LIFE IN AN ISLAND. 99 



these images are too gruesome for the Capri sunshine, 

 which has nothing to do with murder ; and the best 

 thing we can do, when we have descended the hill, 

 is to follow the level road the only level road in the 

 island which leads through the heart of cultivation 

 and civilisation, to the point of Tregara, where, in the 

 full sea which throbs away from this sunny beach to 

 Sicily and Africa and all the southern world, stand 

 the gigantic rocks called the Faraglioni, three mighty 

 limestone towers a stone's throw from the land. From 

 this point all the amateur artists make their first 

 sketches, and doubtless also many artists who are 

 something more than amateurs. The water beats 

 dazzling upon the everlasting foundation of these 

 wonderful landmarks, and sweeps through the chill 

 magnificent arch which pierces the heart of the 

 biggest rock, and above them flutter white flocks of 

 sea-birds, called monaclii by the natives, which make 

 their nests in the cliffs. Nothing could be more 

 different than the aspect of affairs here and in the 

 scene we have just quitted. On that side so much 

 variety and so many associations ; on this, only the 

 absolute and arbitrary sea, with those three gigantic 

 rocks standing out of it, and the quail-nets spread 

 upon the solitary beach. The scene could not be 

 more peaceful if the Faraglioni had been put in 

 harness, as becomes their name, and had grown to be 

 the Pharos of that waste of water, doing human 

 service in the most noble and touching office which 



