ere along the
deep watercourse trickled a scarce perceptible stream. On either hand
were hills of pleasant outline, tilled on the lower slopes, and often
set with olives. Here and there came a grassy slope, where shepherds or
goatherds idled amid their flocks. Above the ascent a long tunnel,
after which the line falls again towards the sea. The landscape took a
nobler beauty; mountains spread before us, tenderly coloured by the
autumn sun. We crossed two or three rivers--rivers of flowing water,
their banks overhung with dense green jungle. The sea was azure, and
looked very calm, but white waves broke loudly upon the strand, last
murmur of the storm which had raged and renewed itself for nearly a
fortnight.

At one of the wayside stations entered a traveller whom I could not but
regard with astonishment. He was a man at once plump and muscular, his
sturdy limbs well exhibited in a shooting costume. On his face glowed
the richest hue of health; his eyes glistened merrily. With him he
carried a basket, which, as soon as he was settled, gave forth an
abundant meal. The gusto of his eating, the satisfaction with which he
eyed his glasses of red wine, excited my appetite. But who _was_ he?
Not, I could see, a tourist; yet how account for this health and vigour
in a native of the district? I had not seen such a man since I set out
upon my travels; the contrast he made with the figures of late familiar
to me was so startling that I had much ado to avoid continuously gazing
at him. His proximity did me good; the man radiated health.

When next the train stopped he exchanged words with some one on the
platform, and I heard that he was going to Catanzaro. At once I
understood. This jovial, ruddy-cheeked personage was a man of the
hills. At Catanzaro I should see others like him; perhaps he fairly
represented its inhabitants. If so, I had reason for my suspicion that
poor fever-stricken Cotrone regarded with a sort of jealousy the breezy
health of Catanzaro, which at the same time is a much more prosperous
place. Later, I found that there did exist some acerbity of mutual
criticism between the two towns, reminding one of civic rivalry among
the Greeks. Catanzaro spoke with contempt of Cotrone. Happily I made no
medical acquaintance in the hill town; but I should have liked to
discuss with one of these gentlemen the view of their climate held by
Dr. Sculco.

In the ages that followed upon the fall of Rome, perpetual danger drov