XIII PAESTUM. MORNING MIST
Reading edition
WHEN, after a night of horrors at the inn of Pæstum, I rose before day, the temples were veiled in mist; the fences were lost; the factory chimney had vanished—the guardians were asleep—the place seemed far away; but soon a motor hooted and an engine whistled, the mists vanished, the guardians came out, the tourists flocked in; the sadness, the loneliness of Pæstum are gone with the malaria and the buffaloes—only the mosquitoes remain.
