entire male population are employed in fishing off the coast. The donkeys during the day are all on one errand; that of bringing up barrels of the mineral waters, hot and cold, to give you a bath "chez vous." But when pearly evening sets in, this drudgery ceases, and both "cucci" and "cucciaji" find another and a pleasanter occupation in convoying groups of tourists over the most picturesque spots of the isle. It nowhere looks like a solitude. Beside scores of scattered hamlets there are a few sizeable towns. Ischia, the capital, has a castellated fortress, rock-built amid the waves; Foria is cradled among fine bays; Lacco lies under the shelter of a promontory; Casamicciola, the main bathing-resort, covers some undulating ground, and partly fills a ravine. All parts are perforated with "stufi," and teem with mineral baths. Here are "fumaroles," "ventaroles," hot fountains, cold fountains, lava-rocks, clay-pits, and plenty of lodging-houses. Tradition avers that Ischia rose from the bottom of the sea, and the constant occurrence of marine shells in all the clay-pits favours the theory. I should refer their presence to volcanic action, which we know draws largely on the sea and its contents.

In fact the entire island, not much above five miles long, is an extinct volcanic pile, having the apex of the Epomeo, some 2500 feet high, in its centre, and its slopes diversified with mounds of lava and beds of scoriæ more or less ancient. Between these lie endless ridges and ravines, which, during a repose of more than two thousand years from eruptions, have grown bushy with the Spanish chestnut and myrtle, the aloe and the cactus. The higher

moors are covered with arbutus and broom, and every nook and crevice of the rocks teem with a scented flora. The acanthus is now in bloom, and it is a gorgeous plant. Goats' milk here is abundant and delicious, owing to the profuse supply of mint, thyme, and other aromatic herbs. Perhaps the leading features of beauty in the scenery of Ischia are its jutting capes and little marine bays and inlets. The bay of Santa Restituta equals in wild loveliness any spot I know. The rocks which occur near Foria, as you descend from the Epomeo, are worthy of Savoy. Lacco has its singular stone in the sea, resembling the doddered trunk of

some primeval tree; and you can scarce look aloft without encountering the soaring peaks of the Epomeo, white as Dover cliff.

Perhaps, as every place has a drawback, it may be as well to mention that of Pithecusa, or it might be deemed the terrestrial paradise. Venomous insects and reptiles are as plenty as blackberries. Scorpions arc a populous nation; hornets, a countless tribe; of vipers there is a decent sprinkling: mosquitoes, of course. Despite the heat of the weather I laughed the other day till I almost dropped off my chair at the nocturnal adventures of a gentleman and lady who passed a night on the island in lodgings, as they thought very nice ones. Scorpions love lamplight, or the smell of oil, I don't know which, perhaps both: on retiring to rest, the above-named couple became aware of sundry black things about an inch and a half long with pincers in front and a long tail behind skirmishing about the floor and walls of their dormitory. It was no use thinking to sleep amidst such visitors; and as to killing those that were visible and then putting out the light, that would little avail, for others might come when it was dark and bite them.

They wisely determined to pass the night like wakeful naturalists; so the lady made herself as comfortable as she could under the circumstances,