ly clad, are the sole occupants of the church, and they are evidently
too much absorbed in prayer to notice our presence. They have placed
beside the Madonna's altar lighted tapers which glimmer feebly in a shaft
of strong sunlight that falls through a rent in the curtain overhead. For
what purpose, we wonder, have these candles been bought out of a scanty
store! Are they burning on behalf of some sailor-boy now being tossed upon
the ocean? Or are they offered to obtain some boon more selfish and less
pathetic? At any rate, this pair of intent worshippers, representing fresh
Southern youth and crabbed age, make up a pretty picture as they kneel
together on the pavement of tiles ornamented in bright rococo patterns to
represent the coat-of-arms of some forgotten noble benefactor: it is too
simple and everyday a sight in Italy to offer a theme for verse, too
sacred a subject for an idle photograph. We leave the church on tip-toe,
and return to the terrace with its low marble seats and its stunted acacia
trees to sit a few moments before re-entering the carriage.

[Illustration: EVENING AT AMALFI]

Skirting the Capo di Conca we obtain our first sight of proud Amalfi, and
we realize that our drive, long in distance perhaps, but all too short
with its varied beauties and interests, is drawing to a close. Nearer and
nearer do we approach our goal, the shining turrets of the Cathedral tower
acting as our beacon, until at length our chariot clatters beneath the
echoing tunnel hewn in the cliff that leads into the town itself.

CHAPTER VI

AMALFI AND THE FESTIVAL OF ST ANDREW

The traveller's first impressions of Amalfi, which is essentially the
beauty-spot of the Riviera of Naples, are usually associated with the old
Capuchin convent, long since turned into a hotel and now the bourne of
most visitors to this coast. Its arcaded facade and its terraced garden
stand on a plateau seemingly cut out of the sheer face of the cliff,
whilst high above the town the lofty barren rocks enfold the Convent and
its verdant demesne within a natural amphitheatre and protect this sunny
paradise from the keen blasts of winter. A flight of steps zigzagging up
the rocky hill-side connects the building with the high road below; whilst
a narrow pathway, leading between stone walls and now passing beneath dark
mysterious archways, wherein the lamps burning before the Madonna's
shrines