Mr. Smith, to whom allusion is made above, is said to be a gentleman of liberal fortune, and to have carefully studied navigation, and in numerous voyages in his yacht through these seas to have practised it, for the especial purpose of investigating and illustrating the points embraced in this interesting portion of the sacred history. He has pretty satisfactorily established the precise route of the Apostle on this famous journey, which is the most universally familiar of all in ancient or modern life. The curious suggestion of such personal relations between Paul and Josephus is not new; it was made some time in the seventh century in the Reflections of Bernardin Pastouret, and perhaps at an earlier time by others. The author whose words are here quoted, is Mr. John Sharpe, and he has very clearly presented the case.
THE COUNT MONTE-LEONE: OR, THE SPY IN SOCIETY.[N]
Translated For The International Monthly Magazine From the French of H. De St. Georges.
While the events we have described are taking place at Sorrento, we will retrace our steps to the Etruscan House, where we left Monte-Leone and Taddeo when the latter placed in the hands of the former the letter of La Felina. The Count opened the letter, and read:
"Taddeo--You told me in the prison of the palace of the Dukes of Palma, whither I went to find you, '_Love which speculates is not love. Mine will obey you for obedience' sake. Try, however, to ask something grand and difficult, that you may judge it by its fruits._'"
"Then you love her?" said Monte-Leone, interrupting himself.
"'Your heart, Taddeo, is noble,' replied I. 'I have faith in it. May God grant that your strength do not betray your courage. In four days you will learn what I expect from you.' I write down what I expect, for I have not courage to tell you. I cannot crush your hopes, though I know that they cannot be realized. The feelings you have avowed to me, Taddeo, demand entire confidence: for it would be a crime to deceive a heart like yours. I will therefore tell you the truth, painful as it may be. It is a year since I came to Naples, having been attracted thither by a brilliant engagement at San Carlo. My success was as great as it had been in the other capitals of Italy. After the applause and ovations of the public--the truest and most discriminating of all--came privileged admirers; those, who, from their rank, birth, and fortune, have a right to pass the curtain of the sanctuary, and cast incense at the very foot of the idol; who can compliment the artiste on the stage, and follow her with their commonplaces to her very box. There was no scarcity of sacrificers. The noblest of Naples overwhelmed me with adulations; from compliments they came to declaration, and there, as at Rome, Venice, and elsewhere, I was persecuted by the insipid gallantries of suitors, to which every successful artiste possessed of any personal attraction must submit. To all these advances my heart remained cold, and my insensibility cost me nothing; for I neither loved nor wished to. A strange event, however, changed my plans. It was an evening of last autumn, and the air was as sultry as possible. Exhausted by the heat of the theatre, after the performance was over I sent my carriage home, and resolved, in company with my _confidante_, to return on foot. I avoided my many suitors, and escaped from the theatre by a back-door. The air was so pure, and the night so beautiful, that I walked for some time on the _chiaja_. It was late when I returned homeward. Crossing an isolated street, which I had taken to shorten the walk, my _confidante_ and myself were unexpectedly attacked by a party of men who stood beneath the portico of a palace. They had well-nigh stifled our cries with scarfs, which had been thrown over our heads, and we should possibly have been murdered, when a man, rushing sword in hand, I know not whence, attacked our aggressors, disarmed three of them, whom he put to flight, and killed the fourth by a dagger-thrust. Rapidly as possible, he then took off the bandages from our faces, and gave me, half dead with terror, his arm.