THE LAND 0E THE MACARONI-EATERS: NAPLES 



"Maccheroni" eating is a trade with the street beggar, and apparently a satisfying one 

 to men and boys gifted with copper interiors immune to heat. One of the most familiar 

 cries of the beggar is, "Signore, dame cinque soldi, mangia maccheroni! Mister, gimme a 

 nickel for macaroni!" And usually the plea ends with a lugubrious whine, "Oh, muori di 

 fame! Oh, I'm dying of hunger." 



not it was ever the workless, painless, 

 passionless elysium where our first an- 

 cestors enjoyed all the good things of life 

 without having to toil. All this, alas, must 

 wait a more opportune moment for de- 

 scription. 



CLIMATE AND VEGETATION 



As in the case of Japan, the surround- 

 ing sea makes a vast difference in the 

 Italian climate. Judged by its position 

 alone, the peninsula should be about the 

 hottest part of Europe — it is only 90 miles 

 from the southern shore of Sicily to 

 Africa. But the twin seas and the ever 

 snow-capped mountains temper the heat, 

 and the regional peculiarities are such 

 that we find Turin, for instance, colder in 



winter than Copenhagen, and Milan as 

 warm in summer as Naples. These same 

 striking differences characterize the vege- 

 tation also. North of the Apennines 

 nothing will grow that cannot withstand 

 sharp frosts, yet in virtually the same lati- 

 tude the strip of coast called the Riviera 

 di Genova sports luxuriant palms and 

 cactus and olives, while oranges and 

 lemons are the most important of crops. 

 A large part of the beauty of the ver- 

 dure and forest that attracts the visitor's 

 attention was unknown in the olden times 

 and is not properly Italian at all, but im- 

 ported. The favored groves of orange 

 and lemon, with their golden fruit glint- 

 ing among the rich and sappy foliage, 

 breathe of the Levant and the dark- 



281 



