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. Two such
journeys are reckoned enough for one day. This is how the people
get their corpo di legno e gamba di ferro--"their bodies of wood
and legs of iron." But I think they rather overdo it.
Talking of legs, as I went through the main street of Dalpe an old
lady of about sixty-five stopped me, and told me that while
gathering her winter store of firewood she had had the misfortune
to hurt her leg. I was very sorry, but I failed to satisfy her;
the more I sympathised in general terms, the more I felt that
something further was expected of me. I went on trying to do the
civil thing, when the old lady cut me short by saying it would be
much better if I were to see the leg at once; so she showed it me
in the street, and there, sure enough, close to the groin there was
a swelling.
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