recent years and the unhealthy marshes of the coast line are
being gradually drained, the numbers of buffalo tend to decrease, whilst
the native Italian oxen are being introduced once more into the newly
reclaimed pastures. That former arch-enemy of the cattle in the days of
Vergil seems to have disappeared: that "flying pest," the _asilo_ of the
Romans and the _aestrum_ of the Greeks, which in antique times was wont to
drive the grazing herds frantic with terror and pain, until the valley of
the Tanager and the Alburnian woods re-echoed with the agonised lowing of
the poor tortured creatures. And speaking of noxious insects, a general
belief prevails in Italy that their bite--as well as that of snakes and
scorpions--becomes more acute and dangerous when the sun enters into the
sign of Lion, so that human beings, as well as defenceless cattle, must
carefully avoid all chances of being bitten during the months of July and
August.

Before our goal can be reached it is necessary for us to cross the broad
willow-fringed stream of the Sele, the Silarus of antiquity, which
according to the testimony of Silius Italicus once possessed the property
of petrifying wood. In the distant days of the eighteenth century, the
traveller to Paestum had to endure amidst other difficulties and dangers
of the road the disagreeable business of being ferried across the Sele,
which was then bridgeless. Owing to the malaria and the loneliness of the
spot, the acting of ferryman over this river was not an agreeable post,
and Count Stolberg, a German dilettante who has left some memories of his
Italian wanderings, relates how a feeble dismal soured old man, a
veritable Charon of the upper air, had great difficulty in conveying
himself, his horse and his servant across the swollen stream. The old
man's age and misery aroused the Count's compassion, so that he asked him
why he continued thus to perform a task at once so arduous and so
distasteful. "Sir," replied the boatman, "I would gladly be excused, but
that my master compels me to undertake this work." "And who, pray, is this
tyrant of a master of yours?" indignantly enquired the Count. "Sir, it is
my Lord Poverty!" grimly answered the old ferryman, as he pocketed the
Teuton's fee. Times have changed with regard to the necessity of a ferry
over the Sele, but to judge from the appearance of the people and from the
accounts in the journals, we much doubt if my Lord Poverty's sway has been
much weak