File:The spell of Italy (1909) (14597521738).jpg

Identifier: spellofitaly00maso (find matches)
Title: The spell of Italy
Year: 1909 (1900s)
Authors: Mason, Caroline Atwater, 1853-1939
Subjects: Italy -- Description and travel
Publisher: Boston : L. C. Page & company
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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steady,unrelenting sun up the side of the desolate valley ofthe Dragone, with the tawny ruins of Ravello top-pling just above our heads, — but, as it seemed evermore receding as we advanced, —• had interestingfeatures, but it was also something of an endurancetest. But at last we saw by a sudden influx ofspirit in our bandit driver that the goal must benear. Again the air resounded with shouts of Aie!Aie! again the whip-lash cracked over our heads,the poor exhausted horse was goaded on to onelast spurt of energy, and we rattled into a small,shaded Piazza, over which brooded in silence acrumbhng Romanesque Cathedral. On the otherside rose a curious range of low, half-fallen, stonehouse fronts, one of which bore the sign Posta-Telegrafi. R-r-ravell-1-lo! shouted the bandit, with theinimitable Italian roll of the r and liquid lingering onthe double I which turns the word to music. The first ordeal of initiation then was over! Wealighted, dismissed the bandit with a sense of relief
Text Appearing After Image:
Ravello 79 and a regalo and looked around us. Lo, a man witha sign on his cap-band, — Hotel Pension Polumbo!Into his hands we gladly entrusted our belongingsand followed him — up a stretch of steep, rocky,roughly paved cliff side between high walls, over-grown with stone crop and ivy, with here and therea tuft of vivid poppies, blooming in a cranny. It was as bewildering as Amalfi in its irrelevant,unrelated glimpses into side passages, deep arch-ways and down narrow lanes between pastel-colouredhouse fronts. But it was aU over in five minutes,for now, on a long, low stretch of pink plaster wall,embowered in clambering tea roses, we read thesign Palumbo. In a moment we had entered a cool, shaded, andtiled court of the former Bishops Palace. Vast,pear-shaped jars of water stood about, and flowersbloomed on every side mingled with tubs of dark,glossy-leaved laurel and euonymus. A gentlewomanwhose refined face seemed to possess a decidedlyEnglish cast, whose gray hair was smoothly pa

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