escended downstairs in the morning, they found the house cleared, the
hearth ready swept, and all the contents of last night's supper-table
relaid on the brick floor, but _d'un modo squisito_, such as no human hand
could ever have been deft enough to contrive. Just a simple innocent
trifle of Sorrentine folk-lore, but how closely does it resemble the
old-time gossip of rustic England, of which the great poet has left us so
charming a picture!--

"Tells how the drudging Goblin sweat
To earn his cream-bowl duly set,
When in one night, ere glimpse of morn,
His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn
That ten day labourers could not end."

For, as we have already said, the Monacelli show themselves grateful to
those who anticipate their wants, and will serve their votaries with
industry and fidelity. _Fuore avra il Monacello in casa_--perhaps he has
had the Fairy in the house--has passed into a local phrase to designate a
neighbour's unexplained prosperity. But, again, the lucky recipient of
these favours must never blab or even hint at the origin of his good
fortune, for all gossip is highly distasteful to the fairy folk; and that,
we suppose, is the true reason why so little authentic information can be
gleaned as to the methods of the Monacelli.

In direct contrast with the Monacelli of the ravines, who are, on the
whole, well inclined towards mortals, are the Maghe, first cousins
evidently to the terrible _ginns_ of Arabian folk-lore; perhaps the
Saracenic pirates themselves may have introduced their oriental sprites to
the Neapolitan shores. In the popular mind the Maghe are supposed to
possess vast treasures hidden in caves by the seashore, or on the bleak
mountain side, and it was doubtless concerning these spirits that the
guide's tale, given in a previous chapter, relates. The most celebrated
Maga of all is the demon who haunts a certain underground corridor near
Pozzuoli, containing an immense hoard of gold and jewels, which he is
willing to present to anybody that is ready to give in exchange a new-born
baby, presumably for purposes of devouring. Nor was the general belief in
the cave-dwelling monster at Pozzuoli limited to the poor peasants and
fisher-folk, for rumour persistently asserted that King Francis of Naples,
father of Bomba of impious memory, more than once attempted to negotiate
with the guardian of this buried treasure; but the Maga's terms, it seems,
were too bloodthirsty and extravagant e