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. Again I said how sorry I was, and added that perhaps
she ought to show it to a medical man. "But aren't you a medical
man?" said she in an alarmed manner. "Certainly not," replied I.
"Then why did you let me show you my leg?" said she indignantly,
and pulling her clothes down, the poor old woman began to hobble
off; presently two others joined her, and I heard hearty peals of
laughter as she recounted her story. A stranger visiting these
out-of-the-way villages is almost certain to be mistaken for a
doctor. What business, they say to themselves, can any one else
have there, and who in his senses would dream of visiting them for
pleasure? This old lady had rushed to the usual conclusion, and
had been trying to get a little advice gratis.

Above Dalpe there is a path through the upper valley of the
Piumogna, which leads to the glacier whence the river comes. The