The streets of Naples at night are like our own, or rather like one or two in America, when there is a bright moon, and there has been a warm day. The absence of side-walks here, and the greater throngs, make the difference. But I know no place that offers a scene like this towards the setting of the sun. Imagine the effect in a street, or perhaps on the side of a hill, where the houses are six or seven stories in height, the windows all opening on hinges, and having balconies, and these balconies filled with people enjoying the cool air. I have literally seen streets with scarcely a balcony unoccupied. Fancy also the pleasure of sitting in such a spot, at such an hour, and overlooking a town like Naples, and such a bay! Most of the houses that face in the right direction, and which stand on the hill-sides, possess this advantage. The common public vehicle for single passengers is a sort of sulky, which is driven by the passenger, the keeper standing behind him and using the whip. It goes with great velocity; and what struck me as daring in streets so crowded and with chance drivers, the horses have no bits, being entirely controlled by a noseband, like a halter, to which the reins are attached. The population of Naples is generally short, and both sexes, as a rule, incline early to obesity. This applies particularly to the class of the _bourgeoisie_. But I have never seen so fine a display of muscle any where else, as among the labourers of this place. The habit of ascending and descending the precipices of the coast, gives to all the porters on the bay an extraordinary development of the muscles of the legs. Those of Genoa have a reputation in this respect; but I think them, though of larger proportions in general, inferior to those of Naples, or rather to those of the Bay of Naples. FOOTNOTES: [9] “A little bit of heaven fallen upon the earth;” the common Neapolitan saying. [10] Soon after the return of the writer to this country, he was shown a view of the Bay of Naples, painted by Mr. Chapman, which was taken from a spot near the house he had inhabited most of the time he dwelt on its glorious shores. On being asked if it was faithful, he answered, “Perfectly so, _except that the artist has not done justice to the hue of the water, which is not sufficiently blue_.” He was then told, that the ordinary criticism was to complain of the element _as being too blue for nature_. The same objection is often made to the skies of Italian and Grecian landscapes, and to the other tints, as exaggerated. All this is a consequence of judging of Nature by a rule that is applicable only to her laws under particular circumstances. These hues certainly vary, but the writer has often seen the lakes of Switzerland and the bay of Naples almost as dark as ultra-marine itself. LETTER XIV.