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full to-night. No matter that the snow and ice lie thick
upon the summit of Vesuvius, or that we have been on
foot all day at Pompeii, or that croakers maintain that
strangers should not be on the mountain by night, in
such an unusual season. Let us take advantage of the fine
weather; make the best of our way to Resina, the little
village at the foot of the mountain; prepare ourselves, as
well as we can, on so short a notice, at the Guide's house;
ascend at once, and have sunset halfway up, moonlight
at the top, and midnight to come down in!

At four o'clock in the afternoon, there is a terrible
uproar in the little stable-yard of Signior Salvatore the
recognised head-guide with the gold band round his cap;
and thirty under-guides who are all scuffling and screaming
at once, are preparing half a dozen saddled ponies, three
litters, and some stout staves, for the journey. Everyone
of the thirty, quarrels with the other twenty-nine, and
frightens the six ponies; and as much of the village as can
possibly squeeze itself into the little stableyard, participates
in the tumult, and gets trodden on by the cattle.

After much violent skirmishing, and more noise than
would suffice for the storming of Naples, the procession
starts. The head guide, who is liberallv paid for all the
attendants, rides a little in advance of the party; the other
thirty guides proceed on foot. Eight go forward with the
litters that are to be used by and by; and the remaining
two-and-twenty beg.

We ascend, gradually, by stony lanes like rough
broad llights of stairs, for some time. At length, we leave

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