shore, where it extends in a curve of about three and a half miles; its breadth is very unequal at the west end it is so much contracted between the hills of Vomero and Belvedere and the sea as only to allow of one or two parallel streets; there is more open space toward the centre, where it extends northward as far as the hills of Capo di Monte and Capo di Chino, between which beautiful eminences and the sea stands the most populous part of the town, including the old city, whose ditches and walls are still to be traced in many places. Its greatest breadth from south to north, or from the seashore to the Capo di Monte, is little short of two miles. The ground it occupies is of course very uneven, which is the cause of some internal inconvenience and of great external beauty. About four hundred thousand souls inhabit the space described so that Naples, as to population, must be reckoned among the great capitals of Europe.

The Strada Toledo, which traverses the city for three quarters of a mile, is the principal street in Naples, and at least one of the most populous, busy, and noisy streets in the world. Nothing can be more striking than the contrast between a street of Constantinople and this or almost any other city of Naples. There the pedestrians are few and taciturn, and there are no equipages; here abound wheeled carriages of every description, from the humble hack corricolo with its single little horse, to the gay carriage of the noble with its pair or double pair of proud steeds; and the noise made by the rattling wheels of these thronging vehicles is equalled by the vociferousness of the crowding foot-passengers, and by the men, women, and children, that ply their business by the sides of the streets.

Though the Neapolitan taste in architecture is generally far from good, there are some fine and imposing palaces on the Toledo, where indeed all the houses are lofty; and as, in despite of a faulty government, the general civilization of Europe has of late years crept into that extremity of it, many of the nuisances complained of in former times have been gradually disappearing, and the Strada Toledo and some other parts of the town assuming an aspect of general decency and comfort. Accord ing to the accounts of those who have known it during all that interval, the progress of Naples has been very considerable since 1815. If Toledo could be made a little wider, it might become indeed a splendid street. As it is, however, it is as wide as the generality of the streets on the continent; but in the lower or old part of Naples the narrowness of the streets is such as to be ridiculous and almost incredible. There is an extensive quarter called "Napoli senza Sole," or Naples without Sun, and where in reality, from the height and closeness of the lines of the buildings, that luminary never shines. In some of those streets a man may stand in the middle, and, by stretching out his arms, touch the houses on either side of him. Here inhabit the poorer and the genuine Neapolitans of the old school, unchanged as yet by the civilization of Europe, and probably in all things much the same as when the fisherman Masaniello, with the populace of these quarters, discomfited and humbled the Spanish viceroy.

The number of churches in the whole city is immense, amounting to several hundreds. There is more than one street entirely occupied by convents. But of these clumsy monastic edifices, which were made to cumber the soil chiefly during the misrule of the superstitious Spaniards, many have long been converted into inns, manufactories, colleges, and schools, and the orders or societies to which they belonged have been suppressed.

One of the most striking features of Naples is the predominance everywhere of volcanic matter. The three hills upon which the city chiefly stands (to say nothing of Vesuvius on one side of it, and the lake of Agnano, the Astruni, and the Solfaterra, on the other, which are so many extinct volcanoes) are themselves three exhausted and worn-down craters: the ground in many places is hollow; sources of water impregnated with sulphur gush out in the town; every street is paved all over with broad flags of dark lava cut and brought from Mount Vesuvius; the subterranean road through the grotto of Posilippo, and nearly every other road where it enters the capital, is paved with the same material-one, the road of Portici, for a distance of five or six miles. In the construction of the houses, lava and volcanic debris are worked up with tufa. Blocks of lava meet you everywhere. They are thrown into the sea to form piers and jettees, and the finer sorts furnish materials to carvers and other artisans, who cut them into snuff-boxes, paper-pressers, chessmen, and chimneypiece ornaments.

