came, unconscious that the deadliest enemy mortal ever had was waiting to accost him. He was within three paces of me before he raised his eyes, and then he started back in momentary alarm.— Who are you?' he exclaimed. Strangers are not permitted to enter this domain in daylight. What brings you here now?'-To speak with Mr. Hunsgate, I answered. Whatever your business may be, convey it through my steward. Off! that avenue leads to the parkgate. Beware how you make a second trespass.'-' No second will be necessary,' I said, and as I passed him, as if to take the avenue he had indicated with his finger as that which would lead me to the gate of the domain, I grasped his hands with mine. This sudden and unexpected assault alarmed, as much as it astonished, the lord of the Priory; and he made a vain effort to shake me off. I know that mine is no ordinary strength; and, excited as I was, I felt I could have grappled safely with a giant. For one who looks a man of thews and sinews' I never met so feeble an opponent. What would you have? my money is yours! Use no unnecessary violence.'- May curses light upon your ill-gained dross!" --and I wrung his left arm round as easily as I would have done that of a schoolboy, and, from wrist to finger, deep-gaping, and discoloured, by heaven! there was the scar the dying criminal had so accurately described !'

"Good God!' I exclaimed, 'you did him no mischief, I trust ?' "None. That would not jump with my present purpose. I flung the murderer's hand away,—hurried down the avenue, — and left him rooted to the spot, like some living thing suddenly converted into stone by the touch of an enchanter. And now, my dear friend, fare thee well. I go, as that great man, Napoleon, used to say, "to fulfil my destinies." Within three months expect me back, or when that period passes, conclude that I am no more. And when I return-if return I shall,—then let the murderer tremble! God bless you! time presses-once more farewell.'

"He said, wrung my hand with a pressure, that made my fingers tingle for an hour,-took his departure,—and I never saw or heard aught of him again!"

"It is a marvellous and a mysterious story," muttered the young Irishman, in an under voice."

And, thank God! it's finished," added Doctor Faunce, "for here comes another call. Per orbem opiferque dicor.' The people of Holmesdale must fancy that the mantle of Apollo had dropped upon my shoulders, or they would not so eternally put me in requisition as they do. Well, whose tooth aches now?"

Leaving the black-eyed assistant to mention to the descendant of Galen what the particular duty was which summoned him from the sanctum he loved so much, Brian took his leave, with a strong invitation on the Doctor's part to repeat his visit whenever he felt inclined to hear further and most interesting extracts from his diary, and indulge in a philosophic symposium.

But it was dcreed that Brian, for a time, was not to profit by Faunce's revelations. The hand of Fate was urging on the crisis of his fortunes; and he who would have closed the history of a young career in the same obscurity that marked its opening, became the unconscious agent in undoing the tangled web in which the destinies of the orphan were involved.

333

THE CORSO OF NAPLES.

BY A RESIDent.

THIS evening the Corso was, if possible, more crowded and brilliant than usual. The oftener one sees it the more amusing it becomes: now especially that I am beginning to know every one by sight and by name. Decidedly it is the most animated and showy spectacle of every-day life that any capital in this prosaic and levelling nineteenth century can display.

Grand and imposing as are the marble palaces of Milan, and the handsome equipages of its noblesse, the Corso of Naples excels even that which itself surpasses all others. Not that the impoverished Neapolitans can vie with the lusso of the proud and wealthy Milanese. But if the carriages are less elegant, and the horses less pur sang,-en révanche the locale in that, as in everything, is for them; and the locale in such matters is "half the battle."

Therefore it is that the pre-eminence to which the English lay claim for their own fashionable drive in Hyde Park is as absurd as it is unfounded.

But the Corso of Naples is only seen to advantage in the height of summer. From about the middle of June till the middle of September is its season par excellence. Both before and after those epochs every one is in Villeggiatura; the nobility generally at Portici; so that a poor imitation of the Corso is transferred there in October. And in the winter, as every one dines at a different time, and drives at any hour from two to six, the innovators and lioni having adopted English lateness with other bad habits, the Corso is such a desultory, straggling affair as scarcely to deserve the name.

Thus no one can form an idea of it who does not see it during one of the three hot summer months, when, as there are no foreigners remaining to comment on the barbarism, the most dashing aspirants to the honours of "La jeune France," are satisfied to return to the primitive and convenient habits of their forefathers; — to dine at two or three; take their refreshing siesta afterwards, and drive out from seven till nine.

