Theoretically aware of the danger I was running, but, in fact, thinking little about it, I braved the wind and the sunshine all day long; my sketch-book gained by it, and my store of memories.

First of all, I looked into the Cathedral, an ugly edifice, as uninteresting within as without.

Like all the churches in Calabria, it is white-washed from door to altar, pillars no less than walls--a cold and depressing interior.

I could see no picture of the least merit; one, a figure of Christ with hideous wounds, was well-nigh as repulsive as painting could be.

This vile realism seems to indicate Spanish influence.