as to its character. Then, as to the vines
themselves, an interesting question has arisen
as to which species have suffered most, and in
what position. With us, near Naples, the
black grape has been damaged much more
than the white, and especially the rich and
deeply coloured grape, called here the " Alianico."
In conformity with a great law of
Nature, the old vine succumbed the soonest
—many of my older trees have died, and many
are dying, whilst the young plants are, by
comparison, looking tolerably vigorous.
Position has much affected the condition of the
vines: those which grew on high grounds—
very nearly all of them—escaped last year's
attack, whilst those in low grounds not only
have suffered the most, but have been
attacked the first. Ventilation, in fact, has
much to do with the health of the plant; yet
it is a contradictory fact, that the fruit on
the lower branches, and nearest the ground,
has invariably preserved its healthy state the
longest, and in many instances has survived
the malady. Either it found there more
shelter, and a cooler atmosphere, or it imbibed
more moisture from the soil.

The vines in " terra grassa," in a rich soil,
have suffered much more than those which
grew on a scanty and stony soil. When their
roots have had an opportunity of twining
themselves around rocks, they have
continued in a much healthier state, and have
produced some small quantity of wine.

A paper on the vine malady might
perhaps, not unreasonably, be expected to
treat of remedies; but the Italians of the
south of Italy, at least, are a 'lascia fare'
people—as fatalistic as Turks. Practically,
they throw all thought for the future on
Heaven; leave everything to their Saints, as
if it was no business of their own. Thus,
in a firm belief in Divine Providence, they find
excuses for their indolence. Tell them that
the harvest has failed: they answer, Lascia
far Dio; or hint at approaching starvation,
they lift their finger to Heaven and, with
impassable resignation, exclaim, Dio ci pensa.
Of remedies, therefore, I have nothing to say.
A priest close to me, more enterprising than
the rest, has burnt sulphur and pitch under
his trees without any perceptible good effect.
I have barked mine, and cut the roots near
the surface. I have thrown ammonia and the
refuse of stalls strongly diluted, and lime-water,
over the leaves and the fruit; yet
they fade and die; so that having exhausted
the vine pharmacopœia, I am half inclined
to become Turk or Italian myself.

Of course so great a physical change in
the vegetable world must necessarily produce
corresponding effects on agriculture, and on
the character and the habits of the people.
Already the vine can be said to have
perished from the earth. Landlords have
been planting the mulberry largely; it
brings a speedy and safe return; and. as its
history shows, is adapted to any clime or
soil. Moreover, it entails no expense in the
cultivation. Italy therefore—already a large
silk-growing country will,—in those districts
where mulberry plantations are so much more
extensively introduced, grow much more silk;
and thus, if a new art be not introduced, an
old one will be much more extended. Great
agricultural changes will be effected, too, in
seeking to find a substitute for wine. Some
have talked of introducing hops, but the
experiment in this climate would, I think, be
more than uncertain. It is more probable
that, if the malady continues, the apple and.
pear will be more widely cultivated; and
that the Neapolitan, before long, will be drinking
his bottle of cider or perry. At present,
however, there is a pause in the drinking
of the people. They are by necessity a large
Temperance Society, much against their
will, and ready to violate their pledges as
soon as ever they can get anything to drink.
Not that the Italians are an intemperate
people, although to say the truth, they often
hover about the frontiers of drunkenness,
especially on a Sunday afternoon, when, as
it is prohibited in the little place where I am
now staying, to fish or gain a supper for their
families on Saturday evenings or Sunday
mornings, they dissipate ten suppers in the
wine shop in drinking and gambling; which
latter vice is carried to a great extreme.

          SIR GRAELENT.

          A BRETON LEGEND*

* This Legend already exists in several ballads current
in Bretangne and Scandinavia. Literal translations of three
of these— from which the incidents of the present narrative
are derived—will be found in Keightley's Fairy Mythology

                       I.

          THE lady of Sir Graelent,
             That noble Breton knight,
          Hath to her lord presented
             An infant fair and white.

          Sir Graelent stands beside her,
              And speaks out cheerfully:
          "Say what thou most desirest,
               And I will bring it thee.

          " A roebuck from the forest,
               Or a fowl from the moorlands bare,
           Or fish from out the water,
               Or a bird from out the air?"

          "Dear husband, to my thinking,
              A roebuck's flesh were good,
          If thou theyself would'st hung it
              Within the gay greenwood.

          Sir Graelent took his oaken spear,
             And mounted on his steed,
          And forth into the forest glooms
             He galloped at full speed.

          And soon he saw a stately buck
             Leap out like flash of light:
          Sir Graelent followed hard and close;
             It was a breathless sight.