"O'er his swart face he slouches the sombrero, Pistols and dagger in his belt he wears; In his old Latin tongue he hums a ballad, And onwards to its time he slowly fares. "But if far southward to the strand you wander, Where Cagliari lies, 'mid rocky bays, There, in the hamlets, chants the darker Moro, To castanet and tambourine his lays. "From Algesiras comes the Moorish pagan, His falt'ring accent tells the distant land, He shakes his tabour, dances round the fan-palm, The brown Sardinian maiden in his hand." How perceptible in Bonifazio is the vicinity of the third great Romanic nation, Spain! My room is covered with pictures about Columbus, which have long Spanish explanations, and now and then one meets a Sardinian who speaks the Catalonian dialect. Both islands—in former epochs connected, but now torn asunder—are conveniently situated for the smuggling trade. The very favourable position of Bonifazio would undoubtedly have raised it to early prosperity had trade been free. The surveillance is extremely strict, as even the bandits of both islands maintain communication with each other, although it seldom happens that Sardinians seek an asylum in the little Corsica, as it does not afford means of support. Many Corsican avengers, on the contrary, take refuge among the Sardinian hills. The police in Bonifazio are very vigilant. My pass was never asked throughout the whole of Corsica, except in the southerly-lying Sartene, and in Bonifazio. A land-owner had been my fellow-traveller from Cape Corso to Bonifazio; and as he very kindly offered me his boat, which lay at Propriano, in which to return to Bastia, and also put his house at Cape Corso at my service, I invited him to share my spacious room, which was much superior to his own miserable lodging. This man had now the honour to pass for a bandit, who, under some good pretext, was desirous to pass over to Sardinia.