Nothing can be more lovely than the neighborhood of Sorrento, though a great deal is unapproachable, except on horseback, donkeys, or mules; and much more is equally so for all but very vigorous pedestrians. We went more than once to the small, picturesque town of Massa, at the extreme point of the Peninsula. We visited Il Deserto, the name given to a Franciscan monastery situated on the top of a somewhat barren hill, and which commands a magnificent view. We found only a few lay brothers at home, and about half a dozen orphan boys, who were there by way of learning the art of agriculture. The land around the monastery was mostly barren, and to the left was covered with brushwood. No agriculture was there, at any rate. There was a large garden enclosed within walls; and as the small agricultural were in it, I hoped to see some evidence of their labors. I am bound, however, to speak the truth, much as it tells against the expectations of Sorrento with regard to the future tillers of the soil, as also, which is worse, against the efficiency of the Franciscan instructors in this particular case. The garden was quite full of weeds. I scarcely saw a vegetable or plant of any kind likely to prove edible to anybody except our donkeys; but for them there was hope, as thistles abounded. The juvenile agriculturists were by no means usefully engaged, but were listlessly roving about, doing nothing in particular. They looked bored; and I could not wonder at it. Certainly, the orphans learned no agriculture, and I doubt if either the fathers or lay brothers can teach it. It is to be hoped that at least they learn something else. One bright morning we resolved on a trip to Capri. We chartered a boat, a man, and two boys, the party consisting of Ida and Elizabeth Vernon, Mary, and me. The wind was not altogether in our favor, and our three sailors had hard work to row us. Nothing can well be more beautiful than the line of coast, with picturesque ruins, deep sea‐caves, varied rocks, and green slopes down to the water’s edge. We had resolved to spend one night at Capri, and intended visiting the Blue Grotto the next day. But the wind was blowing fresh, and it seemed but too probable that, if we did not accomplish our visit at once, we might miss it altogether. Our boatmen made no objection to this addition to our original bargain, and we soon found ourselves rowing up to an entrance into the rock that did not present a different appearance to many other such small, slit‐like fissures and holes, some of which had been pointed out to us as the sirens’ caves. We found two boats moored to the rock; one was empty, and in the other was a lad.