In the grey light of this sad billowy sky, only its ancient foulness is manifest; there needs the golden sunlight to bring out a suggestion of its ancient charm.
Has Naples grown less noisy, or does it only seem so to me?
The men with bullock carts are strangely quiet; their shouts have nothing like the frequency and spirit of former days.

In the narrow and thronged Strada di Chiaia I find little tumult; it used to be deafening.

Ten years ago a foreigner could not walk here without being assailed by the clamour of _cocchieri_; nay, he was pursued from street to street, until the driver had spent every phrase of importunate invitation; now, one may saunter as one will, with little disturbance.

Down on the Piliero, whither I have been to take my passage for Paola, I catch but an echo of the jubilant uproar which used to amaze me.

Is Naples really so much quieter?
If I had time I would go out to Fuorigrotta, once, it seemed to me, the noisiest village on earth, and see if there also I observed a change.