The Hungry City (Chrysalide) (Italian Edition)

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The beauty of the lower portion of the Fiume di Latte is now quite obliterated. It is curious that neither of the Plinies, both of whom took so much interest in the physicial peculiarities of the lake, mentions this phenomenon. He says that the water rises in spring, when the ice and snow begin to melt upon the mountains, and ceases to flow in winter, when all is frozen up. He might have added, that the volume is extremely sensitive to every fall of rain.

He describes the stream as gushing from an aperture in the rock, resem- bling a large window, and lashed into foam so white as to give it the name which it bears, " The Torrent of Milk. The shepherds of the district, he relates, accounted for the supply of the stream by the hypothesis of a vast hollow, resembling a huge amphitheatre, with the mountains for its walls, into which, as into a cup, the melting snows of spring were drained, and filtering through the porous soil into subterranean reservoirs, fed the torrent in question by a constant overflow.

He assigns peculiar properties to the water, which he makes out to be cold enough to keep dead fish fresh for three days. Live fish, however, though quite recently caught, quickly die in it, when it is low. The usual plan of " doing it " is to steam up to Bellagio or Cadenabbia, visit the Villas Carlotta and Melzi, buy a ] iece of olive wood or a silk dress, and then steam down again en route for Milan, Venice or Rome. I once saw two men " do it " from the cabin of the steamer. Thej were working so hard at their sightseeing, that this was their sole chance of snatching a meal; so they ate their dinner onboard, and between the mouthfuls plunged to the cabin windows to see what they might of the Lake of Como.

But the Queen of Lakes refuses to be so seen. She must be wooed, waited upon, known, to reveal her charms. There is no greater delight than to walk the entire circuit of the lake. What mistaken judgments may be formed, when they are based upon superficial knowledge, is illustrated by a remark of Mr.

Thomas Erskine's in his letters in , when the population on the Lake of Como was little less than it is now, and the communication by road or path between place and place almost as complete. There is not even a mule road on either side! And on one side the steepness of the rocks does not admit even of a footpath the whole way, or even for a considerable way. Many of them yield a wealth of pleasure and surprise to the lover of scenery, the artist, the botanist, the entomologist, and the geologist.

The great tongue of land which lies between the Como and Lecco arms of the lake is rich in romantic scenery of the highest order. Of high ascents there are enough to reward the efforts of experienced mountaineers. Monte Grona is an interesting expedition, especially in winter. Monte Generoso cannot be seen from the lake, but is one of the mountain excursions that may be made from it, by a good road and on horseback, and is unsurpassed in the magnificence of its views. For those who are unequal to long expeditions there are rambles of great beauty and little exertion upon the lower slopes contiguous to the lake.

There is na sweeter or more effective setting for a picture than the delicate silver grey foliage of the olive. The most generous freedom is granted by the tillers of the soil to those who use their fields and gardens for pleasure grounds. A copper or two makes us welcome to a feast of fat figs. He is seen watching us at a distance in statuesque stillness, or starts up behind us like some Elijah, we cannot tell whence or how. He climbs the fig tree like a squirrel, and picks for us the most luscious fruit, which is only eaten to perfection when fresh gathered.

Figs in proper condition are a wholesome fruit ; otherwise, they are dangerous, and to be avoided like poison. Shun them for a day or two after rainy or sunless weather, and in selecting them recall the axiom of Marcus Aurelius: Courtesy to these contadini receives not only courtesy, but devotion in return. A climb of a few yards more lands us in smooth pastures, green lawns under spreading chestnut trees, with still more extensive landscapes. We are surprised to find wide spaces stretching out between us and the mountains, which from below seem so imminent.

For these easy but enchanting rambles the lower slopes of Monte Crocione behind Cadenabbia have no rival, unless it be the spur of Monte Codeno to the east of Yarenna. Of driving there is practically none, but the cheap, safe, and comfortable boating provides a far more delightful alternative. The boatmen are courteous and obliging, their boats clean and luxurious, but a plain understanding as to charges is desirable. They are singularly weatherwise, and will avoid exposing their passengers to the danger of those sudden squalls to which the lake is liable.

Any deviation from this rule is a sure sign of change. However fresh the Breva may blow, the native scorns the idea of its being wind. It is never more than the harmless, welcome Breva, a friend who may be implicitly trusted. Wind, on the contrary, is a malignant demon. The boating eiScursions are numberless. If you simply let your boatmen row you at will, you can drink in the most ravishing delight on every side. N'ow you float on the wide expanse of the glowing water, and embrace the whole wondrous vision of the Lake at a glance, the girdle of the dreamy peaks, precipice and forest, purple ravine and wooded headland, crag and castle, white villages and grace- ful bell-towers.

Should it be the hour of sunset, you may see a glory which would move the sternest spirit. You have seen, or you will see, the robes and wings of Angelico's angels. Their colours were no fancy of his own. His reverent eye marked those in which God steeped, for a brief five minutes in a day, cloud, mountain, air ; and these he thought the most fitting hues in which to dye the garments of God's incarnate messengers.

You may see them all around you in the flames that blaze upon the crest of the Grigna, in the rose that blooms across the heavens, in the shades of amethyst that lie so tenderly upon the distant mountains, in the sapphire and the gold that burn upon the level lake, in the mist of violet that slowly veils them all. Each slowly uttered cadence pauses, as though listening for the answer from some distant tower.

No hindering walls check the full tide of the vibrations, since the bells hang almost as much outside the belfry windows as within. It is a daily confession of the Christian Faith. At midday it is the same. Many a peasant raises his thoughts for a moment from sordid cares or hard labour, and realizes that there is an unseen world. We pause by great masses of crimson creeper, festooning rock and wall, climbing over the grey olives or streaming in bleeding rivers down the dark green sides of majestic cypresses ; or we round a little headland, crowned with the cactus and aloe, and trailing the long weepers of its willows in the wave.

Perhaps we reach the sunny island of Co- macina or San Giovanni, row round it to see some of the choicest views npon the lake, and sketch the picturesque old tower t of S. Maria Maddalena di Stabio upon the main- land. Then we may cross to the little grotto opposite the Villa Arconati on the Lavedo promontory, roofed with maidenhair fern, and in its weird effects of light and colour see a miniature of the famous cave at Capri, then saunter home by the rock-bound eastern shore, Grosgalli.

Then we may explore the neglected beauties of the Lecco arm. To skirt the southern shore as far as Onno, cross to Lierna and coast up to Varenna, forms a memorable expe- rience. Or we may seek the cool Bay of Menaggio, float under the grim precipice of the Sasso Rancio, picnic in the smiling gardens of Graeta near its foot, and drift along, as time permits, by rock and castle, ravines spanned by airy bridges, and shores laden with the wealth of corn, and wine, and silk.

Ample sport can be had with the fly under the rocks during the day, but a merrier game is found in choosing a dark night, attracting large fish by means of fire suspended at the prow of the boat, and spearing them as their curiosity brings them to the surface. A bad shot sometimes ends in a cool bath. It has not, however, been my fortune, nor that of anyone I have known, to hook, net, or spear a specimen of those royal fish which P.

Giovio ascribes to the Lake of Como. Moret wonderful and exciting still, he tells of great caves in the rocky coast between San Griovanni and Lezzeno Grosgallia Saxa , where in the heat of summer great monsters hurhuri jpisces , as big as a man, might be descried cooling themselves in the glassy depths ; so strong that no net could hold them, and armed with a coat of mail gravique squamarum serie tlioracati which no arrow could pierce.

