whose gales, in former times, were fraught with death, that but little danger is to be apprehended from travelling through it now, except during the prevalence of the dogstar.

The Pontine marshes form but a small portion of a tract of that part of Italy, which borders the Mediterranean from the mountains of Genoa to the extremity of Calabria. Of about seven hundred miles in length, they consist, except in a few places, such as Naples, where hills intervene, of a broad stripe of flat country extending from the seashore to the lower ridges of the Apennine mountains. This region is called the Maremma. It is particularly unhealthy during the summer months, from June to October, when all the inhabitants who are able remove to the hills, and the few who are obliged to remain are exposed to the malaria fever, an intermittent ague, which emaciates the body, exhausts the vital strength, and, if not checked in time, proves fatal to the patient. The farms in the greater part of this immense tract, and more particularly in the Roman and Tuscan divisions of it, are very large, often extending to several thousand acres. They are held by wealthy tenants, who live in the towns and keep agents and domestics who reside on the spot, at least till harvest-time. By far the greater part of the land, although arable, is left for pasture, about one fourth or one sixth being brought into cultivation by annual rotation. No villages or cottages are to be seen; but here and there, at long intervals, a dingy, dismal-look. ing casale or farmhouse, a speck in the midst of the desert. As there is no fixed population in these plains, laborers are engaged from the interior, and chiefly from the highlands of the Apennines, where a scanty soil, though under a healthy climate, does not furnish sufficient occupation for the native peasantry. They generally come down from the mountains in October, in bands of about one hundred each, under the guidance of a leader, a sort of jobber, who stipulates for their services and pay with the agent of the farm. It is calculated that about twenty thousand come down in this manner every year in the Campagna or plains of Rome alone. Many of them remain till May, employed in the different works of the farm. They are engaged mostly by the season, and receive at the rate of from twenty to thirty cents a day.. Their chief nourishment consists of polenta, or Indian corn flour, boiled, with water and salt, into a sort of pudding, with the occasional addition of skimmed milk or grated cheese. They sleep on the bare ground, either in the casale, or under shelter of temporary huts made with canes (arundo tenax), which grow luxuriantly in these regions.

At harvest-time, about the latter end of June, a new reinforcement of laborers from the mountains is required. This is the most critical period in the year for those poor men who come by thousands from the pure and wholesome atmosphere of their native districts to inhale the pestilential air of the lowlands, working by day under a burning sun, and sleeping at night in the open air, exposed to the heavy dews and to the bite of gnats and other insects. The harvestmen are engaged for eleven or twelve days, sometimes a fortnight, and they are paid at the rate of about forty cents a day. They are also better fed at this time, and have a plentiful allowance of wine and water. The corn must be cut, thrashed, winnowed, and carried into the granary, by the middle of July, after which no one dares to remain in the fields. Mr. Chateauvieux, who visited one of these immense farms during the harvest season, gives the following description of the scene:

"The fattore or steward ordered horses for us to visit the farm, and while they were getting ready I examined the casale or farmhouse, a noble but gloomy structure. It consisted of a spacious kitchen and two large apartments adjoining, at the end of which were three other rooms of similar dimensions, all totally destitute of furniture, not even having windows. These formed the ground floor of the centre building. Above them were six other rooms of the same size used as granaries, one only being furnished for the use of the superintendents. The wings were formed by capacious arched stables, at once airy and cool; and above them were lofts for hay. This part of the establishment is almost superfluous, being merely used to put up the cattle employed in the work of the farm during the resting-time in the middle of the day; at all others they are turned out to graze in the open air. There was not the least appearance of care or neatness about the whole farm. Neither trees, gardens, nor vegetables, were to be seen. To my observations about this negligence the people replied that the cattle would trample down and destroy whatever might be planted or sown, and that it was therefore more convenient to purchase their vegetables in the neighboring towns, which are surrounded with vineyards, orchards, and gardens.

