All is strange, but too close-packed to be very striking or beautiful; I found it best to linger on the sea-wall, looking at the two islands in the offing, and over the great gulf with its mountain shore stretching beyond sight.

On the rocks below stood fishermen hauling in a great net, whilst a boy splashed the water to drive the fish back until they were safely enveloped in the last meshes; admirable figures, consummate in graceful strength, their bare legs and arms the tone of terra cotta.

What slight clothing they wore became them perfectly, as is always the case with a costume well adapted to the natural life of its wearers.

Their slow, patient effort speaks of immemorial usage, and it is in harmony with time itself.

These fishermen are the primitives of Taranto; who shall say for how many centuries they have hauled their nets upon the rock?
When Plato visited the Schools of Taras, he saw the same brown-legged figures, in much the same garb, gathering their sea-harvest.