_"--there's nothing but poverty. The same
reply would be given in towns and villages without number throughout
the length of Italy. I had seen poverty enough, and squalid conditions
of life, but the most ugly and repulsive collection of houses I ever
came upon was the town of Squillace. I admit the depressing effect of
rain and cloud, and of hunger worse than unsatisfied; these things
count emphatically in my case; but under no conditions could inhabited
Squillace be other than an offence to eye and nostril. The houses are,
with one or two exceptions, ground-floor hovels; scarce a weather-tight
dwelling is discoverable; the general impression is that of dilapidated
squalor. Streets, in the ordinary sense of the word, do not exist;
irregular alleys climb above the rugged heights, often so steep as to
be difficult of ascent; here and there a few boulders have been thrown
together to afford a footing, and in some places the native rock lies
bare; but for the most part one walks on the accumulated filth of ages.
At the moment of my visit there was in progress the only kind of
cleaning which Squillace knows; down every trodden way and every
intermural gully poured a flush of rain-water, with occasionally a
leaping torrent or small cascade, which all but barred progress. Open
doors everywhere allowed me a glimpse of the domestic arrangements, and
I saw that my albergo had some reason to pride itself on superiority;
life in a country called civilized cannot easily be more primitive than
under these crazy roofs. As for the people, they had a dull, heavy
aspect; rare as must be the apparition of a foreigner among them, no
one showed the slightest curiosity as I passed, and (an honourable
feature of their district) no one begged. Women went about in the rain
protected by a shawl-like garment of very picturesque colouring; it had
broad yellow stripes on a red ground, the tones subdued to a warm
richness.

The animal population was not without its importance. Turn where I
would I encountered lean, black pigs, snorting, frisking, scampering,
and squealing as if the bad weather were a delight to them. Gaunt,
low-spirited dogs prowled about in search of food, and always ran away
at my approach. In one precipitous by-way, where the air was
insupportably foul, I came upon an odd little scene: a pig and a cat,
quite alone, were playing together, and enjoying themselves with
remarkable spirit. The pig lay down in the running mud, and puss