SHEEP. 89 



hundreds to earn a wretched pittance by the harvest 

 work, toil from early dawn to sunset, and then lie down 

 for the night on the bare cold ground. Then rises from 

 the infected ground the clinging white mist, which 

 has death in its bosom : the fires lighted about the 

 sleeping places are insufficient to scatter it, and the 

 poor mountaineers are thinly clad. Within a week 

 the most sickly drop ; the marsh fever has infected 

 the majority of the others before the reaping is 

 concluded, and it attacks almost all the survivors on 

 their way home. More than one half of those who 

 thus come down from the highlands die in the plain, 

 or soon after their return. Those who escape look 

 at their starving children and prepare to go down 

 again the succeeding year. During this horrible 

 scene, the Campagna has scarcely any other inhabi- 

 tants than the reapers, except a few of the hardier 

 animals, with their herdsmen, who, left in the pesti- 

 lential flats to attend their summer pastures, ride 

 over them with long pikes, and wrapped in sheepskin 

 cloaks. These men die in their first year, or after 

 the seasoning fever become inured to the climate, 

 which has imprinted its ghastly mark upon them for 

 life." 



This is exactly what occurred last season to a 

 portion of my flock. From stress of room I had 

 been obliged to part it and send some to a low-lying 

 portion, drained three years since, but adjoined by 

 marshy ground. Luckily, I sent the worst; they 

 were not there many nights. It was on a wheat 

 stubble. One evening I saw them enveloped by a 

 white mist. The next day, at some inconvenience, 



