d yield. But however
valuable the fruit, the wood of the tree is worthless for commerce, except
to make walking-sticks, or to serve the ignoble purpose of supplying
hotels and cafes with tooth-picks! Lemons, which are far more delicate
than oranges and require to be kept protected by screens and matting
during the sharp winter nights, are less common at Sorrento than on the
warmer shores of the Bay of Baia or the sunny terraced slopes of the
Amalfitan coast.

With the ripening of the oranges on the trees appear those strange
creatures from the wilds of the Basilicata or Calabria, the _Zampognari_,
who visit Naples and the surrounding district in considerable numbers.
They usually arrive about the date of the great popular festival of the
Immaculate Conception (December 8th) and remain until the end of the
month, when they return to their homes with well-filled purses. In outward
aspect these strangers resemble the stage-brigands that appear in such
old-fashioned operas as _Fra Diavolo_, for they wear steeple-crowned hats
with coloured ribands depending, shaggy goat-skin trousers, crimson velvet
waistcoats, blue cloaks, sandalled feet and gartered legs. Their pale
faces are unshorn, and their hair hangs in great tawny masses over neck
and ears, which are invariably adorned with golden rings. These fellows
come in pairs, one only, properly speaking, being the _zampognaro_, for it
is he who carries the _zampogna_ or classical bag-pipe of Southern Italy,
whilst his companion is the _cennamellaro_, so called from his
ear-splitting instrument, the _cennamella_, a species of primitive flute.
The _zampogna_ may be described as first cousin to the historic bag-pipes
of Caledonia, for the sounds emitted strongly resemble the traditional
"skirling" of the pipes; but no Scotchman even could pretend to delight in
the shrill notes of the _cennamella_. The former at least of these two
popular instruments of southern Italy was well known to the omniscient
author of the Shakespearean plays, for in _Othello_ we have a direct
allusion to the uncouth braying music still made to-day by these
outlandish musicians.

"Why, masters, have your instruments been in Naples, that they speak i'
the nose thus?... Are these, I pray you, wind instruments?... Then put up
your pipes in your bag, for I'll away: go; vanish into air; away!"

In the midst of their instrumental duet the two shaggy mountaineers are
apt to break into a harsh nasal hymn in hono