The expense of carriage is nothing on these large grazing farms, where there are always cattle in abundance. They put a loaf and a bundle of hay into the cart, and thus equipped will perform a journey of sixty miles without any expense. This abundance of animals constitutes the only luxury of these farms. Neither steward, superintendents, nor even the herdsmen, ever think of going on foot. They are always on horseback, galloping at full speed over the plains, with a gun or a pungolo or spear in their hands, and horses are always kept ready saddled in the stables, each person employed on the farm having two assigned for his use. As soon as we were mounted, the steward conducted us to the part of the farm where the harvest had commenced. Broad stripes, of a golden yellow, extended at a distance over the undulated surface of the soil toward the sea; and we at length came in sight of a sort of army in battle array, with the commanders on horseback having lances in their hands, fixed to their stations. We passed several carts drawn by oxen, which were loaded with bread intended for the consumption of the men. We beheld before us a long line of a thousand reapers round a vast tract of corn which was silently falling under their sickles, while twelve superintendents on horseback surveyed and animated them from behind. They raised a loud shout at our approach, which resounded through the solitude, and was intended as a salute to the master of the farm. Soon after, the carts which we had passed drew up under the shade of some oaks, which were providentially still remaining in the middle of the plain. At a signal given, the reapers quitted their work, and the whole troop defiled before us. There were about as many men as women, all natives of the Abruzzi. The former were good figures, but the women were frightful. They were bathed in sweat, for the heat was terrible. Though it was only a few days since they left the mountains, the malaria was beginning to affect them. Two only had as yet been attacked by the fever, but I was told that the number would increase daily, and that by the end of the harvest, scarce half the troop would be left. What becomes of these poor wretches?' inquired I. We give them a piece of bread, and send them away.' But where do they go?'They return toward the mountains: some of them die on the road, and the others reach home exhausted with illness and fatigue to recommence the same attempt next year. The repast of this day was a festival; for the master, in order to make his visit the more welcome, had purchased at Genzano two cartloads of watermelons, which were distributed to the reapers with the bread, which in general forms their only food. The eyes of the poor people were eagerly fixed on these fine fruits, and I can not describe the joy which appeared in their countenances when the large knives displayed the red pulp and refreshing juice of the melons, and spread around a delicious perfume. They make three meals a day, which divides their labors into

two periods, and they are allowed two hours sleep in the middle of the day. Their slumbers at that time are unattended with danger; but the earth still serves as their bed after the cold dews of the evening have descended upon it, and they pass the night on the moist turf in the midst of sulphureous exhalations. Their employers say that they would lose too much time were they to return every evening to sleep at the casale, which in these extensive farms is often at a great distance."

Thus for about five dollars, to which the wages of a reaper during the harvest fortnight amount, thousands of the poor men walk fifty or sixty miles and back again, to work in the pestilential flats of the Maremma, with the prospect of catching the fever, and either dying away from home, or returning sickly and debilitated for the rest of the year. Such is, and has been for ages past, the condition of laborers in some of the most celebrated regions of Italy. In the time of the ancient Romans the country was cultivated chiefly by slaves, who were considered no better than cattle, and over whose persons the owners had unlimited power, beating them, mutilating them, or putting them to death at their will. Christianity effected a great change: the slaves became, first of all, serfs attached to the soil, and bound to perform a certain measure of work for their masters, but their persons were placed under the protection of the laws. By degrees the serfs became emancipated over the greatest part of Europe, and although most of them continued poor, they were enabled to dispose of their own labor and carry it to the best market. This is as much as human justice and benevolence have been able to effect as yet for the laborers of Europe in the course of eighteen centuries. Any further improvement in their condition must be the result of a slow progress in the general condition of society, to be accelerated by the diffusion of sound knowledge.

The only stationary population in the Maremma consists of the cow and buffalokeepers, and forest rangers. The former are always mounted and armed with a lance, with which they keep in respect the wild cows and fierce bulls, which are let to roam about these solitudes. These keepers lead a life of freedom and independence, like that of the Arabs in the desert; they are paid by yearly wages, besides which they generally rear up cattle of their own, which are allowed to feed with the rest. They retire in the summer months to the shady forests which line the seashore, and where the air is not so unwholesome as in the open plains. There, also, criminals escaped from the pursuits of justice take shelter, and are sometimes employed as wood rangers or buffalo drivers by the people of the neighboring farms. The following engraving, as well as that on the preceding page, represents the mode of driving cattle to the towns.

Driving Wild Cattle in the Maremma.-No. 2.

