We went once to a flower‐show held in the Villa Reale, the beautiful public promenade which runs by the sea‐shore and the Chiaia. I believe it was the first of the kind which had been attempted, and as such was worthy of all praise. But, apart from that consideration, it was inferior to most of the numerous flower‐shows held in the rural districts of England. We often drove up and down the Chiaia, which is the name of the fashionable street of Naples, and along which there is a tan road for the sake of horsemen, who ride backwards and forwards at a furious rate. It is neither very long nor very broad; but the gentlemen who frequent it are evidently greatly impressed with their manly bearing and distinguished horsemanship. For my own part, I prefer a Neapolitan on the driving‐box to one in the saddle. They are excellent coachmen and but indifferent horsemen, as all men must be who are deficient in phlegm and in external calm. The horse is a dignified animal, and demands corresponding dignity in his rider. We used often to stop at the _caffe_ in the Via Reale, and refresh ourselves with “granite”—that is, a glass of snow sweetened, and with the juice of fresh lemons squeezed into it. As a rule, I cannot say that the shops in Naples are particularly good, and certainly they are very dear. The same may be said of provisions. And as the taxes are every year on the increase, this misfortune is not likely to be remedied. I frequently used to walk through the generally narrow and always crowded streets of Naples accompanied by Frank, and as often Emidio, who had arranged some point of meeting with my brother, would come down from the heights of Capo di Monte, where his lovely villa stood, and join us in our saunter through the busy city. I have seen him stop where a piece of rope was hung near a tobacconist’s shop‐door, or at the corner of the street, and light his cigar from the smouldering end which had been set fire to for that purpose. I have never seen a burning rope in the streets in England or in France for the accommodation of smokers. We visited most of the churches, but they were as nothing to me after the churches in Rome. The flower‐boys soon got to know us as we walked and drove about, and the most lovely roses and bunches of orange‐blossoms would be pressed upon us for a few pence. The boys would sometimes cling to the carriage‐door with one hand, while the horses were going fast, imploring us to buy the bouquets they held in the other, till I used to think they must fall and be run over. But they are so lithe and supple, and they seemed to bound about so much as if they were made of india‐ rubber, that at last I got hardened, and would stand to my bargain half‐ way down a street without any apprehension for the safety of my dark‐eyed, jabbering flower‐boys. They generally addressed us in a jargon of Italian, French, and English, and as generally sold their flowers for half the price first named.