Wanderings in Corsica: Its History and Its Heroes. Vol. 1 of 2

row peninsula which Corsic

mmits of which, Monte Alticcione and Monte Stello, reach an altitude of more

apels appearing through the green foliage; the cupolas of family tombs; solitary cottages on the strand; here and there a forsaken tower, in the rents of which the wild fig-tree clings, while the cactus grows profusely at its base,-make the country picturesque. The coast of Corsica is set round and round with these towers, which the Pisans and Genoese built to ward off the pi

and valleys descending close to the shore. The heights here enclose, like sides of an amphitheatre, little, blooming, shady dales, watered by noisy brooks. Scattered round, in a rude circle, stand the black villages, wit

he shore through the bright morning, with their neat baskets, full of laughing, golden fruit, enliven the way very agreeably; and perhaps it would be difficult to find anything more graceful than one of those slender, handsome girls pacing towards you, light-foote

hing but footpaths. From the shore, at the lonely little Marina di Basina, I began to ascend the hills, on which lie the three communes that form the pieve of Brando. The way was rough and steep, but cheered by gushing brooks and luxuriant gardens. The

nsformed the whole shore into a garden, which hangs above the sea, dreamy and cool with silent olives, myrtles, and laurels; there are cypresses and pines, too, isolated or in groups, flowers everywhere, ivy on the walls, vine-trellises heavy with grapes, oranges tree on tree, a little summer-hous

ns were fraternizing in a group, in which a husbandman, a soldier, a priest, and a scholar, were shaking hands; the five races were doing the same in another picture, where a European, an Asiatic, a Moor, an Australian, and a Redskin, sat sociably drinking round a table, encircled by a gay profusion of curling vine-wreaths. I immediately perceive

e, the Journal des Débats in his hand, pleased

ntrat Social of Rousseau, and some of the Republic of Plato.

barbarism, and how impotent theory was proving itself. But these are

apriccio, and is being led to the scaffold; to-day a practical philosopher, and philanthropic advocate of universal brotherhood-both equally genuine Corsicans, their history and character the result of the history of their nation. As I passed under the

mes-and there preached the gospel. It is certain that Cape Corso was the district of the island into which Christianity

inated this beautiful crypt, of such bizarre stalactite formations as only a Gothic architect could imagine-in pointed arches, pillar-capitals, domed niches, and rosettes. The grottos of Corsica are her oldest Gothic churches, for Nature built them in

all of dropstone, all stalactites, and they wore little yellow crowns of the fairest alabaster. They never moved; but they all held their hands stretched out towards the white maiden, as if they wished to lift her veil, and bitter drops were falling from their eyes. It seemed to me as if I knew some of them, and as if I mus

ully from the roof-when the gardener's daughter entered, and said: "It is time!" "Time! to raise the veil of Isis?-O ye eterna

a bandit; the poor wretch had crept into this cave, and died in it like a wounded deer." Nothing was now left of the piece but the rusty barrel. It may have sped th