icturesque humanity. The combined sounds of creaking wheels, of
falling water and of human chattering are almost deafening within this
narrow echo-filled gorge, above which in the far distance we catch a
glimpse of rocky heights with the town of Scala perched eyrie-like against
the deep blue of the sky overhead. Pretty laughing girls, bare-footed and
with marvellously white teeth, emerge from the open door-ways to smile
pleasantly at us, for the workers of the Valle de' Molini are thoroughly
accustomed to the presence of strangers in their midst. Half-naked men,
who have stepped for a moment out of the hot rooms of the maccaroni
factories in order to breathe the fresh air, regard us with calm disdain
and without any seeming interest. Our presence is tolerated, even if our
reception excites no feelings of surprise or cordiality, so that we are
allowed to pursue our walk up the ever-narrowing valley in peace and
comfort and to admire at our leisure the wonderfully beautiful effects of
colouring produced by the cascades of purple-stained water, the graceful
forms and gay dresses of the girls, and the peeps of fruit-laden orange
trees above fern-clad walls. And how dark the people are! For though black
eyes and hair are commonly associated with the Italian race, yet in the
North we find abundant evidence of the admixture of Teutonic blood, whilst
in the South the fair-haired Norman settlers have left indelible marks of
their conquest of Naples and Sicily in many blue-eyed and white-skinned
descendants; but here in Amalfi a blonde complexion seems to be absolutely
unknown. "_Com' e bianco! Com' e bianco!_" called out one of a party of
girls with swarthy skin and ebon hair and tresses, who languidly came out
to stare at us, as we wended our way slowly up the Valley of the Mills.

[Illustration: IN THE VALLEY OF THE MILLS, AMALFI]

But the chief pride of Amalfi, and indeed its sole surviving fragment of
departed magnificence, is the Cathedral, dedicated to St Andrew the
Apostle, who is patron of the city. A broad flight of steps, flanked on
either side by the Archbishop's Palace and the residence of the Canons,
leads to a platform covered by a most beautiful Gothic _loggia_ set with
richly traceried windows and upheld by antique marble columns. At its
northernmost angle we see springing into the blue aether the tall graceful
red-and-white striped campanile, surmounted by its barbaric-looking
green-tiled cupola and pinnacles.