But possibly in three hundred and fifty years these species have become extinct, and P. Giovio would not be too scrupulous when he had undertaken to prove the excellence of the fish of his own lake above all others. His assurance that in his hrocliure upon the Lake of Como, no heed has been paid to hearsay nihil est trihutum fabulis , must be taken cum grano salis. The more sentimental will give the palm to the moon- light jpasseggiata al hatello or promenade au bateau, especi- ally should some fair nightingale choose to sing upon the lake that evening, or the world-famous violincellist, Signer Piatti, open the doors of his villa and wail forth his pathetic music to the panting stars.

Pragrant flowers launch their odours on the balmy air. The boat rocks to the liquid ripple. Voice or viol floats out its soul to the infinite silence. A spell lies upon each sense. The thoughts that are too deep for words begin to stir. And then suddenly a strident tongue from a gliding barque breaks the stillness ; — " Waal, I guess this is real slow. Why don't somebody boss a dance at the Bellevue, just to take the creases out of one's knees? Giovio, when he wrote his Descriptio Larii LacuSy to which re- peated reference will have to be made.

He followed the coast line, visiting each point of interest and covering a distance of one hundred and twenty miles in six days sexto die complefo universce navigationis cursu, qui per oram centum et viginti millihus passuuin conficitur. Nowadays, a small steamer may be hired at Como, which will achieve the same feat in twelve hours, but not with the same results of repose, observation and enjoyment.

The vicinity of the Lake of Como is rich in shells. Jefferies, the eminent English conchologist, was engaged in investigating the mollusca of this region shortly before his death. But there is no need to be a scientific shell- hunter in order to enjoy the beauty and variety of these treasures, scattered so lavishly all around, and often carry- ing us in their quest into spots of untrodden seclusion and luxuriant loveliness.

The region is as rich in floraf as in shells, and the botanist will happily find the most prolific fields of his research among the noblest scenery of the district, as e. We begin with the conventional round.

Bestselling Series

Our boat glides alongside the marble steps of Villa Carlotta, embosomed in a little paradise of tropical luxuriance. Several treasures of modern sculpture are found in the entrance-hall, beyond which there is little of interest.

The hungry city

The chief work is a frieze by Thorwaldsen, begun at the command of Napoleon I. The frieze, which por- trays the Triumph of Alexander of Macedon, makes the entire circuit of this large apartment, but its details are im- perfectly seen, for want of better light. The central figure is the youthful conqueror, who heads the victorious proces- sion in a chariot swiftly driven by the Groddess of Victory. His mien bespeaks the pride of conquest, but a touch of ennui is thrown into the expression, as befits the man who wept because there were no more fields for his warlike ambition to reap.

The other half of the frieze depicts the conqueror's welcome home. The Grenius of Peace meets him with an olive branch and horn of plenty. The people, headed by his own family, strew flowers or offer gifts. Balconies are crowded with eager spectators. A final panel shows the development of commerce through successful war.

The many groups in this work deserve much longer study than is usually given to them. The two figures bringing up the rear of the pro- cession, on the left hand as we face the door, are said to be portraits of the artist and his patron. Canova's Psyche and Cupid is a more popular subject, since it appeals to humanity at large. While few sympa- thize deeply with the ambition of Alexander, most of us know how the birth of passion transfigures life. There is an exquisite abandon about Pysche, who is lost in her beauti- ful lover. We almost hear her say, " I would die a hundred times rather than be deprived of thy sweet usage.

Psyche, so the old story goes, was a royal child, so lovely that men saw in her an incarnation of divine beauty, and began to desert the shrine of Venus to lay their offerings at the feet of this new goddess?. But Venus could brook no rival, and forthwith summoning her " winged bold boy of evil ways," she pointed out the maiden, and bade him make her the slave of an unworthy love. But he came only in the darkness of the night, and went again before the break of dawn, so that Psyche knew not the face of him she had learnt to love, and of whose sweet usage she could not bear to be deprived.

ISTor had she hope of seeing him, since he warned her that if ever in an evil hour curiosity mastered her, so that she espied his bodily form, she would feel his embrace no more. But the course of true love never ran smooth, and now came her jealous sisters, who contrived to work upon poor Psyche's feelings and credulity, until she believed herself the victim of a dread monster in her unseen lover, whom she resolved to slay.

But when, with lamp in one hand and knife in the other, she nerved herself for the fatal blow, the vision that met her eye disarmed her purpose, for there lay Cupid, golden-locked and dewy-pinioned, all soft and white and lovely. Then Pysche, catching sight of his bow and arrows, drew out a dart, and trying the temper of its point upon her thumb, drove in the barb, and so fell into the love of Love; and in her rapture a "drop of scalding oil fell from her lamp upon her lover's shoulder, who awoke, and seeing the failure of her faith, took flight and left her.

And now began many sorrows for Psyche, the bitter penalty of doubt and curiosity. Venus learnt the amour of her boy, and though Juno and Ceres received her overtures for help in the quest of Psyche coldly and with some spite- ful taunts, yet from Jupiter she obtained the use of Mercury, the god of speech, who soon tracked out for her the object of her persecution. With insults and hardships, many and cruel, did Venus ply her daughter-in-law, to whose help came in turn the ant, and the reed, and the eagle, and the very stones of the walls, all for the sake of Love.

And opening the casket on her way, that she might touch herself with some particle of the precious gift, to enhance her own fair beauty in the eyes of her truant lover and win him back again, she fell into a deadly sleep, until Cupid found her, and by the touch of his arrow awoke her once more to life. Then Cupid, who had grown lovesick for his sweet bride, sought his father's sympathy; and Jupiter granted his son's desire, and bade Mercury bring Psyche to the court of Heaven, and there he gave her a draught of the immortal wine, saying, " Take it and live for ever ; nor shall Cupid ever depart from thee.

On the first couch lay the bridegroom, and Psyche in his bosom. His rustic serving boy bore the wine to Jupiter ; and Bacchus to the rest. The seasons crimsoned all things with their roses. Apollo sang to the lyre, while little Pan prattled on his reeds, and Venus sweetly danced to the soft music. Thus, with due rites, did Psyche pass into the power of Cupid ; and from them was born the daughter, whom men call Voluptas Pleasure.

The romance of Appuleius, and its illustration by Canova's chisel, do not lose in interest, if it be true that they are the ultimate evolution of the germ of a solar myth, born in the far East, in times too remote for fancy, among the Aryan ancestry of Europe. It is the drama of sunrise and sunset played before our eyes every day.

It is the story of Eos Dawn or Evening and Phoibos the Sun , who are fated to part in the moment when they first look upon each other; yet after the day-long quest of Eos through all lands, among all dangers, against overwhelming difficulties, sustained by the deathless desire to see her lover once again, at eventide her faithful search is rewarded, and she is found face to face with the bright object of her devo- tion.

She has sunk upon her knees, her face is full of desolate sorrow, her marble hands and arms are made to utter the physical weakness of grief, her whole attitude is eloquent of pain and penitence ; loss, loneliness and love. In the centre of the room is a group of Mars and Yenus, by Acquisti, It may tell more tales than one. Certainly the woman pleads and the man stands irresolute.

