304 NATHANIEL SOUTHGATE SHALER 



it brings between the town and country folk is attributable much of the 

 good relations that maintain between the wealthy and the poor. The ten- 

 antry hold the land on the metayer system, the most perfect tenant system 

 that has ever been devised. The landowner furnishes the land, the seed, 

 the beasts, and the few tools that the work requires. When the crop is gath- 

 ered he receives half in kind. The rest goes to the tiller. It is easy to see 

 that this is a true partnership, and that the vexed and vexing things that 

 come with rack-rents are avoided. If the heavens favor the crop both peasant 

 and lord share the increase. In times of bad seasons they share the hard- 

 ships. As long as a tiller is faithful to the work the proprietor has no interest 

 in change; given the inequalities that must exist between rich and poor, 

 this system is the best that can be found for lessening the hardships. We 

 see its results in the easy courtesy that rules both classes. If you speak 

 to a peasant he meets you with a smile and a bow ; no cringing, no sense 

 of difference marks your talk with him. The droll land pride of the French 

 peasant, and the cloddy quality of the English laborer, are alike absent. 

 There is an easy swing about his social contact that is hard to describe. 



Impruneta is a village of two or three thousand people gathered about a 

 fine old Tuscan church with solemn monumental outer walls and a fine 

 unbroken tower, windowless up to the bell clock. Though outwardly a 

 mean heap of masonry, the church is rich within. The town is gathered 

 about the church, and the church is gathered about a wonderful figure of 

 the Virgin. 



At Impruneta I met by appointment my guide to whom I was commended. 

 I had been assured that he was quite insane in a harmless way, but that he 

 knew the nooks and crannies of the hills for many miles about; guides are 

 rare in Italy, and except from the shepherds within range of their sheep 

 walks, it is hard to get any advice concerning the mountain paths. My guide 

 looked his reputation. He was an unkempt, fantastic old fellow who, from 

 the time I appeared around the corner of the road until I left him at sun- 

 down, poured on me a torrent of rural Tuscan that was wonderful to hear. 

 Save when I succeeded in avoiding him on some very steep hill I had no 

 respite from the deluge of his conversation. Even then the rest was brief, 

 for by those skilled in this liquid speech a cubic inch of air can be whipped 

 by the tongue into an amazing lather of sound. Despite the badgering he 

 gave me, which was the sorer because I am accustomed to walk alone, this 

 old fellow was mightily interesting. He had patched-up opinions on every- 

 thing and had a curiosity that was a devouring flame. He looked almost 

 bloodthirsty when I failed to stand and deliver an answer to his thousand 

 and one questions. It was clear that his insanity came from a violent acces- 

 sion of the philosophic desire to know. 



