the taste of the wearer; and, to crown all, a
long black or red cap.

The militia of Gallura, when they went
to meet the late King of Sardinia, wore dark
capotes, red velvet waistcoats, white drawers,
and black gaiters; each was armed with
bright-barrelled guns, and mounted on a
little, fiery, active horse of Arab descent. The
Sardes are famous horsemen and lovers of
horses. The female costume varies according
to the province, but is always in the same rich
parti-coloured style. A loosely fitting gown of
a bright-coloured coarse cloth, a bodice of the
same material, and a coloured kerchief thrown
over the head, is the dress of the peasant women
of Alghero. At Porto Torres they wear a
yellow bodice trimmed with black velvet,
fitting tightly to the figure, the front being
open; a white handkerchief covers the bosom;
the petticoat is of coarse red cloth; the head-
dress a coloured handkerchief dropped
negligently on the shoulders and neck. At Tempio,
we find a scarlet, blue, or green velvet jacket,
with a border of a different colour on the
edges; an upper petticoat of a dark cloth,
with a bright-coloured border ten or twelve
inches deep, and an under petticoat of cloth
of a different colour and quality, both very
full, with countless plaiting at the waist,
worn outside the jacket, and falling over the
hips with great elegance. When the fair
Tempiese goes out, she raises the outer petticoat
from behind, and brings it over the head
with a peculiar knack, which gives it a form
somewhat resembling the Maltese hood.
Altogether it is one of the most picturesque
costumes of the island. A head-dress is
sometimes of a gaily-coloured silk kerchief, tied
into three knots triangularly, one of the knots
fitting into the nape of the neck, and the
other two into the forehead. They have
something of a rosette form, but are so
arranged as to show the borders and fringe with
a most graceful negligence.

The Gallurese women handle the gun as
well as the distaff, join in shooting matches,
and take part in the vendetta, of which we
shall presently speak.

The Sardes are almost all born poets,
after a kind; it is calculated that one in
sixty-nine can improvise where only one in
thirty-eight can read; for, to improvise, the
art of reading is no more needful than to
Welsh bards or Highland pipers of ancient
time. This facility of improvisation renders
possible a most singular kind of feast or frolic,
to use a very suitable American phrase.

Sheep constitute the chief wealth of the
district of Galltira, of which Tempio is the
centre. When the wife or daughter of a
flock-owner has a quantity of wool to be
plucked or combed ready for the distaff, she
invites all the girls of the neighbourhood to
come and help her, and all the bachelors to
help them, as well as a few friends to look
on. For the entertainment of the company
she provides vases of flowers, a supply of
bonbons, and rosoglio, with music for
dancing when the work is done. An ounce
of bonbons is considered a fair return
for one hundred pounds of wool. These
Tempiese girls, according to Mr. Tyndale,
are uncommonly handsome; we
must imagine the effect of twenty or thirty
of these gentle zitelle, cross-legged on the
floor in their picturesque costumes, with
each a bundle of wool before her and a
lover lolling at her side, all chattering and
almost drowning the sharp notes of an
indefatigable guitar. Suddenly a cavalier
commences his song, accompanying himself on
the guitar. He improvises a tale of
love, addressed to one of the fair wool-
pickers; from time to time murmurs of
"Bene, bene!" show that his talent is
approved. He ceases his tale of love, and
presents a flower to the heroine of his song.
She, slightly blushing, places it in her bosom,
not without a certain air of triumph; and,
after a slight hesitation, asks one of her
friends to answer for her. In a whispered
conversation he learns the state of her heart,
whether the answer is to be cool or jealous,
and dictates to her line by line the answer
which she sings. Amid the audience all the
passions of youth and love are displayed––
satisfied vanity, envy, rivalry,–– poets anxious
to sing, beauties panting to be sung.

We are indebted to Mr. Tyndale's enormous
warehouse of Sardinian curiosities for specimens
of these songs, taken down at a genuine-
graminatoggin or wool-plucking. Their
immense length enables us to give only a few
verses from a literal translation.

                 THE LOVER.

       Humbly, discreetly, and prudently,
       With true devotion,
       This flower is presented to you,
       That to you alone it may give
       The real intention
       And sentiment of love.
       Continually anxious,
       My beauteous Eva, to meet you
      And tell and confide to you
      This real passion.
       If, therefore, you are sincere,
      As it is believed you are,
      Try to pronounce this evening
      The desired decision,
       Be it of life or death.
      Oh, be not cruel
      To your lover, who is stedfast !
And so on for a hundred lines.
                              THE ANSWER.
       If the flower has so great a wish
      To know what it does not know,
       I will endeavour
       To answer its message,
       And to tell him that I have been.
       Open and sincere to all;
       Tell him it is my intention
       To wish him well and love him
       As one truly devoted to him,
       And that this smile is