Perhaps he is caught between the rival claims of love and duty. Perhaps she would win him from the savage passion of war to the softer arts of peace. Anyhow her power is evident. She can inspire, restrain, unman. In an adjacent room are some designs in plaster for Napoleon's projected Arch of Triumph at Milan. They are singular trophies of the fickleness of fortune, as we shall presently see. This villa has passed to the Diike of Saxe-Meiningen ; but the little chapel outside, under the broad-leaved plane- trees near the water's edge, still belongs to the Sommariva family.

Over the altar is a fine Pieta in white marble. The lifeless form sometimes lies across the mother's knees, sometimes stands erect as a half-length figure. A beautiful Nativity in relief decorates the front of the altar. The angles of the chapel contain figures representing Charity, a gracious woman tending an orphan child; Jus- tice, bearing sword and scales; Religion, carrying a cross and wearing a glory about the head ; The Love of God, a beautiful being, with footsteps guided by the Divine Will, wings for swiftness to perform it, and an upturned face of intense devotion.

Opposite the altar are the Angel of Bless- ing, holding a shell of Holy Water, and the Angel of Resurrection, whose face is bright and calm with trustful hope. More angels float upon the ceiling ; in their hands are the signs of the Redeemer's Passion, scourge, thorns, hand- kerchief of S.

Veronica, nails, sponge, hyssop and spear. There is a monument to Count Sommariva by Marchesi. The angel of death leads him away, but in departing the father counsels his son to take to his bosom the arts which have enriched his own life. The arts are represented by a fair woman, who holds a sculptor's mallet in her hand. Taking leave of the little chapel, we walk a few paces to Casa Cornelia, Tremezzo, where every one is sure of a cour- teous welcome in the studio of Mr. Happy they who carry off one of his bits of imprisoned sunshine!

Re-embarking, we cross to the Villa Melzi. A portrait of the Emperor in his thirty-third year, by Appiani, hangs in one of the rooms. The face is strikingly handsome, and wears a look of deep abstraction. In strange contrast is a bust of Michael Angelo by himself. There is a great charm in the frescoed walls of the rooms. In one, groups of children play their various games. In another, we seem to be embowered in the depths of a forest. In a third, the eye is met by every flower that the gardens of the Villa produce.

In a fourth, we are transported to Parnassus and have Muses for company. In the chapel is a very unconventional statue of Christ, by CornoUi. He is portrayed as a young man in meditation, embracing a cross with his right arm. A fresco on the right wall has a portrait of Leonardo da Yinci teaching his pupil, Francesco Melzi, the art of designing, while another shows Leonardo on his death-bed, in the act of bequeathing his studio to Francesco.

A beautiful friendship bound to- gether the old Leonardo and the young Francesco. The Melzi family had a lovely villa at Vaprio, to which the great master often fled from Milan for congenial repose, or to escape the inconvenience of a French occupation. Francesco's fortunes were so linked with Leonardo's that he accompanied him into France, when, in , the old artist accepted the invitation of Francis to settle at Amboise. Three years later it was the pupil's sad duty to announce his master's death to the King.

Francesco was appointed executor of Leonardo's will, and in writing to the Da Vinci family on the subject he says: It may best be studied from a cool pagoda, of which the doorway so exactly frames in the piece of statuary as to help us to concentrate our thought upon the subject. The artist has contrived to throw into his work the feeling that the genius of Dante was quickened, inspired, and con- trolled by a lofty and pure ideal of womanhood. Quitting these lovely grounds, we stroll to Bellagio, beneath a shady avenue of planes, and pass the palatial Hotel Grande Bretagne, unrivalled for its magnificent dining- hall and luxurions salon and admirable management, under Herr Meier.

Then we buy fruit under the arcades, silk at Poletti's, photographs at Bosetti's, olive-wood at Gilardoni's, change money at Greppi's, call at the old established Hotel Genazzini to see upon its terrace the record of the inunda- tions of the lake for a century past, visit the old parish church with its sloping floor and Lombard apse, stroll in the gardens of the sumptuous Grand Hotel, and then climb by the quaint, irregular stairways, which serve for streets, to the extensive grounds of the Villa Serbelloni, which is now a descendance of the Hotel Grande Bretagne.

Giovio unhesitatingly assumes that this promontory of Bellagio was the site of that Villa which Pliny called " Tragedy," because it was elevated upon lofty rocks, like the high shoes of a tragic actor. Certainly it is true that this point answers to Pliny's description of an outlook upon the lake, stretching out on either hand into two wide seas. At a glance we comprehend the derivation of the name Bellagio from its situation, Bi-lacus, between two lakes.

In the fourteenth century this headland was not clothed by a wealth of trees, as at present, but was crowned by a fortress, notorious for the shelter which it had long given to the regenades of all the country round. The Marquis Stanga, however, a prime favourite of Ludovico Sforza, got permission to build a princely mansion on the southern slope of the hill, but it was burnt down by the pirates of the lake soon after its completion.

These marauders were the Cavargnoni, a clan which got their name from the Val Cavargna in the Val Menaggio, and were distinguished, according to P. Giovio, in his Lettere Lariane, recounts an amusing adventure which befell the natural philosopher, Lazzaro Spallanzani, in , when in the company of some friends he made an excursion into the Val Menaggio. Here he fell in with some young girls, who no sooner saw a man surrounded by a group of comrades than they fired off a volley of pistol-shots.

The familiar signal brought the Cavargnoni to the scene of action, armed to the teeth. For a moment the poor philosopher thought that the end had come to his researches ; but when the gentlemen of the valley discovered the peaceful and scientific equipment of the intruders, not not only was a free passage accorded, but every hospitality shown to them. The sortie was due to the impression that the revenue officers were making a descent upon the neigh- bourhood to claim the salt tax. Upon the site of Stanga's mansion an inferior house was built towards the end of the sixteenth century by Ercole Sfondrate, who had commanded the Papal forces in France against Henry of Navarre.

It was he who planted the pro- montory with its groves of trees, retiring to their peaceful shade for the close of his days. Giovio wrote his JDescriptio Larii Lacus. To what tune his pen was gilded for the work we have no means of judging, but from the deli- cate flatteries offered to his patron's wealth, discrimination and intellect, and our knowledge of the writer's principles, we may feel sure that Paolo was well paid.

Dionysio Somentio tells a pretty story of the publication of this famous pamphlet, in his preface to the first edition, dated He had gone to the Lake of Como to investigate a case of murder for his patron, Nicolo Sfondrate, and found himself enchanted by the unimagined beauty of its shores.

Upon his return, having recounted to his patron the pleasure he had experienced, Nicolo expressed a wish to combine for him a repetition of the enjoyment with immunity from the fatigue of another journey, by conjuring up then and there before his eyes the very scenes he had just left behind ; and therewith begged him to fetch from the library P. Giovio's little work, in which he so graphically describes the lake as to make every feature of it live before the reader. It was Somentio's first introduction to the book, and he at once conceived the idea of publishing it for the delectation of mankind and the glory of his patron.

From the Sfondrati the property passed into the famous Milanese family of the Serbelloni, second to none for the soldiers and statesmen whom it has given to its country. Near the top of the headland is a narrow perch on the edge of precipitous rocks, to which local tradition attaches a grim story. In the castle, which formerly stood close by, a woman once ruled, who set no bounds to her amours, and had her intrigues with all the gallants of the Lake.

