The Last Man

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  I VISITED Naples in the year 1818. On the 8th of December of that year, my companion and I crossed the Bay, to visit the antiquities which are scattered on the shores of Baiae. The translucent and shining waters of the calm sea covered fragments of old Ro­man villas, which were interlaced by sea-weed, and received diamond tints from the chequering of the sun-beams the blue and pellucid element was such as Galatea might have skimmed in her car of mother of pearl or Cleopatra, more fitly than the Nile, have chosen as the path of her magic ship. Though it was winter, the atmosphere seemed more appropriate to early spring and its genial warmth contributed to ins­pire those sensations of placid delight, which are the portion of every traveller, as he lingers, loath to quit the tranquil bays and radiant promontories of Baiae.