Far different from the appearance of these poor laborers is the aspect presented by those Italian peasants who engage in the vintage :

The Vendemmia, or Vintage, is a sort of rustic carnival, or Saturnalia holyday, in which, from time immemorial, they have been accustomed to allow themselves, and to be allowed by their masters and superiors, a degree of liberty as large as obtained among the common people of ancient Rome, when they commemorated the freedom and equality which prevailed on earth in the golden reign of Saturn. As long as it lasts, the peasants employed in it indulge in a truly Fescennine license of tongue with all who approach or chance to pass by, bespattering them with all manner of queer language, and pelting them with doggrel rhymes, without any regard to their rank or condition. When the wine is all trodden out in the wine-press-trodden out by the naked feet of jumping, frolicking, roaring swains-the prime part of the festival commences, consisting, generally, of a semi-ludicrous, semi-serious, classical procession, and of a good repast at the end of it. On more than one occasion we have observed a rather nice attention to detail, and certain delicate distinctions, which were scarcely to have been expected from an ignorant, unread peasantry. One procession was really admirable. Bacchus, instead of being represented in the manner of our vulgar sign-painters, by a fat, paunchy, red-faced, drunken boy, was personified by the tallest, handsomest, and most graceful young man of the party; his head was crowned with a wreath of ivy and vine-leaves, mixed with bunches of the purple grape, which hung down the sides and the back of his neck; in his right hand he carried a lance, tipped with a cone of pine or fir-apple, and the shaft was entwined with ivy and vine-leaves, and some wild autumnal flowers, the thing thus being, as nearly as might be, the classical thyrsus, one of the most ancient attributes of the god and his followers; a clean sheepskin, spotted with the red juice of the grape, in imitation of the skin of the panther or spotted pard which Bacchus is represented as wearing when he went on his expeditions, was thrown gracefully over his shoulders; he was followed by some silent, sedate women, carrying on their heads baskets filled with grapes; by little boys, carrying in their hands large bunches of the same fruit; by Bacchante of both sexes, who carried sticks, entwined with vineleaves; by two or three carri, or carts, which had been used to convey the ripe fruit to the wine-press, each drawn by a pair of tall, cream-colored oxen, with those large, dark, and pensive eyes, to which Homer formerly thought it no disparagement to compare the eyes of the wife of Jupiter; and in the rear of all came Silenus, a fat old man, with his face and hands besmeared with wine-lees, bestriding a fat old The Bacchante bounded, danced, frolicked, and laughed uproariously; Silenus lolled and rolled upon his donkey, singing snatches of Vendemmia songs, making all sorts of ludicrous grimaces and gestures, and jocosely, yet loudly abusing every stranger or neighbor he discovered in the throng. But Bacchus preserved the decorum and dignity of the true classical character of the god who was as graceful as Apollo, who shared with that divinity the dominion of Parnassus, and the faculty and glory of inspiring poets with immortal verse. The joyous shouts of "Viva Bacco! Viva la Vendemmia!" the laughs and shouts of the Bacchante, the songs and jokes of old Silenus, were mingled with the beat and jingle of two or three tambour ines, with the rural sound of cowhorns, and occasionally with the blasts of a cracked but antique-looking trumpet, and with the clapping of hands and shoutings of all the men and women, boys and girls, of the district. The Cæcuban hills, which bore the fruit productive of the generous wine which Horace extolled as the drink of Mæcenas and which render as good wine now, though all unknown to fame, as they did in the days of Augustus Cæsar-echoed and re-echoed with the joyous sounds, for the scene of the festivity was at the foot of those hills, on whose sunny slopes the vines had ripened which furnished this happy vintage.

ass.

When questioned as to how they arranged their very classical procession, the peas ants could only say that they did as they had done year after year, and as their fathers and grandfathers had done before them. The parocchiano, or parish-priest, who thought it no sin or degradation to follow the procession, and partake in the feast, did not appear to have much more learning on the subject.

At times, these joyous peasants come from considerable distances; but whether their journey be a long or a short one, they always contrive to come to the Tiber and into the renowned old city, dancing and singing. When the distance from the vine yard is short, they will generally dance the whole way, only taking little rests between, to refresh themselves with some bunches of the grapes they had been