Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1899-09-03


Henry left the city BY the Porta d
San Lorenzo. and taking the Tivoli
road the ancient Via Tiburtina
he Is now resting on the block OF ira
yertine, after ten miles steady
tramp. So far no adventure has be-
fallen him. nor incident worth relat-
ing. Indeed, he has scarce encounter
ed human being, for the Agra Roma
ma is an almost uninhabited country,
dale, though not absolutely a desert.
seeming so at certain seasons of the
year, when the crops have been gath
cred OFF it Now and then he has met
vain laden with these and slowly
numbering along, drawn by great
white oxen with soft, meek eyes and
wide extended horns. in charge of con-
tadinos: and once a wine cart going
at greater speed, its triangular tilt Civ
ing shade to the driver, with his dimin-
utive Pomeranian dog, whose sharp
yelping treble keeps accompaniment
with the duller rafting of the wheels.
Here and there, on knobs near the
roadside, he has seen the conical-shap-
ed huts (eapanin) Of the shepherds
themselves leaning forward on their
long slaves, with legs wide apart, Civ
ing them resemblance to gigantic tri-
pods, their shaggy goatskin dresses
further assimilating them to the tabled
Panther prototype. He sees them
leading their fiocks-for here they do
not follow-from hill to hill; hears
their shouts and the barking of their
great savage dogs-dangerous to APP
proach. At intervals, too, his ears are
saluted by stornelli or staye of some
wild Campagna song, in long-drawn,
plaintive strain. In all this there is
nothing unpleasant, but the contrary.
The young Englishman is charmed with
sights and scenes new to him, customs
and costumes that to the eye of an
artist have all the elements of attrac-
ton. Hence the delight to which he
has given such rapturous expression.
He can scarce restrain himself from
drawing out his sketch book and filling
one of its pages at every half mile Of
his march. Were he inclined for
ruins, they are around him. Broken
columns of tombs and temples, shatter-
ed arches of aqueducts, with their sup
porting pillars crumbling to de-
cay; monuments Of ancient, me-
diaeval, and more modern times,
all slumbering in the silence
of death; grand mansions I'M
tenanted save by the dead, their de-
serted courts checked up by TALL rank
weeds, their only living occupants bats
and owls; or if a human being, some
shepherd seated on the pedestal of
displaced statue, his goats erect on their
hind legs to reach the honeysuckles and
other creeping plants that cluster root
ed in the ruins. That Henry Harding
has not already stopped to sketch some
of these scenes is because he knows
they will he always there, as also the
shepherds; and he hopes to have many
an opportunity better than the present
For he is now on Journey at the end
of which he expects to behold some
thing of even still greater interest than
an Italian ruin-a beautiful Italian girl
He is about to start to his feet, and
continue on, when, turning his face for
Tivoli, he perceiyes two men approach
ing from that objectionable himself,
pedestrians. They are in the garb of
the Abruzzi, with all its gaudy color
ing-scarlet waistcoats, blue jackets,
breeches of yellowish homespun, cioci,
or hide sandals, cross-corded to the
knee; short-caped cloaks-one red, the
other brown-buckled tight around
their throats; and, surmounting all,
high-peaked. conical felt hats, with
plumes OF peacock's feathers.
True, their garments are a little
threadbare, with the bright hues some
what faded, but ON this account not the
less attractive to the eye. of the young
artist, who takes in every detail as
they come towards him along the
causeway of the road. With the ordin-
airy preconceptions of the English tray-
eler in Italy, he might Wen believe
them to be brigands; for their style Of
dress is just such as is worn by these
gentry, with some slight points Of diff
ference. But instead of guns or pistols
he sees that they have no arms what
ever-at least, none visible-only
musical instruments, one carrying a
zampogna, or Italian bagpipes, the
other a sort of pastoral reed or flute,
known as piffero. He concludes, there
fore, that they are pifferari, class OF
itinerant musicians Of which he has
read and heard. Indeed, he has seen
such in London itself: for these piping
pilgrims sometimes wander far from
their native land, and may occasionally
be encountered in the streets OF the
worlds metropolis. AS rule, how
ever, they limit their peregrinations TO
the classic soil of Italy, visiting all its