At an unexpected turn of the road there spread before me a vast
prospect; I looked down upon inland Calabria. It was a valley broad
enough to be called a plain, dotted with white villages, and backed
by the mass of mountains which now, as in old time, bear the name of
Great Sila. Through this landscape flowed the river Crati--the
ancient Crathis; northward it curved, and eastward, to fall at
length into the Ionian Sea, far beyond my vision. The river Crathis,
which flowed by the walls of Sybaris. I stopped the horses to gaze
and wonder; gladly I would have stood there for hours. Less
interested, and impatient to get on, the driver pointed out to me
the direction of Cosenza, still at a great distance. He added the
information that, in summer, the well-to-do folk of Cosenza go to
Paola for sea-bathing, and that they always perform the journey by
night. I, listening carelessly amid my dream, tried to imagine the
crossing of those Calabrian hills under a summer sun! By summer
moonlight it must be wonderful.

We descended at a sharp pace, all the way through a forest of
chestnuts, the fruit already gathered, the golden leaves rustling in
their fall. At the foot lies the village of San Fili, and here we
left the crazy old cart which we had dragged so far. A little
further, and before us lay a long, level road, a true Roman highway,
straight for mile after mile. By this road the Visigoths must have
marched after the sack of Rome. In approaching Cosenza I was drawing
near to the grave of Alaric. Along this road the barbarian bore in
triumph those spoils of the Eternal City which were to enrich his
tomb.

By this road, six hundred years before the Goth, marched Hannibal on
his sullen retreat from Italy, passing through Cosentia to embark at