Some years ago, there resided in the neighbourhood of Naples a foreigner, whose health compelled him to seek a southern climate. His tastes and occupations were literary, and his habits quiet; but whether he had some secret enemy who had denounced him, or whether the Government were afraid of him, because he read and wrote, I know not; but one fine morning the little town was much agitated by the appearance of a Commissary of Police and his attendant “Sbirri.” Many were the conjectures--as is always the case under such circumstances--as to what could be the object of this visitation. No one took it to himself; but as in a church each good Christian lolls in his corner and admires the applicability of the sermon to his neighbour in the next pew; so every little townsman knew precisely the person who merited the inspection of the Police. Don Roberto was sure that the visit was meant for his mortal enemy, Don Giuseppe; whereas the master of the favourite “Cantino” was equally sure that it must be for his rival who sold such acid wine, and permitted scenes in his shop enough to awaken the anger of the Saints. He always thought he was a Carbonaro! The Commissary, on his arrival, sent for the Syndic. “Pray, Signor Syndic,” he said, “is there a foreigner residing here, called Don Ferdinand?” (every one is Don, in Naples.) “Yes!” was the reply. “And pray, Sir, what is the object of his residence here?” “I understand, Signor Commissario, that he is in search of health and amusement.” “Ah! very good: health and amusement. And what may be his occupations?” “They do say, Sir, that he is engaged much in reading and writing.” “Reading and writing! Yet in search of health and amusement,” said the official, opening his eyes. “That’s a curious combination; but tell me, has Don Ferdinand any intercourse with the inhabitants? does he ever invite any of them to dinner?” “I must confess,” said the Syndic, “that he does.” “Then it is true, that Don Ferdinand proposes toasts after dinner?” “Well,” replied the Syndic, as if such an admission would be fraught with danger. “I cannot deny it--he _does_ propose toasts.” “What are they?” asked the great official, sharply. “His usual practice is, first, to propose the health of our Sovereign Lord the King, and then the health of _his_ Sovereign Lady, the Queen.” Not without disappointment at having made out nothing serious against Don Ferdinand, our Commissary dismissed the Syndic, merely observing that he had taken note of all his answers, and should draw up his report therefrom, and present it to the Minister of Police.