"Are the relics of an earlier age: fragments of the great temple of Minerva. Reggio was once famous for its country villas; of those you behold only the ruins, which are used as a common quarry by the people; and here you will look in vain for the city, once so famed for its extent and opulence: but the sacking and burning of 1544, the convulsion of 1783, and succeeding wars and woes, have reduced it to what you now see." Though some of its streets were new and handsome, they were quiet as those of a sequestered hamlet at home: impoverished and oppressed by the invaders, their inhabitants were few, and those poor and dejected in appearance. The scenery, however, was beautiful; the winding shores, the dark waters of the Straits, the high mountains of the purest green, and the variously tinted groves of aromatic trees, all combined to render the place charming. The smooth bosom of the glassy sea vividly reflected the landscape: but we looked in vain for that wondrous phenomenon, the Fairy Morgana; who was so condescending, a few years before, as to display her coral palaces thrice to the Dominican Frà Antonio Minaci. Less favoured by the fair mermaid, we beheld neither inverted fleets, nor submarine cities; and, after a canter along the Marina, adjourned to the Café Britannica to dine. In the evening, as we sat sipping our wine at the open windows, enjoying the cool west wind from the Straits, and observing the passers-by—for the streets became a little more animated, as the men turned out to smoke their cigars and talk politics, the women to see them and promenade—a crowd beneath the balcony attracted our attention. "An improvisatore," said Castelermo, as the notes of a guitar were heard. "Shall I give him a theme!" "Certainly: but what shall it be! The Fall of Rhodez?" "You shall hear: the capture of Scylla." He drew a card from his case, wrote something on the back of it with a pencil and threw it over the balcony. In the midst of the crowd stood a young man, in the common but graceful garb of the province, with a broad scarlet ribband encircling his hat, the front of which was adorned by a loyalist cockade of the same hue. His jacket of green plush was gaily embroidered, a broad white shirt-collar was folded over it, yellow cotton breeches, a green silk sash and leather gaiters finished his attire; but there was something very jaunty, intelligent, gay, and impudent in his rosy face and _tout ensemble_. His mandolin announced him to be one of the improvisatari: wandering minstrels, or itinerant storytellers.