Good-looking people, grave of manner, and doing their business without noise.

It was my last sight of the Calabrian hillsmen; to the end they held my interest and my respect.
When towns have sucked dry their population of strength and virtue, it is such folk as these, hardy from the free breath of heaven and the scent of earth, who will renew a flaccid race.
Walking beyond the town in the southern direction, where the shape of Etna shows more clearly amid the lower mountains, I found myself approaching what looked like a handsome public edifice, a museum or gallery of art.

It was a long building, graced with a portico, and coloured effectively in dull red; all about it stood lemon trees, and behind, overtopping the roof, several fine palms.

Moved by curiosity I quickened my steps, and as I drew nearer I felt sure that this must be some interesting institution of which I had not heard.

Presently I observed along the facade a row of heads of oxen carved in stone--an ornament decidedly puzzling.