At the foot of the rock on which the modern town stands it is necessary to dismount from the bicycle. The houses and the churches are far above on the crest of a great billow of rock. Corté can hardly be said to stand on the side of the mountain. It does not stand; it floats. Towering above all on a slightly higher crest of granite, is the citadel, which was erected about the fifteenth century. Here and there amongst the tall houses are dotted the slender campanili which are common in most of the towns of Southern Europe. As seen in the distance, the appearance of the citadel-crowned breaker, with the smaller undulations of white and grey houses, is eminently picturesque. On closer acquaintance the most noticeable thing is dirt. In a general way it may be quite truthfully said that the more attractive a Corsican town may appear in the distance, the less comfortable it proves when you wish to stay there. [Illustration: CORTÉ, THE CITADEL.] We ascended on foot the steep and narrow streets, assailed from time to time by crowds of stone-throwing children. As we returned soft smiles for hard stones, we soon became good friends with the little ones; in fact, their friendship for us proved so strong that it became a nuisance. The moment a camera was erected all the youngsters crowded in front of it, and insisted on forming a part of the picture. In Siam, as soon as the natives see a camera they run away; in certain parts of Holland the children will allow themselves to be photographed if they are paid for it; but in Corsica everyone wants to be photographed, and the sight of a Kodak will produce a crowd at any hour of the day. To escape the troop of followers, we went into the church. While we were pretending to be solemnly gazing at the altar, the children marched in after us by the dozen and played at leap-frog over the chairs, while the breezes wafted into the sacred building odours that overpowered the incense and nearly killed the worshippers. Finding that it was quite impossible to escape the crowd, we went outside into the open air again and began to work. Our first object of attack was the Maison Gaffori, in front of which stands a statue of Gaffori, one of the many Corsican heroes who headed revolts against the Genoese. On the side of the pedestal that supports the statue there are a number of carvings, one of which recalls a story of the bravery of the General’s wife.