is short and inglorious. During the minority of the young king, the government was directed by that wise minister of Charles III., Bernard Tanucci; but, though he ruled well over the country, he left one duty unperformed, the proper training of his royal ward. When this young Ferdinand I. reached the age of seventeen, a year younger than his great father was at the period of his crowning at Palermo, -he completed his minority, and the following year married an Austrian archduchess. This archduchess, Maria Carolina, was the unworthy daughter of Maria Theresa, the unwomanly sister of Maria Antoinette, the fit friend of the infamous Lady Hamilton, and the bad queen of a weak husband. Ferdinand allowed her to assume the control, for she had the same desire for rule which characterized her mother, but she lacked Maria Theresa's ability. Her first exercise of power was the dismissing of Tanucci ; and the result of her ill management was not only injurious to the kingdom, but to her own interests, for, when the terrific political European earthquake of 1789 burst out, Naples was in a weak and unprotected state. Nature had played truant then; there was no "Don Carlos,” no Vanucci, to hold the government firm when the revolutionary tide swept over the peninsula; and the feeble king, with his unwise queen, had to fly from Naples for their lives. Then followed the Parthenopian republic, established by the French General Championnet, which failed, for Naples is essentially a king-loving place. After its downfall, Ferdinand returned for a little while, but was soon driven out again, to make room for Napoleon's brother Joseph. When Joseph was transferred to Spain, Murat succeeded him; then came Napoleon's downfall, and with him his little family of sovereigns. At the Treaty of Vienna, in 1816, Ferdinand recovered his throne. To him succeeded his son, Francis I., who reigned only five years; then Ferdinand II. ascended the throne (1830). There have been short-lived rebellions in the mean while, and it is said there is no stability now.' The Bourgeois, and even the nobility, are tired of the Bourbons; and "the innovation-loving, excitable, loquacious, and unsteady Neapolitan people" are also quite ready for any change. But look, "What envious streaks. Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. I have been so interested in my nobile ozio as to write all night, a poor preparation for to-morrow's - nay, today's sight-seeing. * 1858. C STONE TONGUE. HAVE received great assistance lately in this examination of Neapolitan churches from our new friend Mr. Luini. does not seem new to me. New friend? He It is not more than two months since I first met him at the Folhams, and yet I feel as if I had known him years instead of weeks. There are many reasons to be offered for the close intimacy which is fast growing up between us. We are of the same faith, and hold similar views about our grand old religion. Then we are travellers, not residents, and acquaintances ripen into friendships on journeys much more quickly than by firesides. Janet rallies me playfully on my enthusiasm about him once in a while, although she also likes him very much; but I retort quite good-humoredly by quoting Jean Paul to her. "There is a sacred fault noble maidens have of forming too enthusiastic conceptions of their friends. Married women rarely do this, because ordinary men check and discourage all feminine enthusiasm which is not for themselves, and sometimes they weary of that." Mrs. Rochester teasingly says, "Are you not afraid of spoiling Mr. Luini ?” And I reply, with one of my strong human faiths, – "It is the way to test him. Great natures are never injured by appreciation and preference, even when frankly and openly expressed; on the contrary, they are encouraged by it, and grow nobler, nor do they ever misunderstand it. It is only the petty, inferior mind which puts a wrong construction on such regard, and wounds us by its vanity and conceit." He appears to have made Naples his home, for the present, at least. He has a pleasant suite of apartments in a palazzo on the Chiaja, near the Church of San Pasquale, not far from our friends the Rochesters. He has a very fine library, judging from the nice works he lends. me: indeed I cannot mention a book of reference, without receiving it from him immediately, handsomely illustrated old folios, such as St. Non and Montfaucon, together with modern works like Cicognara, and all the standard histories, Guicciardini, Giannone, and the like. He is very intimate with that excellent man, the Saint Charles Borromeo of the present day, the Archbishop of Naples, Cardinal Duke Sforza; and when any surprise is felt by his acquaintances at his perfect independence of life and opinions, his intimacy with this prelate seems to be the satisfying reason. I fancy, however, that the intimacy has no more power than this; the Cardinal knows him to be a prudent, wise, good man, and such men command independence of mind and action everywhere. There is some mystery, I believe, about his "antecedents," as we Americans say; and, although an Italian by birth, he has very little intercourse with resident Neapolitans. His intimacies are mostly with foreigners, especially the English. This arises, I suppose, from the fact of his mother's having been an Englishwoman. She must have been a person of high culture and great love liness, for he has spoken of her to me with an affection amounting to veneration. She died while he was quite young; for he has passed the age of early manhood, being now about thirty, or may be a little older. There is a rumor that he was interested in the Milanese political troubles of 1848, and this same rumor makes the story complete by supposing him to be one of the discontented noblemen, who preferred withdrawing from a rule they could not endure to keeping up a disturbed condition of affairs in the present unripe state of the times. Whatever may have been his past, it is shrouded in impenetrable silence, which in him is not at all melodramatic. I suppose that rumor has some foundation for its stories about him. nay, I know He has tasted of the enchanted plant of our day, Liberty, and, like the Chevalier of the Saint Esprit in the old legend, has dreamed of finding the lost Grayle, and bestowing on all humanity the blessed draught of Love, Fraternity, and Equality. After his political disappointments he retired from the world for some time, and found peace and consolation in meditation and books. Like Kenelm Digby, Montalembert, and De Broglie, he is a thoroughly educated, devoted Catholic, but unlike them, he has no desire, it may be he has no power, to express himself to the world. He has by degrees passed into the rôle of an intelligent spectator, and has lost all taste for action, while he has gained more capability for, and pleasure in, thought. He often quotes Goethe's expression, "Thought expands, action narrows." His study of, and belief in, human individual liberty, have led him to prefer almost the tyranny of the masses, sooner than accept the old rule of the privileged. Only certain urgent circumstances, I am sure, could make a |