little bay, all close together on the seaside, and none having any claim at present either on the artist or the poet. We quit the seaside at this spot, and reach the summit of the hill above, where there is more torch-work and more disappointment for those that go a Sybil-seeking with the sixth book of Virgil for a guide. Those who like it may also grope their way through _Nero's prisons_, and descend into the _Piscina Mirabilis_, that vast pilastered cellar like an underground dissenting chapel. They say the Roman fleet was supplied with water from this huge tank; but if this had been the intention of its construction, why obstruct it with more pillars or supports of square masonry than the roof absolutely required, without which incumbrances a reservoir of half its size would have held more water,--and for water it was evidently meant? Ascending the hill we see a man or two working away at a newly-discovered _tomb_, from which he told us he had removed several skulls in perfect preservation, even to the teeth of both jaws, together with some small sepulchral lamps and old copper coins. We dine on the summit of a low hill, immediately opposite a cape better known to fame than the Cape of Good Hope--the promontory of _Misenum_, with _Procida_ and _Ischia_ on our right, and _Nisida_ with its white lazaretto, and _Puteoli_ (Pozzuoli,) where St Paul landed, on our left. We took to _plant_ collecting after dinner, and were glad to learn that we should find at Puzzuoli a celebrated botanist of the locality, who could declare to us the _unknown_ of all we should collect. On our return, therefore, the man of science was fetched to look at our wild nose-gay and at us. We show him a specimen; he calls it by some outlandish name; we tell him what we want is its _Latin_ one. It _is_ Latin, he says, which he is actually speaking! _We_ thought _not_. A crowd of fishermen and rustics are fast collecting around us; we try him with another one of the grasses. "_Questo e asparago_," cries a bumpkin, unasked, from behind. "_Che asparagi?_" says _il mio Maestro_, "_e Pimpinella._" We show him a _Cytisus_, and he calls it a _Campanula._ Seeing that so great a difference exists between our friend and Linnaeus, we ask no further questions. Tench and eels abound in _Avernus_, and coot and teal also blunder here occasionally, as if to contradict Virgil and confute etymology--for Avernus is [Greek: aornos] (birdless,) and Latinised as every one knows. However, few birds are to be found here. The _Lucrine_ is now a mere salt-water pond of small extent, affording the little sea fish, in rough weather, a sort of playground. No Lucrine oysters now, though these dainties are of excellent quality at Naples, and might have satisfied _Montanus_ himself. As to the _Mare Mortuum_, it is another rank, unwholesome, unpicturesque pond. We walked all round it, and have a right to say so; and, if we had done so _twice_ after sunset, might perchance have had to say _more_.