As soon as the doctor saw the great fly, he began to spread a plaster, and spread 6000 Spanish fly-plasters, and rolled 100,000 pills. And the 6000 fly-plasters he laid on the fly, and the 100,000 pills he gave it to swallow. Thereupon the fly became always smaller and smaller, and when it had become as small as a right fly, it died. Then took they a great bier and covered it with a snow-white cloth, and on the cloth they laid the corpse of the fly. And all the women came together and tore their hair and wept bitterly, because so proper a fly was dead; and twelve men carried the fly on the bier to the churchyard, and gave it a Christian burial. Thereafter they were delivered from the evil.—This fine legend I have related in the words of the Corsican chronicler, up to the appearance of the miracle-doctor on the scene, who is brought from Pisa, and who simply kills the fly. The rest I have added. Porto Vecchio is a little unwalled town, of about two thousand inhabitants, lying on a gulf of the same name, the last which occurs on the east coast. It is large and beautiful, and, as it lies opposite the mainland of Italy, might be made of the highest importance. The Genoese founded Porto Vecchio in order to ward off the piratical attacks of the Saracens. They granted many privileges to colonists, to induce people to settle there; but as the numerous marshes made the locality unhealthy, fever began to rage, and Porto Vecchio was three times forsaken and left desolate. Even at the present day, the whole of this large district is one of the most uncultivated and most thinly peopled in all Corsica, and is chiefly inhabited by deer and wild swine. Yet the soil is uncommonly fertile. The surrounding country is rich in olives and vines. Porto Vecchio itself is built on porphyritic rocks, which are visible on the surface. I found it almost deserted, as it was August and half of the inhabitants had fled to the hills. Northward from this beautiful gulf, the coast runs in straight lines; the mountain-chain is still visible on the left, till it recedes into the interior in the district of Salenzara, and leaves behind it those extensive plains which give to the east coast of Corsica an aspect so different from that of the west. The whole west of the island is an uninterrupted series of parallel valleys; the mountain-chains run into the sea, terminating in promontories and enclosing splendid gulfs. The east has none of this protending valley-structure; the land loses itself in flats. The west of Corsica is romantic, picturesque, grand; the east smooth, monotonous, melancholy. The eye here sweeps over leagues of level country, seeking for villages, men, life, and discovers nothing but heaths, dotted here and there with clumps of wild bushes, and covered with morasses and ponds, extending far along the shore and the land with gloom.