“It is no wonder that old Hannibal’s army grew effeminate after the soldiers had lived here for some months, and so was easily conquered.  Life could not have had many hardships in such a place as this.

“I declare!” he added with a laugh as he shook back the wind-blown hair from his forehead; “it is difficult to realize these days in what century one is living.  My mind has been so full of ancient history lately that I feel quite like an antique myself.”

“I know,” answered his uncle with a smile, “how life widens and lengthens as thought expands under the influence of travel through historic scenes.  One may study history from books for a lifetime and never realize it as he would could he, even for an hour, be placed upon the very spot where some important event took place.  What a fact Hannibal’s army of two thousand years ago becomes to us when we know that these very mountain tops which are before us looked down upon it,—­that its soldiers idled, ate, and slept on this very plain.”

Thus talking, almost before they knew, they came out upon the beautiful Bay of Naples.  They saw the little island of Capri, the larger Ischia crowned with its volcanic mountains, and, between it and the point of Posilipo, where once stood Virgil’s villa, the tiny island Nisida (old “Nesis"), whither Brutus fled after the assassination of Julius Caesar; where Cicero visited him, and where he bade adieu to his wife, Portia, when he set sail for Greece.

“Looking out over this same bay, these same islands, Virgil sang of flocks, of fields, and of heroes,” said Mr. Sumner, following the former line of thought, as he began to take from the racks above the valises of the party.

Arrived at their hotel, which was situated in the higher quarters of the city, they were ensconced in rooms whose balconied windows commanded magnificent views of the softly radiant city, the bay, and, close at hand, Mount Vesuvius, over which was hovering the usual cloud of smoke.

At the close of the afternoon Barbara and Bettina stood long on their own window-balcony.  The scene was fascinating—­even more so than they had dreamed.

“There is but one Naples, as there is but one Rome and one Florence,” said Barbara softly.  “Each city is grandly beautiful in its own individual way, but for none has nature done so much as for Naples.”

In silence they watched the sunset glow and the oncoming twilight, until the call for dinner sounded through the halls.

“I fear to leave it all,” said Bettina, turning reluctantly away, “lest we can never find it again.”

The next three days were crowded to the brim.  One was spent in going to the top of Vesuvius; another in the great Museum, so interesting with its remains of antique sculptures, so destitute of important paintings; the third in driving about the city, to San Martino, and around the point of Posilipo, ending with a visit to Virgil’s tomb.