"Trillo del diavolo."

Outside the walls, on the road to Porto Rose, are the ruins of the
monastery of S. Bernardino, founded in 1450 by S. Giovanni da
Capistrano, to whom the ruined convent on the island opposite Rovigno is
also due. It once possessed a Vivarini, a Madonna with a sleeping Child,
which was sent to Vienna in 1803. In the church of S. George is a
fragment of a carved stall with a figure of the saint, which should be
mentioned.

The town of Salvore seems to have been under the jurisdiction of Pirano,
and the commune held a fair there on S. John the Baptist's Day, to
celebrate the naval battle in 1177, in which Frederick Barbarossa was
conquered in the deep bay between it and Pirano. The jousts, boat-races,
and hunts which were held then and on the feasts of Pentecost and S.
Orligo were so sumptuous that the _provveditore_ limited the
expenditure.

The last boat for Trieste left Pirano at 1.30 p.m., an hour so
ridiculously early, that we determined to walk to Isola and proceed
thence by train. We started off bravely up the steep road which led to
the fifteenth-century Porta di Raspo, obtaining fine views down the
alleys and through garden doors as we ascended the hill. High above our
heads the battlements towered, and as we approached the walls we
realised what a business it must have been to attack a town so protected
before the invention of gunpowder. Soon the road bent away to the right,
which was not the direction in which we wished to go, but a path led to
some brick-works, and there we found an idle workman, who advised us to
go along the shore as being much shorter. So we plunged and slid about
among rocks of a considerable size, and skirted the base of slippery
cliffs, and ploughed through sand and shingle for some miles, rejoicing
when we met the road again in a flat piece of land where there were
salt-pans. From this point it made a long sweep inland and then rose in
wide curves up the shoulder of a hill which divided us from Isola. Here
we saw a train draw up to take on board two gentlemen and a little boy;
there was no sign of station or halting-place, and we wondered whether
all that was necessary was to stand by the line and wave one's hand to
the driver in order to be taken up! A stony path led us to the
summit--another short cut, which happily called for less exertion than
our previous jaunt along the shore--and a charming view amply repaid us
for our labours. In the foreground the stony