In the midst of their instrumental duet the two shaggy mountaineers are apt to break into a harsh nasal hymn in honour of the Virgin, to visit whose shrines at this season of the orange harvest is the main object of their Christmas migration to the Neapolitan shores. Very tastefully decorated are many of the Madonna’s little sanctuaries in or near the orange groves, when the arrival of the _zampognari_ is considered imminent. The tiny lamps are well trimmed and shine brightly, whilst heavy garlands composed of masses of bay or laurel or ilex leaves, interspersed with some of the golden clusters of the ripening fruit are suspended round the alcove that holds the figure of the Virgin. This effective but simple form of ornamentation will at once suggest the beautiful glazed and coloured terra-cotta wreaths of fruit and foliage that are to be seen so frequently in Tuscan churches; indeed, it is possible that the members of the Della Robbia family may have originally borrowed the decorative schemes for their famous plaques and lunettes from the rustic shrines thus simply but tastefully embellished. Nominally, the two performers are supposed to sing and make music on nine different days at the houses of all their patrons in order to make up the total number of the _novena_, but the extent of their performances is generally calculated in accordance with the depth of the householder’s purse, the sum given for their services varying from a few _soldi_ to a five _lire_ note. All classes of society employ the zampognari, for it is with the first appearance of the lovely golden fruit, essentially _the_ winter fruit of the Italians, that the arrival of these picturesque strangers has been associated from time immemorial. The _zampognari_ are in fact as much of a national institution with the Neapolitans at Christmastide as are the waits or carol-singers in our own country, so that to the majority of these people _Natale senza zampogna e cennamella_ would seem no true Christmas at all.