On entering a little hamlet at the base of the hills which rise between Policastro and Crotona, I found that a marriage had just been celebrated; and all the inhabitants of the place were making merry on the occasion. Rustic tables were spread under the shade of orange-trees; and baked meats, rice, milk, fruit, and other simple viands, were displayed in profusion. The happy peasants welcomed me joyously, and invited me to tarry for a time and partake of the general festivity. I dismounted; and was led forward by a crowd of rustics to the place of honour beside the most respected guest—the parrocchiano, a venerable and silver-haired brother of San Francesco, who had just united the young couple. After touching our glasses and tasting the wine, we stood up to observe the dancers, who were performing one of their spirited national measures, to the music of the tabor, the flute, and zampogna. The bridegroom, a stout and handsome woodman, arrayed in gala attire—a particoloured jacket, scarlet vest, and green breeches; the knees of which, like his conical hat, were gaily decorated with knots of ribbons—was dancing with his bride, little dreaming that a malignant rival scowled from the orangery close beside them. As usual, the bride was the object of greatest interest; she possessed beauty of form, delicacy of feature, and a soft Madonna-like expression of serenity and modesty which, set off by her smart Italian costume, rendered her quite bewitching. A piece of white linen was folded square on her head, and fell with a fringed edge over her shoulders, half concealing the heavy braids of ebon hair through which shone the gilt arrow, whose bulb would to-morrow be expanded. Large dark, but downcast eyes, a small rosy mouth, and dimpled chin, and a beautiful bosom, were among those charms with which the woodman’s bride was gifted—doubtless, her only dower. The old people clapped their hands; while the younger sang her praises, accompanied with the music of flutes and mandolins. The measure was the provincial tarantella; one which requires the utmost agility, the movements increasing in rapidity as the dance approaches its termination. At the moment when the music was loudest, and the joy of the dancers and revellers at its height, the sharp report of a rifle-shot, fired from the orangery, startled the joyous throng; a wild shrieking laugh was heard, and the unhappy bride fell dead at the feet of her husband! "Ahi! Madonna mia! la sposa!" burst from every tongue; then all stood for a moment mute—transfixed with horror. The woodman uttered a yell of rage and grief, and unsheathing his knife, plunged into the thicket with the aspect and fury of a tiger. Then rose shouts of anger.