"It is a castle—Castel d'Appio," said Verney; "a position taken by the Genoese in 1221 from the Lascaris, who—"
"Stop the carriage!—I must go up," said Janet.
"I assure you, Miss Trescott, that, Lascaris or no Lascaris, you will find yourself mummied in mud after this rain," said Inness. "I went up there in a dry time, and even then had to wade."
Now if there is anything which Janet especially cherishes, it is her pretty boots; so Castel d'Appio remained unvisited upon its height, in lonely majesty against the sky. The next object of interest was a square tower, standing on the side-hill not far above the road; it was not large on the ground, rather was it narrow, but it rose in the air to an imposing height. I could not imagine what its use had been: it stood too far from the sea for a lookout, and, from its shape, could hardly have been a residence; in its isolation, not a fortress. Inness said it looked like a steeple with the church blown away; and then, inspired by his own comparison, he began to chant an ancient ditty about
| "'The next thing they saw was a barn on a hill: |
| One said 'twas a barn; |
| The other said "Na-ay;" |
| And t'other 'twas a church with its steeple blown away: |
| Look—a—there!'" |
This extremely venerable ballad delighted Miss Graves in the carriage behind so that she waved her black parasol in applause. She asked if Inness could not sing "Springfield Mountain."
"There is nothing left now," I said, laughing, "but the 'Battle of the Nile.'"
Verney, who had sketched the tower early in the winter, explained that the old road to Ventimiglia passed directly through the lower story, which was built in the shape of an arch. All the carriages were now together, as we gazed at the relic.
"The road goes through?" said Miss Graves. "Probably, then, it was a toll-gate."
