If any one wishes to gain a notion of the divine nectar of Olympus, let him travel on a hot June day under a Corsican sun, walking up a few of the steepest hills; and then let him apply his thirsty mouth to one of the mountain rivulet-fed fountains placed here and there along the wayside by a philanthropic government.
It is a nectar to be found only in Olympus; the valleys know it not.
And now, as we drove on up the steep ascent, we were looking down into a deep close valley where a long, low, red-roofed building, strangely isolated, marks the springs of Caldonelli, formerly much thought of for their medicinal qualities, but whose wretched accommodation and low-lying situation are now deserted for the more genteel and convenient baths of Guaguo on the heights above.
Grand rocks and richly wooded hills, the resort of the wild boar, the deer, and the moufflon, surrounded us as we mounted higher and higher, towards a cloudless sky, where, over stony heights, looked down the splendid range of Monte Rotondo's white heads, until at length we reached the summit of the Col St. Antoine, nearly five thousand feet high, with Vico at our feet, and a cool wind blowing over the heads of mountain ranges innumerable below, and from the skirts of the white-robed monarchs all around.
Just behind Vico, lying amongst its green and ilex-covered hills, rose the fine rocky range of Monte Libbio, full of queer pointed peaks, "La Sposata," the hooded wife, conspicuous amongst them.
Up the road came many a Vico proprietor, bowing to us courteously, and reining up his terrified mule on the very edge of the steep precipice with the most perfect unconcern.
The hill was terribly steep, and the turn at the bottom very sharp, but we drew up in style before Pozzo di Borgo's "Hôtel de France." The title was very grand, but the inn was neither above nor below the usual average of Corsican inns. It was not appallingly dirty; neither, on the other hand, was it agreeably clean.
A short rest during the terrible heat was necessary, and then we sallied forth to spy out the land.
Feeling the sun still too hot for walking, we sat and sketched by the roadside, finding plenty of amusement.
Up and down the road, to and from the forests, came the heavy charrettes laden with pine-wood, and drawn by sure-footed patient mules decorated with high spikes of wood on either side of the collar, and a pointed hood of leather, of Capuchin shape, between; then a flock of pretty goats, then some smiling women with laden heads, men on mule-back, and finally, a little girl, who, after regarding us with curiosity for a minute or two, ran back and presented us with her nosegay.