him. Probably he
repeated a mere formula learnt by heart. I wished he could have prayed
spontaneously for three hundred days of wholesome and sufficient food,
and for as many years of honest, capable government in his
heavy-burdened country.

When travelling, I always visit the burial-ground; I like to see how a
people commemorates its dead, for tombstones have much significance.
The cemetery of Cotrone lies by the sea-shore, at some distance beyond
the port, far away from habitations; a bare hillside looks down upon
its graves, and the road which goes by is that leading to Cape Colonna.
On the way I passed a little ruined church, shattered, I was told, by
an earthquake three years before; its lonely position made it
interesting, and the cupola of coloured tiles (like that of the
Cathedral at Amalfi) remained intact, a bright spot against the grey
hills behind. A high enclosing wall signalled the cemetery; I rang a
bell at the gate and was admitted by a man of behaviour and language
much more refined than is common among the people of this region; I
felt sorry, indeed, that I had not found him seated in the Sindaco's
chair that morning. But as guide to the burial-ground he was
delightful. Nine years, he told me, he had held the post of custodian,
in which time, working with his own hands, and unaided, he had turned
the enclosure from a wretched wilderness into a beautiful garden.
Unaffectedly I admired the results of his labour, and my praise
rejoiced him greatly. He specially requested me to observe the
geraniums; there were ten species, many of them of extraordinary size
and with magnificent blossoms. Roses I saw, too, in great abundance;
and tall snapdragons, and bushes of rosemary, and many flowers unknown
to me. As our talk proceeded the gardener gave me a little light on his
own history; formerly he was valet to a gentleman of Cotrone, with whom
he had travelled far and wide over Europe; yes, even to London, of
which he spoke with expressively wide eyes, and equally expressive
shaking of the head. That any one should journey from Calabria to
England seemed to him intelligible enough; but he marvelled that I had
thought it worth while to come from England to Calabria. Very rarely
indeed could he show his garden to one from a far-off country; no, the
place was too poor, accommodation too rough; there needed a certain
courage, and he laughed, again shaking his head.

The ordinary graves were marked with a small wo