, unless you
got the end of the adventure tacked on to the beginning; so this is to
be a fat postscript. Yes, a gorged python of a postscript.

At first the dock people couldn't be persuaded that we seriously
intended to take an automobile to the island of Capri; an