through the drawbridge, we descended the steep hill up which we had come, and watched the inhabitants, as, in the cool of sunset, they came riding in with their various burdens upon their mules.

Many of them were loaded with grass and ferns for provender, and some with sticks, and some had tolerably heavy barrels slung on each side of their beast.

One long-suffering mule was heavily weighted. A barrel on either side, a sack of hay, and a big lad of fifteen or sixteen was at first his load; to which presently was added an additional boy, who climbed up behind and perched himself upon the sack of hay, as the poor mule plodded slowly uphill.

This elder boy was assuredly one of the most beautiful of God's creations ever seen. The grace and symmetry of his figure and movements were perfect, as with supple, bare brown feet pressing against the mule's sides, he urged on the patient beast; his features were faultless, and his splendid eyes were almost hidden by the long lashes that matched the short coal-black curls under his ragged cap.

"Poor beast!" said No. 3, as the mule passed; "how tired he is!" For one felt one must see those dark eyes raised.

They were raised, as the boy glanced up at us with the scowl of a beautiful demon; then, suddenly changing his mind as he caught our friendly looks, a smile broke over the chiselled mouth and flooded the Italian eyes; and, in an instant, the demon became an angel. I would have given a five-franc piece to have sketched that boy, but it would have been almost as much as one's life was worth to have asked him to stand.

A little further on came an old wayfarer, ragged and infirm, leaning heavily upon his stick, and followed closely by a little sheep. When I spoke to the old fellow, the sheep paused too, and looked up in my face like a dog; and when its master held out his brown withered hand, ran up to place a warm nose lovingly within it.

The poor man who "had nothing save one little ewe lamb, which he nourished, and which lay in his bosom, and which was unto him as a daughter," is a well-known character in Corsica, where tame sheep often take the place of dogs, and are domestic favourites.

In Bastia I have seen a sheep walking leisurely down the pavement of the street, looking in at doorways and sniffing here and there quite at his ease, and quite disregarded, finally lying down in the sun to sleep upon the public pathway. And I remember one handsome sheep at Ajaccio that amused us greatly by its climbing powers.

We had strayed out upon the shore a mile or two from the town, and were sitting down to rest by the sea, when a very grand coastguardsman passed us. His real motive was evidently curiosity, but his feigned one was expressed by the telescope in his hand, carrying which he mounted a ridge of rock hard by, to gaze out upon the unbroken horizon.

The gold braid on his black and white uniform was fresh and telling; and the tame sheep which followed his every footstep was as white as snow.

When the coastguardsman paused, the little sheep paused; wherever he went upon the slippery seaweed-covered rocks dashed with spray, there followed she; and, when he was about to pass us, she stared for a moment with frightened air, and then, with a little cry, tucked herself close to her master's side until we were left behind.

Nearly all these Bonifacio people were civil and friendly, touching their caps and wishing us good evening.

Military and naval uniforms gave the streets a gay air, and the inhabitants appeared of a less solemn disposition than most Corsicans.

During the whole of our visit to the island, I never heard but one man (or boy) whistle, out of Bastia, Ajaccio, and Bonifacio; and in the villages nothing but chorus singing is heard, and that of the most dismal kind, and but rarely.

But here in Bonifacio, children, and even men, might be heard singing gay military airs about the streets.

The Hotel du Nord gave us a terrible shock. How it ever got itself christened "hotel," even in Corsica, is a mystery to me.

The little stony street which led up to it was so steep and so narrow that we and our packages had to leave the carriage at the bottom, and climb up to the broken hovel-like doorway, which a swinging board informed our astonished eyes was the "Entrance to the Hotel."

A stone step down into the darkness revealed before us a narrow, creaking, wooden staircase, up which we went wondering, preceded by the polite maÎtre d'hôtel. A door then opened on a little wooden landing, and showed a long dark room, kitchen and salle à manger in one, in which were already seated a good many Bonifacians, drinking red wine and smoking cheap tobacco.

Through this room and its astonished inmates, we were led into two little apartments, each containing a bed, one of which was screened off so as to make the larger room a sitting-room.

This was all the accommodation to be had; but a third room was promised in another house for No. 2, "when the military gentleman now occupying it should have departed," which he had promised to do before evening.

It seemed incredible that there should be no better inn at a place like Bonifacio, one of the five principal towns in the island; but so it was; though the excellent fare and unceasing care and attention of the active little landlord deserved every commendation.

This man's French was most extraordinary, and had it not been that he took such evident pride in its display, we should have informed him that his Italian was the more comprehensible; but his kindness was excessive and his charges most moderate.

He was particularly anxious to impress upon us the fact that a handsome house, now building in the main street, was his new hotel, which would be opened by next summer, so that we should have very different accommodation on our next visit.

He also insisted strongly upon the cleanliness of his house, and his knowledge of the English prejudices against creeping beasts.

"Mesdames," said he, emphatically, "pour chaque punaise que vous trauverez ce soir, vous pourrez me donner un soufflet demain matin!"

With which handsome offer he led the way to the house, a few doors lower down the street, where was the "extra apartment," making many apologies as to its present state of untidiness, which would be remedied directly.

Any place more cut-throat-looking than this room I never saw. It was a sort of long low garret at the very top of an apparently deserted house, up four or five flights of wooden stairs, and led out of another lumber garret, as bare and unfurnished as itself.

"Don't sleep here," said No. 3; "you will dream of brigands all night!"

"You will be choked with dust, and devoured by fleas," said No. 1.

"I hope they will clean it out," said No. 2, whose nerves were brigand-proof; "and I hope the house won't catch fire. But I shall sleep here."

Our polite little landlord was right as to his immunity from the worst of nocturnal horrors. But he had been wary in omitting fleas from his penalty of a box on the ear!

"Well, how did you sleep, mesdames?" he asked, as he brought us our breakfast at eight o'clock next morning.

"Very well," said two of us.

"Ah!" he replied, triumphantly, "I told you my house was clean!"

"But," said the third, quietly, "twenty-seven fleas are a good many to catch at one sitting!"

The poor man's face fell. "Ah, peste!" said he, with a vexed air; "that militaire kept three