And the thing is no worse in Naples than it is in London, the capital of the moral British race, only here we are perfectly frank, and make no effort to hide our little sins, while there, they cover them up carefully and make believe to be virtuous.

It is the veriest humbug--the parable of Pharisee and Publican over again.
"Not quite," I observed, "for the Publican was repentant, and Naples is not." "Why should she be ?" demanded Ferrari, gayly; "what, in the name of Heaven, is the good of being penitent about anything?
Will it mend matters?
Who is to be pacified or pleased by our contrition?
God?
My dear conte, there are very few of us nowadays who believe in a Deity.
Creation is a mere caprice of the natural elements.

The best thing we can do is to enjoy ourselves while we live; we have a very short time of it, and when we die there is an end of all things so far as we are concerned." "That is your creed ?" I asked.
"That is my creed, certainly.

It was Solomon's in his heart of hearts.
'Eat, drink and be merry, for to-morrow we die.' It is the creed of Naples, and of nearly all Italy.

Of course the vulgar still cling to exploded theories of superstitious belief, but the educated classes are far beyond the old-world notions." "I believe you," I answered, composedly.