eir background of daffodil sky. Stars are beginning to peep in the
firmament, and yellow lights, the stars of earth, are springing up fast in
the town below, and even appearing at rare intervals of space amongst the
cottages of the woody hillside, or upon the fishing boats that lie on the
bosom of the Bay, now turning to a deep purple under the advancing shadows
of night. A cheerful concert of unseen insects greets our ears as we
descend rapidly towards Atrani, whilst the goatbells amid the distant
pastures tinkle pleasantly from time to time. We soon exchange the dewy
freshness of evening in the country for the heavy air, thick with dust,
that hangs over the coast road, and in a few moments more find ourselves
at the foot of the rock-cut staircase that leads to our convent inn.

* * * * * *

But our days upon the beautiful Costiera d'Amalfi are at an end, and the
moment has at last come for us to bid farewell to these enchanted scenes
and to the ancient city slumbering peacefully in its rocky valley by the
shore. Our rows upon the glassy waters of the Bay, our scrambles up the
wild scrub-covered hillsides above the town, our evening walks along the
broad high-road to catch the fleeting glories of the sun-set,--all are
ended; the day, the hour of departure has actually arrived.

Casting a longing look behind we quit Amalfi in the cool of the evening,
in order to cover the eight intervening miles of coast road that lie
between us and Salerno. We pass Atrani, with its tall parti-coloured
tower, and proceed towards our destination with the smooth plain of waters
below us and the fertile slopes above our heads, and thus we quickly gain
Minori, another of the busy little settlements that once helped to make up
the collected might of the old Republic. We meet with bare-footed
sun-embrowned peasants, in their suits of blue linen and broad shady straw
hats; lean sinewy figures, returning from a long day's work in the
fragrant orange groves by which the town is surrounded. We meet also,
alas! with the usual crowd of beggars, the halt, the maimed, and the
pseudo-blind, who are quickly left behind; nevertheless the naughty
picturesque half-naked children, loudly screaming for _soldi_, caper in
the dust alongside our carriage, until these little pests are
out-stripped, but only to give way to other imps, equally naughty and
unclothed, from Majori. Majori, nestling by the seashore amidst the
enfol