sts and every nook in these almost inaccessible hills with life。 Perhaps the delicious climate； which avoids all extremes； sufficiently accounts for this； and yet I have sometimes thought there is a more subtle reason why travelers from far lands are spellbound here； often against will and judgment； week after week； month after month。
However this may be； it is certain that strangers who come here； and remain long enough to get entangled in the meshes which some influence； I know not what； throws around them； are in danger of never departing。 I know there are scores of travelers； who whisk down from Naples； guidebook in hand； goaded by the fell purpose of seeing every place in Europe； ascend some height； buy a load of the beautiful inlaid woodwork； perhaps row over to Capri and stay five minutes in the azure grotto； and then whisk away again； untouched by the glamour of the place。 Enough that they write 〃delightful spot〃 in their diaries； and hurry off to new scenes； and more noisy life。 But the visitor who yields himself to the place will soon find his power of will departing。 Some satirical people say； that； as one grows strong in body here； he becomes weak in mind。 The theory I do not accept： one simply folds his sails； unships his rudder； and waits the will of Providence； or the arrival of some compelling fate。 The longer one remains； the more difficult it is to go。 We have a fashionindeed； I may call it a habitof deciding to go； and of never going。 It is a subject of infinite jest among the habitues of the villa； who meet at table； and who are always bidding each other good…by。 We often go so far as to write to Naples at night； and bespeak rooms in the hotels； but we always countermand the order before we sit down to breakfast。 The good…natured mistress of affairs； the head of the bureau of domestic relations； is at her wits' end； with guests who always promise to go and never depart。 There are here a gentleman and his wife； English people of decision enough； I presume； in Cornwall； who packed their luggage before Christmas to depart； but who have not gone towards the end of February；who daily talk of going； and little by little unpack their wardrobe； as their determination oozes out。 It is easy enough to decide at night to go next day； but in the morning； when the soft sunshine comes in at the window； and when we descend and walk in the garden； all our good intentions vanish。 It is not simply that we do not go away； but we have lost the motive for those long excursions which we made at first； and which more adventurous travelers indulge in。 There are those here who have intended for weeks to spend a day on Capri。 Perfect day for the expedition succeeds perfect day； boatload after boatload sails away from the little marina at the base of the cliff； which we follow with eves of desire； butto…morrow will do as well。 We are powerless to break the enchantment。
I confess to the fancy that there is some subtle influence working this sea…change in us； which the guidebooks； in their enumeration of the delights of the region； do not touch； and which maybe reaches back beyond the Christian era。 I have always supposed that the story of Ulysses and the Sirens was only a fiction of the poets； intended to illustrate the allurements of a soul given over to pleasure； and deaf to the call of duty and the excitement of a grapple with the world。 But a lady here； herself one of the entranced； tells me that whoever climbs the hills behind Sorrento； and looks upon the Isle of the Sirens； is struck with an inability to form a desire to depart from these coasts。 I have gazed at those islands more than once； as they lie there in the Bay of Salerno； and it has always happened that they have been in a half…misty and not uncolored sunlight； but not so draped that I could not see they were only three irregular rocks； not far from shore； one of them with some ruins on it。 There are neither sirens there now； nor any other creatures； but I should be sorry to think I should never see them again。 When I look down on them； I can also turn and behold on the other side； across the Bay of Naples； the Posilipo； where one of the enchanters who threw magic over them is said to lie in his high tomb at the opening of the grotto。 Whether he does sleep in his urn in that exact spot is of no moment。 Modern life has disillusioned this region to a great extent； but the romance that the old poets have woven about these bays and rocky promontories comes very easily back upon one who submits himself long to the eternal influences of sky and sea which made them sing。 It is all one；to be a Roman poet in his villa； a lazy friar of the Middle Ages toasting in the sun； or a modern idler； who has drifted here out of the active currents of life； and cannot make up his mind to depart。
MONKISH PERCHES
On heights at either end of the Piano di Sorrento； and commanding it； stood two religious houses： the Convent of the Carnaldoli to the northeast； on the crest of the hill above Meta； the Carthusian Monastery of the Deserto； to the southwest； three miles above Sorrento。 The longer I stay here； the more respect I have for the taste of the monks of the Middle Ages。 They invariably secured the best places for themselves。 They seized all the strategic points； they appropriated all the commanding heights； they knew where the sun would best strike the grapevines； they perched themselves wherever there was a royal view。 When I see how unerringly they did select and occupy the eligible places； I think they were moved by a sort of inspiration。 In those days； when the Church took the first choice in everything； the temptation to a Christian life must have been strong。
The monastery at the Deserto was suppressed by the French of the first republic； and has long been in a ruinous condition。 Its buildings crown the apex of the highest elevation in this part of the promontory： from its roof the fathers paternally looked down upon the churches and chapels and nunneries which thickly studded all this region； so that I fancy the air must have been full of the sound of bells； and of incense perpetually ascending。 They looked also upon St。 Agata under the hill； with a church bigger than itself； upon more distinct Massa； with its chapels and cathedral and overlooking feudal tower； upon Torca； the Greek Theorica； with its Temple of Apollo； the scene yet of an annual religious festival； to which the peasants of Sorrento go as their ancestors did to the shrine of the heathen god； upon olive and orange orchards； and winding paths and wayside shrines innumerable。 A sweet and peaceful scene in the foreground； it must have been； and a whole horizon of enchantment beyond the sunny peninsula over which it lorded： the Mediterranean； with poetic Capri； and Ischia； and all the classic shore from Cape Misenum； Baiae； and Naples； round to Vesuvius； all the sparkling Bay of Naples； and on the other side the Bay of Salerno； covered with the fleets of the commerce of Amalfi； then a republican city of fifty thousand people； and Grecian Paestum on the marshy shore； even then a ruin； its deserted porches and columns monuments of an architecture never equaled elsewhere in Italy。 Upon this charming perch； the old Carthusian monks took the summer breezes and the winter sun； pruned their olives； and trimmed their grapevines； and said prayers for the poor sinners toiling in the valleys below。
The monastery is a desolate old shed now。 We left our donkeys to eat thistles in front； while we climbed up some dilapidated steps； and entered the crumbling hall。 The present occupants are half a dozen monks； and fine fellows too； who have an orphan school of some twenty lads。 We were invited to witness their noonday prayers。 The flat…roofed rear buildings extend round an oblong； quadrangular space； which is a rich garden； watered from capacious tanks； and coaxed into easy fertility by the impregnating sun。 Upon these roofs the brothers were wont to walk； and here they sat at peaceful evening。 Here； too； we strolled； and here I could not resist the temptation to lie an unheeded hour or two） soaking in the benignant February sun； above every human concern and care； looking upon a land and sea steeped in romance。 The sky was blue above； but in the south horizon； in the direction of Tunis； were the prismatic colors。 Why not be a monk； and lie in the sun？
One of the handsome brothers invited us into the refectory； a place as bare and cheerless as the feeding…room of a reform school； and set before us bread and cheese； and red wine； made by the monks。 I notice that the monks do not water their wine so much as the osteria keepers do； which speaks equally well for their religion and their taste。 The floor of the room was brick； the table plain boards； and the seats were benches； not much luxury。 The monk who served us was an accomplished man； traveled； and master of several languages。 He spoke English a little。 He had been several years in America； and was much interested when we told him our nationality。
〃Does the signor live near Mexico？〃
〃Not in dangerous proximity；〃 we replied； but we did not forfeit his good opinion by saying that we visited it but seldom。
Well； he had seen