The most prominent objects in the landscape as seen from the sea, are the Castello

Nuovo and the castle of St. Elmo. The Castello Nuovo was built by Charles I., commonly called Charles of Anjou, in 1266, immediately after he had defeated the good king Manfred and conquered the Neapolitan kingdom. It was erected after a French model, and filled by a garrison of French and Angevins, who sorely oppressed the people. It was then styled the New Castle, to distinguish it from an old castle, near the Capuan gate, built by the Suabian dynasty of Naples after a German model. Being placed close on the seashore, at the head of the great mole, it was intended to defend the port of Naples, and to serve as a sure point at which to receive succors from France in time of need. During the reign of the Angevin princes it frequently served as a royal palace; and within its walls some of the most tragical events in the lives of the queens Joanna I. and Joanna II. took place. Under the first of these two princesses, Petrarch was a frequent visiter at the Castello Nuovo. About the year 1430, Alfonso of Aragon greatly enlarged the castle, and brought it nearly to the form and condition in which it is now seen. The only parts of the works of the Angevins that remain are a strong round tower near the sea, called La Torre di San Vincenzo, the massy basements of some walls, some curious dungeons, and certain dark passages underground, which now lead nowhere, but that seem once to have opened on the seashore. According to popular tradition, a crocodile once crept in by one of these passages and lived there a long time, feeding on soldiers; and they even show the identical "alligator stuffed," which is, or at least was a few years ago, hung over the arch of one of the interior gates of the castle. But, whether alive or dead, the animal must have been conveyed there by human means, as we need not inform our readers that crocodiles are not found in Europe, and that it is not in the habits of those creatures to put to sea, or cross the Mediterranean from Egypt or the Moorish coast. According to the soldiers, all the old parts of the fortress are dreadfully infested with spirits and goblins; and if deeds of blood could give existence to such unreal essences, doubtlessly they are to be found in this ancient stronghold of tyranny. But the Neapolitans have no notion of ghosts, or "spectres all in white"-their superstitions only recognise spirits and goblins; and their monaciello, their head-hobgoblin, is a strange creation, being rather farcical than "horrible and awful." The notion is among the singular aberrations of the human mind; and it is interesting to see how superstitions that are varied by climate catch and retain the salient points of national character. The ghastly spirit of the cloudy misty north is little more than a buffoon, a spiritual Policinello, under the gay sky of Naples.

In 1484, Ferdinand I., who enlarged the city and extended its walls and fortifications, strengthened the Castello Nuovo; and in the early part of the sixteenth century, the last works of any consequence were added to it by the emperor Charles V., who included Naples and Sicily in his vast dominions. Shortly after, the Spanish viceroys built a palace-the present Palazzo Reale-close to the castle, to enjoy its protection in case of popular tumults, which were very often excited by their bigotry and oppression. Shut up within these gloomy walls, with not an inch of ground to stand upon beyond the lines of this and other fortresses, more than one Spanish don has trembled before the irresistible might of a whole people moved by one determined feeling and object. A memorable instance of this occurred in 1547, when the viceroy of the bigoted Philip II. attempted to establish the inquisition, to which detestable tribunal the Neapolitans never would submit, and never have submitted. Another instance was at the revolt of Masaniello, the wonderful fisherman of Amalfi, in 1647, when the people of Naples rose to a man against their haughty oppressors, and after five days' fighting, expelled them from the streets of the city.

Since the modern improvements in the art of war, the only use of the Castello Nuovo, the Castello dell' Uovo, the Carmine, and all the forts in Naples, with the exception of the castle of St. Elmo, on the hill behind the city, is to check the people, and to serve as barracks for troops. Commanded on all sides, and open to a bombardment by sea, they are contemptible as a means of resisting a foreign enemy. At the sanguinary counter-revolution of 1799, the Castello Nuovo, as well as St. Elmo, served as a stateprison for the patriots or republicans; and many of the noblest and best of the land-fair women and youths, with men of mature age, and men at the extreme period of old age-were dragged from its dungeons to the scaffold.

These and other recollections may give a melancholy interest to the castle, which in itself is a stark, formal, straight-lined, unpicturesque edifice. The ivy and the