The Italians set great store by a little bit of bella
pianura, or level ground; to them it is as precious as a hill or
rock is to a Londoner out for a holiday.
The peasantry are as
blind to the beauties of rough unmanageable land as Peter Bell was
to those of the primrose with a yellow brim (I quote from memory).
The people complain of the climate of Dalpe, the snow not going off
before the end of March or beginning of April. No climate, they
say, should be colder than that of Faido; barley, however, and
potatoes do very well at Dalpe, and nothing can exceed the hay
crops. A good deal of the hay is sent down to Faido on men's backs
or rather on their heads, for the road is impracticable even for
sledges. It is astonishing what a weight the men will bear upon
their heads, and the rate at which they will come down while
loaded. An average load is four hundredweight. The man is hardly
visible beneath his burden, which looks like a good big part of an
ordinary English haystack. With this weight on his head he will go
down rough places almost at a run and never miss his footing. The
men generally carry the hay down in threes and fours together for
company. They look distressed, as well they may: every muscle is
strained, and it is easy to see that their powers are being taxed
to their utmost limit; it is better not even to say good-day to
them when they are thus loaded; they have enough to attend to just
then; nevertheless, as soon as they have deposited their load at
Faido they will go up to Dalpe again or Calpiognia, or wherever it
may be, for another, and bring it down without resting.
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