above the
ground, and of course, the asphodel, the plant of Death. For the asphodel
is pre-eminently the flower of Southern Italy and of Sicily, since it
presents a fit emblem of a departed grandeur that is still impressive in
its decay. How beautiful to the eye appear the dark grey-green sword-like
leaves from the centre of which up-shoots the tall branching stem with its
clusters of delicate pink-striped blossoms, that show so lovely yet smell
so vile! Apart from its fetid odour, the asphodel is a thing of intense
beauty, so that a long line of these plants in full bloom, covering some
ridge of orange-coloured tufa or the velvety-grey crest of some ancient
wall, with their spikes of starry flowers standing out distinct like
floral candelabra against the clear blue of a southern sky, makes an
impression upon the beholder that will ever be gratefully remembered.

But flowers and shrubs are not the only occupants of the Poseidonian
plain, for as we proceed on our way towards the Temples, we notice in the
drier pastures large herds of the long-horned dove-coloured cattle of the
country, whilst in marshy places our interest is aroused by the sight of
great shaggy buffaloes of sinister mien. The buffalo has long been
acclimatized in Italy, though its original home seems to have been the
trackless marshes of the Tigris and Euphrates. The conquering Arabs first
introduced these uncouth Eastern cattle into Sicily, whence they were
imported into Italy by the Norman kings of Naples. In spite of its
malevolent nature and the poor quality of its flesh and hide, the buffalo
came to be extensively bred in the Pontine and Lucanian marshes, where the
moisture of the soil and the unwholesome air always affected the native
herds unfavourably. For hours together these fierce untameable beasts love
to lie amidst the swampy reed-beds, wallowing up to their flanks in slimy
malodorous mud and seemingly impervious to the ceaseless attacks of the
local wasps and gad-flies, which try in vain to penetrate with their
barbed stings the thick hairy covering of defence. Perchance between
Battipaglia and Paestum we may encounter a herd of these shaggy beeves
being driven by a peasant on horse-back, with his _pungolo_ or small lance
in hand: a human being that in his goat-skin breeches and with his
luxuriant untrimmed locks, seems to our eyes only one degree less savage
and unkempt than the fierce beasts he guides. As cultivation has made
progress of