Few and rare therefore are the strangers who ever behold the Neapolitan Corso in its glory; as its reign lasts only during the four proscribed months, when all.novices, more especially the English, fly the city as if it were plague-smitten.

And yet it is in summer that Naples should be seen to be appreciated; in summer that, beautiful as it is at all times, it is incomparably more beautiful than at any other period of the year.

It is in summer too, that the genius of the country, and the people, shine forth in the thousand little traits and scenes of their al fresco life; more picturesque, more lively, than that of any other

nation.

But there are travellers who see nothing but old bricks and paving-stones, in the stupendous remains of the "Terme di Caracalla," or the relics of the Via Appia. I have often met with such. I remember one young gentleman declaring the Libanus to have been "the greatest take in he had ever experienced;"-he had actually

been reduced for fifteen days to dine upon nothing but fowl! And of such, O tempora, O mores, are two thirds at least of English travellers composed.

Let not any of this genus try a summer excursion to Naples. The thousand pleasures which more than compensated us for the oppressive heat of the day, would be caviare to them. They would discern no beauty in the bright sun-rise, and the gorgeous tramonto. The myriads of barks, darting over the glittering bay, the translucent splendour of the moonlit nights for them would have no charm. Their eyes were not made to discover any greater beauty than they can view between Hyde Park and St. James's; nor their ears to receive any more harmonious tones than those of the parish children, in their parish church.

I was roused from my waking siesta by the chaunting of priests and the tinkling of bells on the Chiaja. I hastened to the window. It was a procession, as I already knew by the sounds, and I was just in time to see the difficult operation performed, of turning the corner of a street with a gigantic standard, displaying the Assumption of the Virgin, and who, notwithstanding the reputed l'egèreté of the fair sex, seemed irresistibly top heavy.

No restive horse was ever more unmanageable. In vain the standard-bearer clasped his pole tighter and tighter, with all the energy of despair, and kept gazing upwards at his merciless mistress, as if imploring "pace e misericordia;" in vain the four frati who held the long string attached to each of the corners, tried to re-establish their equilibrium; whichever way they tugged, on that side directly the Madonna seemed determined to capsize. The whole procession was brought to a dead stop, while every one turned to see how the contest would terminate.

I pitied the frati du fond de l'âme; theirs was indeed an unfortunate predicament; they could neither move on nor stand still. For though the Madonna was decidedly opposed to any attempt at progression, she seemed to have a Neapolitan's aversion for quiet of any sort. I began to think the case was hopeless, when suddenly the lady changed her mind, and the persecuted frati seized the moment to advance. But though no new misfortune occurred to impede their march, it was so slow that I had full leisure to examine the procession in all its details, ere it passed before the balcony.

The cross-bearer came first, flanked by a couple of large, gilt, ornamental lanterns; borne by two of the white-robed confraternità, whose companions followed two and two, their pointed hoods flung back, and their heads bare beneath the burning rays of the sun; a roasting which nothing but a Neapolitan cranium could withstand. A statue of Sant Ambrogio, large as life, followed next, borne on poles, resting on the shoulders of four men; the drapery, face, and all painted à la nature. Then came a long line of penitents, with their pointed hoods, and the holes cut for their eyes, making them look quite as terrific and mysterious as when I first saw them. A large crucifix now made its appearance, with a blue silk sash fringed with silver, fastened round the waist of the image. Again came a saint, and another and another; tottering along on their poles, just like decrepid old men. The effect was so much to the life that it was perfectly absurd.

At every second or third house the procession was arrested to receive the offerings of the inhabitants, who presented their contributions of wax-lights and bouquets of fresh flowers to lay at the feet of the Madonna, who brought up the rear in propria persona at the end of a long line of frati. Her costume, in the extreme of the rococo fashion, was well worthy of description. A dress of the richest sky-blue brocade, open in front on a jupe de dessous of white satin, covered with the most massive gold embroidery, which, though a little dimmed by exposure to the sun and air, looked very dashing a la distance; while the circular ampleur of the skirt put crinolines and canne to the blush, and combined with the tapering length of the corsage and jewelled stomacher, were enough to drive all the élégantes of Florence and Naples into despair. A crown on her head completed her toilette, and gave her very much the air of Queen Elizabeth, but for the luxuriant flaxen wig, whose curling locks flowed down to her heels, and the exquisitely embroidered pocket-handkerchief, edged with a splendid valenciennes, which she held in her hand; the expiatory offering no doubt of some lionne who had been faithless to to her cavaliere.