But her pas- sions were surpassed by her jealousy, so that even when weary of her lovers she could brook no transfer of their affections elsewhere. Accordingly she had her whilom favourites dropped from this giddy ledge into the oubliette of the Lake below. The steamer bears us along the shore of the bright, luxuriant Tremezzina, or district of Tremezzo, which so well merits its name of " The Garden of Lombardy. Ambrose, we notice an inscription upon the wall within the little port, which runs thus: Hie Larius lingebat Oct, 6.

Larius is the ancient name of the Lake of Como. Cato, in his Ori fines, derives the name from an Etruscan word meaning "chief," or "of first importance," since in the earliest times this lake ranked first among Italian waters. Giovio, " was a great authority on all antiquarian subjects. Merito, ergo, Como nomen accepit, quae tantis Icetatur compta munerihus.

But philology was not the strong point of the ancients, and the derivation of Como from compta is inadmissible. Giovio is right when he derives the name from the Greek word KWfir] Kome , a small town. At a very early period those universal colonizers, the Greeks, settled in every part of Italy, and here, as elsewhere, accord- ing to Cornelius Alexander, This original Greek town of Como was destroyed by the Rhaetians, after it had been for many years occupied by a Roman colony, a piece of history recorded in the name Coloniola, a suburb of the present city.

The depopulated country was recolonized successively by Pompeius Strabo, C. Scipio and Julius Caesar, and hence there sprang up on the site of the ruined Como anew city, which received the name of Novum Comum, or New Como. Travellers studious of economy would do well to take second-class tickets on the steamers. They are half the price of first-class fare ; the forepart of the boat affords far better views, supplies more air, and avoids the smoke from the funnel. True, one loses the awning which is stretched over the after-deck ; but an Italian sunshade, white, green, or red, costing four or five francs at Bellagio, will serve our purpose as well or better.

Well, you will find yourself among the peasantry. But, have you not come to see Italy and the Italians? The opportunity is brief. There is nothing novel about the people under the awning. Them, or their fac-similes, you may meet, every day, at home. There is much to be learnt on board these steamers about the simple, good-natured, polite, Italian folk. Now we meet an Improvisatore, who twangs his guitar, and chants his flowing recitatives. His audience is his subject. His eye is keen and his wit versatile. He pays a compliment here, reddens a cheek there, touches a tender memory in someone else, welcomes the foreigner gracefully, rallies a friend with- out mercy, provokes in turn the laugh, the sigh, the tear.

Then there is the group of acrobats, with music drawn out of a goatskin, and limbs as supple, and motions as graceful, as those of tlie wild deer. They breakfast off a crust, and seem to deem it luxury. Or we see the bird-seller, with bundles of gay-plumaged denizens of the mountains, ranging in size from the wren to the grouse.

In our walks we find scores of snares made of a willow-twig and a noose of string, and baited with a bunch of scarlet berries. These are deadly bird-traps. A most fatal method of bird-catchino- is the roccolo, which may be seen upon scores of knolls round the lake. It con- sists of a circular trellis work about twenty yards in diameter, covered with green creepers, and planted inside with trees so as to form a cool, attractive bower. Small cages of decoy birds of many sorts are hung among the branches. The circle is enclosed at the sides by an extremely fine silken net, very loosely suspended between two other nets with large diamond-shaped mesh, drawn very.

ISTo sooner does he see a few birds settling upon the trees inside, than with a loud cry he throws the falchetto into the middle of the bower. The birds, mistaking it for a hawk, scatter in all directions, and flying low to avoid it, are inextricably caught in the fine net, which is forced through one of the large meshes of the outer net, and closing round its victim like a pocket, holds it faster the more it struggles. As many as two hundred are sometimes caught in a day in one roccolo, so that the total destruction must be enormous.

Sometimes a very cruel plan is adopted. A long wire is carried from the tower to the vicinity of the trees. To this several lateral threads are attached, to the ends of which little birds are tied by the leg. The string is then pulled so as to make the wretched captives flutter and attract the passing birds. Nature starts with a fair balance of forces, but the equi- librium is disturbed by the excessive destruction of birds. Their thinned ranks are not equal to the task of keeping down the teeming insect life, hostile to the fruits of the earth. It is amusing to watch the vendor in his efforts to palm off stale goods as " caught this morning," or to inflate prices by keeping out of sight his reserve stock.

But, if he can sell well, his compatriots can buy well, too. The secret of making a good bargain is to be amiable, polite and com- plimentary. Remonstrate with the bird catcher for the indiscriminate and wholesale slaughter of his prey, and he laughingly replies, "Ah! But the poor man has only a piece of bread: But the worst is reached when those hands are rigidly extended, and the knuckles, convulsively shaking, are held defiantly within an inch of one another's noses.

The storm subsides as rapidly as it arose. Then there are cassocked priests, who wear broad- brimmed beavers, and are devoted to snuff. They are mostly of the peasant class, with the advantage of a training at an ecclesiastical College, to which they were sent at an early age. They earn peasants' pay, and are often a bright light in their parishes. It would be hard to find more exemplary clergymen than the peasant priests of some of the parishes on the Lake of Como.

If it be one of the Hours of the Church, these good fathers will fall to saying the proper office, let them be where they may. One of the most impressive sights I ever saw was that of an aged Bishop and his Chaplain, saying antiphonally, the Psalms, at the Hour of Ave Maria, in a railway carriage. Moreover, it is the time of the Conscription, and the poor lads drink too much in order to drown their trouble. They stand in circles with their arms round each other's necks, and bawl out patriotic songs about Italy and war.

But the enthusiasm is artificial. The system is detested. The army is a very hard service in Italy, and so, no wonder, that those who draw a low number are sometimes seen sobbing like girls. The State needs a draft of, say, thirty from a district. All must go who draw up to that number, nor are the next ten safe, as any failures among the thirty will have to be supplied from the higher decade, and, sometimes, the Minister of "War requires a few more recruits than he ex- pected.

One of the novel sights to be seen from the deck of the steamer in the autumn is a large vat full of grapes, on the beach, in which are half-a-dozen little boys treading out the juice. They are naked, and as like to Correggio's Putti as possible. They shout and laugh and sing, as they dance in the great tub, washing one another's faces with the rich, purple liquor, and playing off all kinds of mischievous tricks. If we wish to see someone " treading the wine-press alone," we must go into the outhouse of a wineshop ashore, where we shall find a strong, patient, bare-legged man, pounding away at the great clusters in a barrel which he just seems to fit.

As he takes the grapes from the crate in which they are packed, and drops them into his tub, his feet catch them, like hands, and crush out the foaming juice in a quite artistic way. People often profess to feel great disgust at this use of feet, but it needs only a little reflection to convince us how much more cleanly they are for the purpose than hands.

Machinery is inadmissible, since the crushing of the grape seed must spoil the wine, and no mechanical contrivance has yet been found of sufficient delicacy for the purpose. There is nothing more beautiful on Como than the view which meets the eye as the boat bears us from the steamer to the beach at Spurano or Isola. We seem to have found a new lake, which compresses into the compass of a glance all the wealth of beauty elsewhere scattered over wider fields. The sheet of water, glowing with reflected colour, is some- times supposed to be the Euripus, of which Pliny the Younger writes in one of his letters.

