of his
fish-preserves. Arrived near the mouth of the tunnel I found a
signal-box, where several railway men were grouped in talk; to them I
addressed myself, and all immediately turned to offer me guidance. We
had to clamber down a rocky descent, and skirt the waves for a few
yards; when my cluster of companions had sufficiently shown their
good-will, all turned back but one, who made a point of giving me safe
conduct into the cave itself. He was a bronzed, bright-eyed,
happy-looking fellow of middle age, his humorous intelligence appearing
in a flow of gossip about things local. We entered a narrow opening,
some twelve feet high, which ran perhaps twenty yards into the cliff.
Lenormant supposes that this was a quarry made by the original Greek
colonists. If Cassiodorus used it for the purpose mentioned, the cave
must have been in direct communication either with the sea or the
river; at present, many yards of sloping shingle divide it from the
line of surf, and the river flows far away. Movement of the shore there
has of course been, and the Pellena may have considerably changed the
direction of its outflow; our author's description being but vague, one
can only muse on probabilities and likelihoods.

Whilst we talked, the entrance to the cave was shadowed, and there
entered one of the men who had turned back half-way; his face betrayed
the curiosity which had after all prevailed to bring him hither.
Shouting merrily, my companion hailed him as "Brigadiere." The two
friends contrasted very amusingly; for the brigadiere was a mild,
timid, simple creature, who spoke with diffidence; he kept his
foolishly good-natured eyes fixed upon me, a gaze of wonder. After
listening to all that my guide had to say--it was nothing to the point,
dealing chiefly with questions of railway engineering--I had just begun
to explain my interest in the locality, and I mentioned the name of
Cassiodorus. As it passed my lips the jovial fellow burst into a roar
of laughter. "Cassiodorio! Ha, ha! Cassiodorio! Ha, ha, ha!" I asked
him what he meant, and found that he was merely delighted to hear a
stranger unexpectedly utter a name in familiar local use. He ran out
from the cave, and pointed up the valley; yonder was a fountain which
bore the name "Fontana di Cassiodorio." (From my authors I knew of
this; it may or may not have genuine historic interest.) Thereupon, I
tried to discover whether any traditions hung to the name, but these
informants