By the time the Madonna passed beneath the windows, such was the profusion of flowers at her feet that they had risen almost to a pyramid, and their fragrance embalmed the air; while the candles, some of them richly ornamented, and all decked with different coloured ribands, were piled up in baskets, and carried after her by priests. Two or three little angels in white tunics, with chaplets of roses and gauze wings, concluded the pageant.

It was past six,-too late to resume my interrupted siesta; so after a hasty toilette, (N. B. half-past six is the usual time for dressing in an Italian summer, as no one dreams of encumbering himself with any superfluities of costume before that hour), I took my station at the window a little before seven.

It was earlier than usual, and as yet only two or three carriages ventured to brave the rays of the sun, which still glared fiercely on the white pavement, and the clouds of dust, scattered right and left by the carts that were watering the Chiaja.

The heat however was on the wane; and the atmosphere was already sensibly cooler, when one of the royal carriages with four horses and an outrider dashed past the windows; it was the Regina Madre and her husband, as usual the first of the beau monde on the drive. Decidedly her majesty has a very good taste, for Monsieur del Balzo was one of the handsomest, and most à la mode, of the Neapolitan Lioni, and is still a very distingué, noble-looking man; though I am told, that within these last four or five years, he is so much altered for the worse as to be scarcely recognizable. Whether he made a good exchange, in giving up the pleasant freedom of an officer of Cavalleria leggiera, the favourite of all the ladies for his beaux yeux, and the envy of his comrades for his hundred crowns a month to spend à volonté, (no bagatelle in Naples) for the satisfaction of marrying a queen,-a poor compensation in these march-of-intellect days-and that queen too jealous, and a Spaniard,-is a question I leave to the discussion of those who are interested in it; one thing only is certain, that the premature grey hairs which are beginning to cast their shade over

M. del B's jet black chevelure, would appear to justify the Neapolitan proverb, which says, "Vecchiaja s'attacca."

Al solito the Queen Dowager was the precursor of a concourse of the élite, who now began to pour down in rapid succession, from the Strada di Chiaja, the Chiata mone the Pizzo Falcone, &c. In less than a quarter of an hour the Chiaja, but a few minutes before so deserted, was all gaiety and animation. Two files of carriages already lined it, and a third was rapidly forming.

One after another the different stars of the fashionable world, passed beneath my eyes. The Marchesa Statella with her distinguéelooking daughter; Prince Policastro, his handsome-looking son, and the pretty sparkling looking principessine, smiling and talking, and saluting all their friends, and looking all brilliancy and anima tion: while as if expressly to be contrasted with their vivacity, immediately after their carriage followed that of the Princess Torlonia, who as she reclined on the cushions of as handsome and faultless "a turn out," as the most supercilious of London "exquisites" would select, appeared as languid and weary, as they were gay. Yet then, as always, with her pensive and magnificent eyes, her marble brow, on which her coal-black hair was parted in classic bands, her colourless cheek, and the exquisitely Grecian contour of her face, looking incomparably more beautiful, more poetic, than every one else.

The next dashing equipage that attracted my attention, was that of the Princess St. Antimo; as conspicuous on account of the tall chasseur who stood behind it, as for the splendid costume of the balia who sat within; her crimson satin skirt, and the green jacket, stiff and glittering with the richest gold embroidery, presenting as great a contrast to the simple dress of her mistress, as her handsome but strongly marked countenance to the small features, fair hair, and blue eyes of the English belle.

The Prince was not with her to night. He is "un homme d'un certain age," but his family ranks with the noblest and the most ancient of Sicily; and his fortune is said to exceed that of any other nobleman in Naples, since the disastrous epoch, when the ever memorable "Santa Fede," and the French reduced the majority of the Neapolitan noblesse to the brink of ruin. It is said that his rent roll is about fourteen thousand a year, and that on that he lives “en prince," keeps up an almost royal establishment, opens his salons every Friday evening to all the haule volée, foreign and Neapolitan, and fills his magnificent palaces with the works of the most distinguished or promising Sicilian and Neapolitan artists; to whom he continually gives orders on the largest scale, and who all look up to him as their most liberal and generous patron. It is a pity some of our earls and marquises do not come and learn what may be done where taste and liberality are united on an income they would despise.

Another royal carriage drove down the centre. This time it was the Prince and Princess of Salerno, and their daughter, the Princess Maria Carolina, talking and laughing with her father as usual; the white plume of her paille de riz bonnet waving in the air, as she returned all the salutations from the passing carriages, with the little short familiar nod peculiar to every branch of the royal family of Naples.