The chief ground for the hypothesis is, that at Lenno, not far away, but on the other side of the promontory of Balbianello or Lavedo, remains of a villa are visible at the bottom of the Lake, when the water is low, which might have been one of Pliny's. The situation answers, to some extent, to the description of his villa, which he humourously called " Comedy," while the promontory of Bellagio would serve well for the site of the sister residence, which he designated " Tragedy.

One planted on rocks, after the fashion of Baise, overlooks the Lake. The other, no less after the fashion of Baiae, touches it. So I am in the habit of calling the former Tragedy, the latter Comedy ; that, because it is lifted, as you may say, on the tragic shoe, while this rests only on the comic slipper. Each has its charm. This one enjoys a nearer, that a wider prospect of the lake. This embraces one bay of gentle sweep ; that commands two from its perch on a lofty ridge.

There, a straight walk stretches above the beach in a long vista ; here, a broad terrace gently slopes towards the shore. That one feels no waves ; this one breaks them. From that you may look down upon the fishermen below ; while from this you may yourself fish, and throw the hook from your bedroom,, and almost from your very bed, just as from a little boat. The passsge from whicli Pliny is supposed by some to allnde to the Zocca del Olio, the Bay of Oil, or olive-fringed strait between Comacina and the mainland, is so descriptive of many villas to-day that it may be read with interest.

How is the charm- ing villa, the vernal portico, the shady avenue of planes ; the strait, green and jewelled ; the lake stretching below to await your orders ; the promenade so soft and firm ; the sunny bath ; the rooms for the many and for the few ; the chambers for mid-day siesta and midnight sleep? Some half a mile in length, and three hundred yards wide in its broadest part, tenanted but by one family in the ruins of an ancient chapel, and without any complete building, except the little Church of San Giovanni, in which a rough inscription records the year of its desolation, this islet has played a part in history quite out of proportion to its size.

As its name implies, it is the one island of the Lake of Como. In early writings of the Christian era the adjective comadnus is used to describe what belongs to the city, state or lake of Como. Some- times the alternative word cumanus is employed. At the present time the island is best known locally by the name of San Giovanni or S.

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John the Baptist, from the little charch dedicated to that Saint upon its olive-clad ridge. Giovanni lures back our thoughts to the strange story of the Lombards and their invasion of Italy, so full of start- ling romance and picturesque incident. We find ourselves midway in the sixth century.

The Emperor Justin reigns at Constantinople. His court is honeycombed by intrigue. Narses, a eunuch, has reconquered Italy for the Empire. A general of consummate skill and bravery, he has done what his predecessor Belisarius was recalled for not doing. His suc- cessor, Teja, is defeated. Their power lies in ruins, but the avarice of N'arses has raised up enemies for him. Threats of revolt lead to his recall. The Empress Sophia adds in- sult to injury: ISTarses will find them ready for him upon his return. Wounded to the quick, he swears that he will spin a thread which all her skill will not avail to mnravel.

He plans a sweet and ample revenge. Retiring to Naples, he makes overtures to the Lombards, a powerful German nation, to invade and occupy Italy, describing the country in glowing terms likely to excite the cupidity of those Northern warriors. They came, those men of enormous stature, long- bearded and loosely clad, with blue eyes looking out from under a yellow shock of hair, fierce, brave, passionate, licentious, striking hard and gripping fast ; they came, and the wrongs of Narses were expiated by the loss of Italy to the Empire.

The Italians yielded almost without resistance, partly from the panic inspired by the warlike fame of the invaders, partly from the feeling that no change of masters could be for the worse. In five months after leaving his native Pannonia Alboin was at the gates of Milan. Pavia, which alone defied him, became his capital.

The Lombard monarchy was elective, and after the tragic death of Alboin, devised for him by his wife, Rosamund, in revenge for an act of drunken brutality in compelling her to drink wine out of a cup formed from her father's skull Clepho became king. But he was speedily assassinated, and the power fell into the hands of thirty dukes, each ruling in his own city. For ten unhappy years this state of things lasted, until Childepert, King of the Franks, took advan- tage of the inevitable discord to invade Italy.

In the face of this danger Autaris was elected king, a. Antaris was victorious over the invaders, and not only so, but he pushed his conquest of Italy to the south of Calabria, where he rode his horse into the waves of the Mediterra- nean, and touching the column which stood upon the shore with his spear, claimed it as the perpetual boundary of his domain. This was the Isola Comacina, nestling under the olive- fringed shores of the Lake of Como, and so sequestered as to be almost forgotten in the din and strife of war.

Twenty years before, when Alboin and his army overran Italy, Francioni or Francillioni, an Italian general, probably the governor of Como, retired to this secluded island, which he strongly fortified and maintained as the one vestige in the north of Italy of that Imperial Power which had been swept away, at the invitation of Narses, by the flood of barbarian invasion.

Many cities, says Deacon Paul, the chronicler of that period, deposited their treasures here to save them from the hands of the conquerors, in the faint hope that before long the tide of affairs might turn. Refugees flocked to this safe retreat. The years continued to be reckoned by the names of consuls, and the sentiment of allegiance to the inaccessible Emperor at Constantinople was still loyally fostered. The two following inscriptions found at Lenno, of the years and a.

Hie requiescit in pace b. Cyprianus qui vixit in hoc. Sere rests in peace Cyprian, of blessed memory, who lived in this century thirty -three years, more or less, buried 25th Sept. Under such circumstances the island, with its singular fidelity to the old regime, must have been a dangerous nest of disaffection, and a standing menace to the new power. There seems to be some reason for believing that Francioni erected a stronghold on the site of the castle of Fuentes to command the Yaltelline and protect the many fugitives who sought shelter in its retirement.

That as it may, in the process of consolidating his con- quests, Autaris was unable to tolerate this perpetual sore in the side of his kingdom, and accordingly took measures to reduce the island. Beset by a numerous fleet of boats, which continually brought reinforcements to the assault I from a large army on the shore, this Gibraltar of the Lake held out against the besiegers for six months, and then capitulated through sheer stress of famine. Ravenna, whicli was still a city of the Empire. The vast treasures accnnnilated on the island fell into the hands of the victors. By far the most important guests to share the hospitality of the island in the time of Francioni were the Magistri Comacini, who took refuge here from the indiscriminating sweep of Alboin's sword.

Yillani says that in those days, "male and female, great and small, were either masters or journeymen maestri o manovali.

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In the extant laws of King Rotharis, who married Theodelinda's daughter, reigned from to a. They are afterwards described as Casari or Casarii, house-builders. So these refugees were either architects or the master workmen of all the trades affiliated to architecture. When the first force of the Lombard storm had spent itself, these valuable citizens emerged from their retreat, the importance of their services was duly recognized, special enactments were made for their protection, and freedom and privileges were conferred upon them by their Lombard masters.

The Laws of Rotharis constitute their guild under the name of Freemasons, give powers to the Magistri or Masters not granted to the assistants, and carefully provide for the safeguarding of their interests. It was not, however, until the country became more settled, under the wise influ- ence of Theodelinda, that building was possible. She gave a new impulse to the art by employing the Magistri Coma- cini to erect her cathedral at Monza, together with other works, of which scarcely any vestige has survived to our time.

