The situation of the little city of Tempio, amid the heights of the Limbara mountains, in the very heart of the bandit country, is highly interesting and picturesque. It is the chief place in that portion of the “capo di sopra” known as the “Gallura”, and contains 6000 souls.

There is a locanda, a sort of caravansary, and thither are our party collected. It is a primitive kind of place altogether, and not exactly adapted to the over – fastidious traveller. But, if our friends ever were afflicted with over – sensitive nerves and painfully delicate tastes, we believe they must have undergone a radical cure long before now; and have acquired that blessed piece of wisdom, always to look on the sunny side as much as possible, and, like the bee, extract the honey wherever it can be found. This is no “terra incognita” either to Mr. C―g, Edward, or the priest-they have many acquaintances to enquire after, compliments to pay, smiles and bows to receive. The priest, too, is in the plenitude of his importance, he introduces the milordi (for Bertoldo has secretly apprised him of their greatness) to every third person he meets whereupon there is a continuous stream of bows, and buzz of compliments.

The young Piedmontese officer follows in their wake, he, possibly, would have a cooler reception if alone. Piedmontese officers being, at Tempio, like fine pictures, more admired at a distance.

Tempio is a wonderfully quaint-looking old place, with its houses of rough-hewn red granite, ponderous wooden balconies, and a barn – like old church, meant to do duty as cathedral.

And then, its inhabitants, how wild they look, with their long black beards, and guns, and poignards; and the Moorish costume of the women, too, who are, moreover, very handsome; but can anything be more strange than to see them stalking about with a bright woollen skirt turned over their heads. Besides which, it is infinitely odd to see the demoiselles of the locanda marching about with their lamps on their heads; reminding one of the human candlesticks mentioned in the beautiful “Legend of Montrose”.