New Footprints in Old Places

ram. I can hear them say, "Accidente!" or a stronger swear! Some of us crowded into a double seat, the only one left, with a fat, middle-aged Italian who began to enjoy himself hugely. They are never too old for that. Miss A., intending to nip any further adventures in the bud, asked the old codger to change places with her. He was furious, and followed shrugging of shoulders, elevation of eyebrows, and mutterings! Again we crossed the Campagna and climbed the Al- ban hills covered with vineyards. The vines are trained on tripods, or looped from tree to tree in the orchards, and they look like ballet dancers holding out their skirts. ! It was All Saints' day and the piazza at Genzano was Genzano alive with people. Clustered about the fountain were drinking mules and donkeys, women filling beautiful copper jars which they carry on their heads, and people of all descriptions performing toilets. I laughed at one small boy who was being scrubbed by his madre. He Genzano howled in the tremendous voice they all have, while she rubbed his head and ears furiously. Next him a mule drank and slobbered in the water, and on the other side an old hag was trying to fill a wine bottle. Hundreds of children were rolling in the dirt. On every doorstep sat an ancient grandam holding a baby done up in swaddling clothes. We ate our lunch on the terrace of the Belvedere Ristorante, under a pergola from which the grapes hung down in purple clusters. Beyond the iro...