Augustine on his mission to England. Specimens of their work are supposed to exist in the churches of SS. Fedele, Abbondio and Giacomo at Como, S. Carpoforo at Camerlata, the Baptistery at Lenno, S. Maria del Tiglio at Gravedona, the parish church of S. Fedele in the Val Intelvi, the apse of S. Giacomo at Bellagio, S. Pietro di Civate in the Brianza, S. Benedetto above the Madonna del Soccorso, and the remains on the Isola Comacina. The island gains quite a new and reverent interest when we can regard it as the saviour of those men, who alone at that time could keep alive the old traditions of art under the killing blight of barbarism.

For such indeed was the case, since whatever specimens of architecture are pointed out to us in Italy as Lombard must be attributed to the preservation of these workmen from death at the hands of the Lombards. As the Lombards gave a name to the Italy which they found, but did not create, just so far are they responsible for the architecture, which existed at the time of their invasion, gradually developed during the two hundred years of their rule, and afterwards became what we see it in some of the splendid churches of north Italy. Let us glance backwards.

The architecture which the Goths found in Italy in the fifth century was classical Roman much debased. Among its features were round-headed arches, vaulted roofs, attenu- ated pilasters, and minute ornamentation. Not for seven centuries after the fall of the Gothic power was that style of mediaeval architecture perfectly evolved, which is com- monly known by the misnomer of Gothic.

It was undoubt- edly a development of the old Roman, such as the Goths found and left in Italy, but with the growth of which they had little or nothing to do. Early in the sixth century Euclesius, Bishop of Ravenna, paid a visit to Constantinople, and fired by the sight of the splendours of the church of S. Yitale, in his own city, after the Byzantine style, a. Here, then, for the first time, Byzantine and Roman architecture met face to face, with the result that they gradually became blended, and formed a third great order, which may be called Romanesque, Romano-Byzantine or Comacine.

They were an army, not a nation, rather occupying Italy as a subjugated province than settling in it and permanently amalgamating with its native population. Such a people came to rule and not to work. Their con- quered subjects would build for them, when building was needed. They could neither read nor write. Their laws were handed down by memory and custom, and when codi- fied, were written in the language of the conquered race. If they made an idol to represent the Deity, they merely rough-hewed the trunk of a tree. It is improbable that such a people originated a style of architecture.

At the same time we can readily understand how they influenced the progress of the art, as they found it in the hands of Italian architects and builders. It may be, as Mr. Ruskin assumes, t that certain features of their wooden churches in Pannonia, for some of the Lombards had embraced Arian Christianity, became petrified, as it were, under Italian influence. What they had done in timber now got itself done in stone.

This may be the true account, as Mr. Ruskin thinks it is, of the vaulting-shaft as seen in S. Ambrogio at Milan, and of the clustered columns which are a characteristic of the so-called Lombard architecture. Thus might arise what Fergusson in his History of Architecture calls the mania for stone- vaulted roofs, of which, nevertheless, he says, the architects of Lombardy never succeeded in becoming masters.

Still more probable is it that we owe to the influence of the conquerors "the endless imagery of active life and fantastic superstition " which is seen upon wall, capital and frieze of Lombard buildings, and in the earliest churches bears a singular resemblance to the figures found upon northern monuments of a remote period.

But with regard to this, too, Mr. The belts which encompass the Assyrian Bulls in the British Museum are the same as the belts of the ornaments found in Scandinavian tumuli ; their method of ornamentation is the same as that of the Grate of Mycenae, and of the Lombard pulpit of S. Ambrogio at Milan, and of the church of Theotocos at Constantinople: It was a phase in the transitional process from old Roman to the style which culminated in the so-called Gothic of the thirteenth century.

It would save much confusion to remember that when we speak of Lombard Architecture we do not mean a style of which the Lombards were the authors, li architecture Lombarde, says M. The term is misleading, unless we are understood to imply the Italian style prevalent at the time of the Lombard invasion, in vogue with the Magistri Comaci7ii when they took refuge from Alboin in the fastness of Comacina, developed in Lom- bardy in the course of centuries, and forming a branch of that great family of Grothic or mediaeval architecture which sprang from the Roman germ.

It is uncertain whether any complete building of a date earlier than the ninth century still remains. Pietro di Civate has strong claims to this antiquity, as also S. Maria del Tiglio at Gravedona. The features which characterize the style of the Lombard occupation are stone vaultings, grouped shafts, added vaulting shafts, round-arched windows, narrow and deep-set cornice arches, ornament of bricks set cornerwise, attenuated pilasters, running from ground to roof outside, an open gallery nnder the external eaves of the roof instead of cornice, stone surfaces carved with quaint symbolism and columns de- corated with interlacing circles, forming a close pattern of trellis work.

The Lombard buildings near the Lake of Como are mostly small and very simple, but conceived in a style of dignity and beaaty which makes them always impressive. In Milan and Pavia they assume magnificent proportions. At the southernmost end of the island of St. John stands the remnant of a small church. It is now turned into a peasant's house and cattle stall. Within the cowhouse the courses of black and white marble which line the apse are in excellent preservation. A fragment of marble of irregular shape is built into the outer wall, bearing a rudely-cut Latin inscription, a petrified sob of a forlorn heart, which links the mourners of to-day with those of the pagan world eighteen centuries ago.

The rough tablet is dedicated Dis Ma7iibus, " to the Deities of the dead," and commemorates " the wife most dear," conjugi carissimcG, of some one with an outlandish provincial name. The pilasters consist of courses of stone, alternated at considerable intervals with a thin brick of red terra-cotta. Anyone who will take the trouble to examine the island carefully will find traces of walls, buttresses, and arches ample enough to corroborate the tradition of its ancient strength and importance.

After the days of Erancioni the island became the asylum of many illustrious fugitives. It acquired the name of Christopolis, or City of Christ, not because of Christians who fled there for protection in times of persecution, of which there is no proof ; but because, like the Christ himself, it became, in the Providence of God, a refuge for all who were otherwise lost and hopeless. Thus, Gaidulfo, Duke of Ber- gamo, in rebellion again Agilulf, second husband of Theo- delinda, for a time found safety here. Cunipert, in the same seclusion, laid plans for the recovery of his throne from the usurper Alachi.

It may be remembered that Ansprand, after gi'eat vicissitudes, won the kingdom, for Liutprand, the greatest of the Lombard kings, a. A romantic incident of the tenth century, and of great political moment, is linked with the island. Berengarius, Lord of Ivrea, had made himself master of Italy. He wished to strengthen his cause by the alliance of his own son with Adelaide of Savoy, daughter of one dethroned king and daughter-in-law of another. Upon her refusal, he imprisoned her in a dungeon, the locality of which is variously given by different authorities to Como, Dongo, Mello in the Yaltel- line, and Gar da, on the lake of that name.

She escaped by the aid of one Martin, a priest, and her fellow-prisoner, who after hiding her for some time in a marsh brought her into the presence of Otho, King of Germany, at Canossa. He married her at Pavia, was saluted King, and so for the first time united the crowns of Germany and Italy, an incident fraught with vast issues to the world. A son of Berengarius took refuge within the walls of Comacina, but the men of the lake, headed by the Bishop of the diocese, compelled him to surrender, and dismantled the castle.

There is an extant charter of Otho's, granted at Como, A. Probably the term Isola comprised a considerable district on the mainland. Before the invention of artillery, the rocky shores, strengthened by fortifications, would merit the name of the Gibraltar of the Lake, given to the island in modern times. Though not impregnable, it was never captured without heavy loss to the assailants. We learn the importance of the place in the Middle Ages from the prominence given to it in the chronicle of the ten years' war between Como and Milan. The islanders threw in their lot with the Milanese, and proved a sad thorn in the side of Como.

