139 
1847. THE CULTIVATOR. 
AGRICULTURE AND RURAL ECONOMY OF EUROPE. 
RURAL NOTICES ABROAD— By Catos.—No. IV. 
Italian Agriculture Continued.—As one goes 
north from Rome, through the Papal territory, he finds 
gradual improvement in cultivation. The huge old 
houses which he at first passes in crossing the Campag¬ 
na, have a ruinous and deserted aspect. The stables 
are Open; the cattle-vard neglected, and all its fertili¬ 
zing materials lost. Immense deposits of manure in the 
neighborhood of the great inns upon the route, are rot¬ 
ting in the sun; the fence that was once built about the 
garden is broken down; cattle and pigs are in the road, 
or house, or stable, as pleases them best; and perhaps 
a sickly looking patch of grain is waving upon a knoll 
near by, with two or three ragged and begging boys to 
guard it. As the Campagna rises into hills toward the 
north, the fields have more care; olive orchards are set 
upon the slopes, and patches of clover and lucerne ap¬ 
pear. The vine, too, now shows itself, and at first 
growing stragglingly from the trees, it is trimmed far¬ 
ther on with neatness. The villages that are situated 
in the valleys of the mountain range, are abundantly sup¬ 
plied from the hill-sides around them; and the occasional 
plains, of a higher level than the Campagna, such as 
that about the old town of Terni, in the neighborhood 
of the famous falls of that name, are both rich and well 
cultivated, This valley of Terni, watered by the Veli- 
no, produces three full crops'of grass in a year. The 
mulberry is grown extensively, and there are considera¬ 
ble silk manufactories in the town; it may be, indeed, 
that the reader is wearing this moment a black cravat, 
woven in that old Papal town, from cocoons spun with¬ 
in sound of the roar of the waterfall,—by worms fed on 
leaves that have glistened with the spray that there 
mounts the skies— • 
-“ and thence again 
Returns in an unceasing shoWer, which round, 
With its unemptied cloud of.:gentle rain, 
Is an eternal April to the ground, 
Making it all one emerald :”—Childe Harold. Bes. of Terni. 
Passing farther north, the sides of the mountains are 
wooded with Chestnut, not unlike our tree of the name, 
and the Ilex, or live oak, which never approaches in 
Italy the size of the same tree in our Southern forests. 
The deciduous oak also shows itself here and there, and 
near the city of Spoleto is a famous grove of immense 
sized trees, one of which is said to be not less than fifty 
feet in circumference. The fields, where uncultivated, 
are tufted with a beautiful blooming heath, with white 
blossom, and white downy stalk. The flowers gene¬ 
rally of the Appenines, are varied and beautiful; among 
others, is one not unlike our fragrant orcus. 
The valley of Clitumnus, to which I have before re¬ 
ferred, is distinguished for its beauty and fertility. Its 
river, the Clitumno, bursts forth in a body from the base 
of a limestone mountain, and is clear and cold. I drank 
from one of its many bubbling fountains, on a hot day of 
April, (17th,) stretched upon the green turf. The 
beauty of the water is proverbial;— 
“ the most living chrystal that was e’er 
The haunt of river nymph,— 
thou dost rear 
Thy grassy banks whereon the milk white steer 
Grazes.”- 
And they are there yet—all through the valley, under 
the spreading elm trees, and standing beside the tall 
poplars, those most beautiful cattle of Europe. The 
Herbage is no where richer, or more luxuriant; it was 
celebrated in the Georgies,* and by Horace. The maize 
is seen in this valley growing abundantly, and the vine 
is thrifty, though the wine made from it is by no means 
famous. Around Perugia, which sits like a queen upon 
its hill, the plains are even better cultivated than in the 
lower valley of Clitumnus. The vines are more closely 
trimmed, and the ends are curiously braided together. 
The plows are far better than southward, and the white 
oxen work well under the yoke. The carts are as good 
almost as Scotch carts, and all fertilizing materials are 
carefully preserved. Rye I saw flourishing and fully 
headed in early April; and the peculiar clover of the 
region in blossom. Its leaf is similar to that of our spe¬ 
cies, but the flower is a deep crimson, spiral shaped, and 
sometimes two inches in length. And these bright 
crimson tassels, when waving over a broad field, offer 
one of the richest sights that can pieet the agricultural 
eye in Italy. The working people seemed to me better 
dressed in the neighborhood of Perugia, than in the other 
Papal regions, and in the immediate vicinity of the city, 
are sweet little valleys, so richly cultivated, and so set 
off with quiet looking homes, that one might half be¬ 
lieve himselflooking upon an English landscape. 
“ Reedy Thrasimene ” is a beautiful lake, lying near 
the borders of the Papal and Tuscan dominions. Its 
banks are flat and sedgy, and a proposition is now on 
foot to drain its upper shores for cultivation. Judging 
from what now appears of the fertility around, the cost 
would be richly repaid. The olive produces large crops 
upon the slopes of the hills, and its trimming is nice and 
peculiar. Every portion of decayed wood is most care¬ 
fully cut away, and one frequently sees a mere shell of 
a trunk, from which all decayed substance has been re¬ 
moved by scraping, putting out thrifty boughs, laden 
with the largest and finest fruit. For those unacquaint¬ 
ed with the tree, I may say its general size is between 
the peach and the apple- tree, though less graceful in 
appearance than either. Its leaves are oval, of the 
color of the sage leaf, and with the same velvety sur¬ 
face. 
Amid olive orchards, and upon the borders of Thrasi¬ 
mene, the road winds, and crosses the-brook San- 
guinetto, famous from Hannibal’s battle, and enters 
the dominions of the Grand Duke of Tuscany. The 
Duke is a better farmer than was the old Pope: the 
roads, too, are better as one rides into Tuscany. The 
peasantry are better dressed, and with their neat Tus¬ 
can hats, have a cheerful and picturesque air. The 
vines are neatly dressed and trimmed, and hang in 
braids or festoons from the trees. Wheat and rye is 
waving beneath, and rich fields of clover, full grown, 
are nodding crimson heads, and their leaves are glitter¬ 
ing with rain drops. 
But such cultivation belongs only to the richer valleys; 
winding up long hills, on which grow clumps of ilex and 
chestnut, and over heafhs untilled, the fertility vanishes. 
And perhaps the great inn where you stop for the night, 
has only about it a poor cabbage garden. 
I stopped at such an inn, at dark, in an April night, 
and the reader, if he chooses, may look into the kitchen 
of an Italian inn. It is long and low, and the roof is 
heavily timbered, and blackened with smoke. Hams 
are dangling here and there from the beams. About 
the sides, are the various implements of cooking, and a 
cupboard of their rude dishes. The heavy old fireplace, 
has a little blaze glimmering in front. In the middle 
* Ilinc albi, Clitumne > gregtee, &c. 
