NAPLES. 149 



■ For fun about the lottery read Dickens' pictures from Italy. 

 One terrible summer dajs I hardly know why, a mighty, 

 morbid yearning seized me to go and see the public burying 

 place of the poor, high up on the hill and well away from 

 the habitations of the living. So far, so good. I was shown 

 a large, stone paved, high walled court, into which the sun's 

 rays were striking, and striking with a vengeance. In this 

 pavement were 366 stone slabs that covered the openings to 

 as many pits about fifteen feet deep, a pit to a day the year 

 round. They were all mortared tight. The one of the day 

 before, freshly. I should not do so now, but at that time of 

 my life I asked to have the pit of the day before opened. 

 The custode very sensibly refused. The heat was tremendous 

 and — all the rest of it. So the slab of the day was wrenched 

 out of its place by a suitable contrivance and I had the satis- 

 faction of looking down upon a mass of corruption and a 

 number of peering rats. How they got into those tightly 

 walled pits is their own lookout. The bodies are brought up 

 by public conveyance and await the hour. One was lying 

 coverlesri under the wall, festering in the sun, and several 

 hundred thousand flics were in close attendance. I was told 

 that at the proper time service is held over the bodies and they 

 are lowered into the pit. As to the service, no doubt. But as 

 to the rest — there is no one to see or to tell. And I do not 

 believe that much rope is worn out. There is a story told 

 how the public cartman in the service of the cemetery went to 

 the authorities and complained that his one horse could not 

 draw so much up the hill. The officer in charge sternly 

 twisted his mustaches. "How is this, sir? Is there not a 

 one horse omnibus that goes that way every day and takes a 

 greater number than you do ? " " Excellenza, ' ' said the man, 

 " what you say is quite true, but when that omnibus reaches 

 the foot of that hill that driver courteously suggests to those 

 passengers that they get out and walk. ' E la vada dire a 

 questi signori miei di scenderc.' And just go tell those gen- 

 tleman in my omnibus to get out and walk, will you ? " 



