The entire population of the village of Christianiccia appears to consist of boys; and as we drove quickly up the stony street, pursued by scores of these yelling and hooting inhabitants, Antonio's whip was in unaccustomed requisition, and one of Mr. Lear's grasshopper pigs, the first we had seen in the county, narrowly escaped being ran over.
From Christianiccia to Evisa is an arduous mount, somewhat resembling the side of a house; but now, on the left, appears the glorious blue rock called the Capo dei Signori. On the summit of this great rocky wall once stood a castle belonging to one of the old feudal lords of Corsica; hence its name. But not a vestige of ruin is now visible upon the majestic purple peak, which seems to brave the fickle elements, looking over many an intervening mile of hill and vale to the distant sheet of western sea.
And as we turned the abrupt corner of the road to enter Evisa, other glorious blood-red rocks came in view, only half hidden by the nearer hillocks—the rocks of Porto.
The situation of Evisa is bleak and unprotected, and in winter it must be bitterly cold.
Bare rocky mountains surround it on every side, and not even a chestnut-tree relieves its wild nakedness.
Even now, a cold frosty air was blowing, and, although the sun was hot, a thick jacket was agreeable.
M. Carrara's house is still the resort of travellers. He is a polite wood-merchant, and it is supposed to be a private house; but, except for the fact that there is rather less to eat and a little more to pay than elsewhere, it is the same as other inns.
Praise, however, be given where praise is due. We could get neither butter, honey, nor soup for lunch, and the fare altogether was economic; but the young lady of the house, who condescended to wait upon us, was both pleasant to talk to and to look upon, and spotless cleanliness reigned in the little bedrooms.
As soon as we had eaten our omelette, supplied to our hungry appetites on the principle of the acute preacher, who always stopped before he had satisfied his audience, we strolled out down the road towards the rocks of Porto.
About three quarters of a mile from the village, we came to a little break in the road, where a pathway had been beaten down over the brow of the hill.