But in A. Not, however, until forty years after the close of this war did the people of Como wreak their full vengeance upon the islanders for the part they had played in it. In , aided by the Pievesi, they took the island, after a long and desperate siege, burnt its houses, de- molished its defences and drove out its inhabitants, who went to swell the population of Yarenna or to found the village of Isola on the mainland near.

In the chapel of S. Giovanni the rude record of this event runs as follows: One ; — of which the chief points are that a. In the Epic poem which describes this war, the bitter hatred of Como towards the island is expressed in the following: In alternate years they represented the birth of the Baptist and his martyrdom in a series of tableaux vivants, which were exhibited on the shore, while a gaily caparisoned boat was rapidly rowed backwards and forwards in imitation of the swift galley Scorrohiessa, so famons in the ten years' war.

This is now superseded by a procession of clergy in a large boat decked with flags and resounding with music, while the Zocca d'Olio is alive with craft, carrying eager crowds to the festival, the fair, and the fun. Eufemia at Isola, on the mainland, a marble slab of extraordinary interest is found upon the wall of one of the transepts.

Until recently this slab formed the table of the High Altar in S. It is still possible to decipher the following inscription upon its surface: Her unusual birth gives her the ability to speak with animals, but unfortunately not with anyone else. Her family manages to escape the island before a terrible spell takes hold and keeps them prisoner there for ever, but Acqua Dolce remains mute and struggles to adapt to life away from the island, away from her animal friends, and out of the water. The key to her future andalso to her past may lie in a mysterious half-moon necklace and in the memories of an ancient fisherman.

But Acqua Dolce must be brave enough to unlock the mystery first. The book itself - based on this loveable but unusual main character whose differences are presented more humorously than tragically - is a return to classic children's storytelling in endearingly clean and simple language. The embedded morality and addressing of recognisable issues - like diversity, tolerance, acceptance, and trust - will capture the interest and engage the intellect also of older readers and their parents.

All will laugh at the slapstick humour and identify with the voyage through the emotions of growing up, as well as holding their breath at the faster-paced adventure sequences before ending on a note of optimism as we learn how Acqua Dolce triumphs over adversity and makes a dream come true. The author was born in Milan where he spent his childhood playing outside in the park and riding his bike, often imagining it was a horse.

Before becoming a primary school teacher, he worked as a waiter, babysitter, taxi driver, clown, street artist, musician, scriptwriter and acrobat. He jumps for joy when he's happy, sings out loud when he pedals round Rome and every now and then, still likes to imagine his bike is a racehorse. His second book, Magica Amicizia won third prize in the Bancerellino Award. He has just released a third book: Il Pianeta Senza Baci. Indonesian and English bilingual This book is retold based on a folktale from South Kalimantan. The story has a similarity to the well-known European folktale: Ampak was a young man who lived in a village.

He became a king because of a cunning civet cat who stole the citrus fruit from his tree. Ampak had been working so hard to plant and nurture his citrus tree. When everybody in the village grew rice, he chose to plant the citrus tree. Every day he nurtured his tree and each day he counted the fruit. But one day, one of the citrus fruit was missing. And when night came, he pretended to fall asleep but watched his tree carefully. It was the civet cat who stole his fruit!

Soon, both of them made a deal that Ampak would not kill the civet cat and in return the civet cat would make him a king. For this Ampak had to give another up three citrus fruit. The civet cat continued to trick everyone and to guard the citrus tree. She dreams of being adopted, but her notions of the perfect adoptive mother do not include the female gorilla who turns up at the home one autumn day.

Gorilla is fat and hairy, wears hideous clothes, and drives a rusting wreck. When Gorilla heats up water for a bath, Jonna imagines she is about to be cooked for dinner. She is embarrassed by Gorilla's uncouth appearance and blithe unawareness of social convention. Jonna and Gorilla make an unbeatable team when it comes to selling junk at inflated prices, though Gorilla's ultimate dream is to become a bookseller. The two acquire an ancient caravan, practise driving and shock the locals on an outing to a restaurant.

But new trouble is on its way. The chairman of the local council, the evil Tord Fjordmark, is determined to force Gorilla out of her home so the authority can build a lucrative swimming complex on her land. He threatens to remove Jonna, blackmails Gorilla into signing away her home, then sends Jonna back to the orphanage anyway. Yet all is not lost. Despite her initial fears of abandonment, Jonna realises Gorilla is waiting for her not far away.

Unlikely though the premise of this story may sound, it is absorbing, moving and very funny. Jonna is a clear-sighted, sometimes painfully honest narrator who sees straight through selfish, mean or pretentious adults. Frida Nilsson writes with an irreverent, sometimes surreal humour which will delight not only six-to-nine-year-olds, but their parents too.

The tale of Jonna and Gorilla is highly entertaining - but it also raises important questions about how much store we set by outward appearance, and what really matters in our relationships with others. The theme of feeling like an outsider, and being treated like one, recurs throughout The Ape Star and other books by Frida Nilsson, including Jag, Dante och miljonerna Me, Dante and the Millions , in which a disgraced bank manager is befriended by Dante, a rat living on a rubbish tip; and Jagger, Jagger, which revolves around the friendship between a boy bullied by his peers and Jagger, a stray dog.

It was serialised in the German Sunday broadsheet Die Zeit in and nominated for the prestigious Jugendliteraturpreis Youth Literature Prize in Sam Colam and Pico Pane penetrated the darkest forests, ate the most disgusting things, risked being devoured by wild beasts, skinned by savages, they listened to old tales for hours, without ever falling asleep. And they brought back this exceptional document Come fuziona la maestra Come fuziona la maestra How Teachers Work Text Susanna Mattiangeli, ills Chiara Carrer Il Castoro, Picture Book "The teacher has a front side, which is what you usually see, and a back side, which you see when she turns around.

Underneath her is the floor, or gravel, or the road. Around the teacher are the children, sometimes in a line, sometimes in a circle, standing up or sitting down. There are long teachers and short teachers. Wide ones or thin ones. I giorni della Ruota Eligio S. The Days of Wheel Eligio S. Here, little Rosapineta gets to know and falls in love with Eligio, who was left by his mother shortly after his birth.

With this novel the author confirms his narrative skills by weaving a highly detailed story that will intrigue even the most attentive reader, but which will also appeal to a wider audience thanks to its far-reaching and deeply involving sentimental elements. Readers are engaged in strong feelings right from the first page, when the two young protagonists are introduced and immediately evoke strong feelings. Another extremely interesting element is the representation of Venice, which culminates in the historically-true collapse of the bell tower of San Marco.

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Hotel House is a crossroads of languages, cultures and children. Each one has its habits, its beliefs, its popular beliefs, its differences. Hotel House in Porto Recanati is just one example of how these long and twisted cohabitations continue to coexist and resist in spite of our fears. The Shadows of Hemlock Valley Helka is an exciting, intricately woven adventure story replete with classic fairytale elements. It features a feisty modern heroine, a cruel power hungry witch, fantastic creatures, riddles and folk-lore, and deals with issues of hurt and loss, the desire for revenge and the power of friendship.

