After blowing another hurricane all night there is this morning a decided improvement in the weather. The wind has gone down nearly as suddenly as it rose, though the sea is still running very high. Some of the old wooden houses towards the outskirts of the town, where they were more exposed to the violence of the storm, have suffered considerable damage, and two have literally been blown down. Happily, the inhabitants were able to escape in time, and no lives have been lost. As I was anxious to make some sketches before being prevented by our own departure, or by some of the prettiest houses tumbling into ruins, we went early on shore on a drawing expedition; but amongst so many picturesque spots, it was quite an embarras de richesses to know where to begin. At last I set to work upon a narrow street with dark-brown houses, whose overhanging eaves almost touched their opposite neighbours. How I longed to have the skill of a really good artist, especially to draw one low projecting window which the leafy branches of a vine had formed into a little arch. A stray sunbeam was gleaming brightly on two fair young faces as they peeped shyly at the strangers through the framework of the tender green leaves. It was difficult to decide which shone brightest in the dark street, the bright eyes or the bright sunshine. With this charming exception the place had seemed deserted when the sketch began, but after a few strokes had been made sundry little groups appeared at the doors, and emboldened by our pretending to take no notice, they gradually approached. Some of the older women ventured at last to look over my shoulder to see what I was about, and, when house after house appeared on the paper, their delight could no longer be controlled, and they eagerly called the owners to see the wonderful production. Having accomplished the houses as well as I could, I wanted some figures to complete the little picture, and tried to sketch in as rapidly as possible a group of pretty girls who stood near. But this was going too far, and was too great a tax on their courage. They fled instantly; for so great is their dread of the evil eye that they, no doubt, felt persuaded that, were they to allow their likeness to be taken by a stranger, it would entail certain misery upon them. In southern countries one must carefully avoid noticing young people too much, and must especially beware of praising little children. A mother would think it most cruel kindness, as it would be directly casting the jettatura upon her child. In many parts of Calabria (the stronghold of this superstition) it does not do for a friend, if a foreigner, to say a word even in favour of that generally-praised member of the family, the baby. Like the women of a Turkish harem, the children of a Christian household are too sacred to be mentioned.