Chapter 1. From Naples
_ CHAPTER I. FROM NAPLES
This is the third day of sirocco, heavy-clouded, sunless. All the colour has gone out of Naples； the streets are dusty and stifling. I long for the mountains and the sea.
To-morrow I shall leave by the Messina boat, which calls at Paola. It is now more than a twelvemonth since I began to think of Paola, and an image of the place has grown in my mind. I picture a little _marina_； a yellowish little town just above； and behind, rising grandly, the long range of mountains which guard the shore of Calabria. Paola has no special interest that I know of, but it is the nearest point on the coast to Cosenza, which has interest in abundance； by landing here I make a modestly adventurous beginning of my ramble in the South. At Paola foreigners are rare； one may count upon new impressions, and the journey over the hills will be delightful.
Were I to lend ear to the people with whom I am staying, here in the Chiatamone, I should either ab

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