What makes it unusual is its location in a concrete geographical area in Hungary: This is a landscape that is dear to the hearts of all Hungarians, but that few English speakers are familiar with. It is painted vividly and fondly. It is not long before the machinations of the witch Bora and her allies, Horka the raven and Thuz the wild boar threaten to stir up the old passions. Kamor provides support through a magical diary that provides cryptic answers to their questions.

The threads of narrative are brought together in a dramatic denouement in which bravery, loyalty and unity triumph over greed and vengeance. After all, children read with their hearts, and want an adventure they can enter into, and live through. Born in to a very humble family in Laguna, a poor village in the south of Brazil, after the death of her father Anita is forced to marry an older man whom she does not love and who mistreats her.

But a woman who can tame wild horses and shoot better than most men is not born to put up with the bullying of a drunken husband. When Giuseppe Garibaldi, the pirata, arrives in the village four years later to fight against the injustices of the Brazilian government and to win independence and better living conditions, she falls madly in love with him. The love is mutual and they flee together. So she, too, becomes a rebel, determined to combat and risk her life with the farrapos, the down and outs, who want freedom and self-determination.

But it is not her fate to remain in Brazil. In , after living and fighting with Garibaldi in Uruguay, she leaves for Italy with him and their children. While Garibaldi fights, she is forced to stay behind with her mother-in-law in Nice to take care of the children. And so she dies, together with many friends, while attempting to escape from five pursuing armies along with the man she has always loved and a handful of other companions.

Though pregnant with their fifth child, she is still able to lead a fruitless last-ditch cavalry charge. For her capacity to fight like a warrior and to love totally and passionately, Anita has come down to us as the heroine of two worlds: Picture Book Recommended age: Nevertheless, he was constantly searching for the frightening monster. In fact he was so obsessed with his quest that he travelled to Scotland and China and to many other places in search of stories and legends about dragons.

Undeterred the courageous knight goes in search of this fierce creature ready to fight it and live up to his reputation. When he finally meets the dragon he discovers that things are not as bad as he originally thought and that the dragon has not got a tail to stamp on at all! This is a delightful tale by Italian author Guia Risari. She is a prolific writer, who as well as writing books for children and a series of academic titles is also a translator.

For more information on the author go to http: For information on the illustration go to http: She spends peaceful, lazy days in the company of her new friend Pepsi, walking along the banks of the stream together and thinking up ways to make a love match between their respective grandparents each of whom has lost their spouse. But actually, the Pudding Monster has horrifying powers: The large young woman looks dangerously like the Pudding Monster.

One day, after quarreling with Pepsi, Annalisa angrily gobbles down a strawberry pudding and then is convinced she has eaten her friend. All the more so because the boy seems to have suddenly disappeared into thin air. Did she really, unintentionally devour Pepsi? Il ricordo che non avevo Il ricordo che non avevo The memory I Never Had Alberto Melis Modadori, The memory I never had tells the story of Mattia and Angela, two eleven-year olds living in Rome, who find themselves at the centre of a mystery with its roots in the distant past of the Second World War and the mass exterminations of the Nazi regime.

Before he is taken to hospital, where he slips into a deep coma, Nonno Gabriel saves a small boy named Kino from the flames, who is also seriously wounded. Mattia, shocked by what has happened, has many questions. What on earth was his grandfather doing in that place at the time of the attack? How long had he been visiting the Roma? How did he come to speak their language Romanes?

And, most perplexing of all, why, on the morning of the attack, before leaving the house, did he leave Mattia a mysterious and incomprehensible message? From that moment, the novel intertwines two parallel worlds: And at the same time, they learn about a tragedy that rarely appears in the history books: As a child, in his hometown of Lodz, Nonno Gabriel assisted in the deportation of 5, Austrian Lovara Roma people who were imprisoned in ghettos together with the Jews, and exterminated in the Chelmno concentration camp.

In particular, in his memoirs, Nonno Gabriel tells the story of a Roma boy named Nanok, from the moment he is captured by the Nazis with his community, until his escape from the ghetto, after the death of all his loved ones. Nanok, after his escape from the ghetto, was taken in by a Polish family who hid him from the Nazis, gave him a new name, and, at the end of the war, adopted him. Sixty years later, Nonno Gabriel, after a lifetime hiding his gypsy origins, feels the call of his roots: At the end of the novel, Nonno Gabriel dies, without ever having regained consciousness.

It is Mattia, in whose veins the Roma blood also runs, who must protect his memories, and the memories of all the unacceptable things that befell the Roma during the Second World War. The author has created three new versions to the question and readers are invited to participate by creating their own. Readers can choose any one of the endings, more attractive to them, or create new endings.

The goat thinks that he is going to eat him. The wise bear however explains that he is vegetarian! The goat rejoices and starts singing. The shepherd and his watchdog, who think that the goat is in trouble and needs help, rush over and hit the bear. So he went to the jungle, caught the goats, the rams and even the camels, who made up the funny stories about the stupid bears and through generations , and carried them away to a place far away from jungle.

He disguised himself as a wounded bear and started to play the role of the stupid bear in a public play. After a while, people believed that those funny stories were not real, but just for fun. Ok, what is your guess? What Happens to the wise bear? He grew up in a big family with lots of exciting stories. Working as a as a journalist, he wrote critical essays and did research in children literature. As a child, he decided to become an artist and spent most of his time reading and drawing.

After finishing school, he continued in the field of Graphic Design, in he got his M. He has illustrated many books for children and young adults and has won many national and international awards. He lives and works in Tehran; in addition to illustration he is also a distinguished graphic artist with works displayed in numerous exhibitions and museums. And what if that tail sings crazy songs in Russian?

What would you do? Call the fire brigade? Ask the baker for advice? They all come to the rescue and decide to pull off the tail believing that this will solve the problem. But, alas, tails are rather unpredictable! Mad with excitement, the singing tail drags this odd bunch of adults around and around in a circle that leaves everyone happier and a bit wiser too. Pietro Corvo the clockmaker, a real master of his trade but afflicted by severe ugliness, takes on Giacomo, a new apprentice, an orphan educated at the Auberge of Virtue. At first, Giacomo fears the ugly master, and plans to flee.

But he soon realizes that Corvo is a man with a very good character, and a greatly respected craftsman.

The nobleman, widowed with a daughter, a freethinker, and curiosity collector has a wunderkammer in which he keeps all kinds of different objects, from books to handcrafts, including a flying mechanical butterfly made by Pietro Corvo. The clockmaker, aiming to please, sets the pendulum to start playing its music upon his arrival in the Marquis bureau. Unfortunately, there is Irina playing the violin, and the contrast between the two instruments is immediately evident. Irina insults the watchmaker and rudely sends him on his way. What a humiliation for Corvo, who admires Irina as if she were a work of art and loves her with a most pure and impossible love.

A series of events brings Corvo in contact with the works of a Frenchman, Jaques Vaucanson, a great automaton maker. To bring his project to life, Corvo decides to go Paris to meet the famous mechanic. The trip, as well as presenting a humorous encounter with some street robbers, is the occasion for Giacomo to fall madly in love with the daughter of an innkeeper near the town of Moncenesio. Corvo will never get to Paris, as he discovers that the famous duck built by Vaucanson, that is supposed to eat and digest its food is nothing by at mere trick.

This to Corvo is unacceptable. Moreover in Lion he meets a mad scientist who nearly gets him arrested.

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