the hands. After this, they sow the corn. Then they plough together two of the smaller ridges into one, and so form deep trenches, of such a nature that the rainwater easily runs off the lands into them. When the corn is grown up on the ridges, they can also pass along these trenches in order to weed it. This way of tilling is a very sensible one wherever there is a fear of overmoisture; but why it is practised on these rich open plains I cannot understand. This remark I just made at Arezzo, where a glorious plain expands itself. It is impossible to find cleaner fields anywhere. Not even a lump of earth is to be seen: all is as fine as if it had been sifted. Wheat thrives here most luxuriantly, and the soil seems to possess all the qualities required by its nature. Every second year, beans are planted for the horses, who in this country get no oats. Lupines are also much cultivated, which at this season are beautifully green, being ripe in March. The flax, too, is up. It stands the winter, and is rendered more durable by frost.
The olive-trees are strange plants. They look very much like willows: like them, also, they lose the heart of the wood, and the bark splits. But still they have a greater appearance of durability; and one sees from the wood, of which the grain is extremely fine, that it is a slow grower. The foliage, too, resembles that of the willow, only the leaves on the branches are thinner. All the hills around Florence are covered with olive-trees and vines, between which grain is sown; so that every spot of ground may be made profitable. Near Arezzo, and farther on, the fields are left more free. I observed that they take little care to eradicate the ivy, which is so injurious to the olive and the vine, although it would be so easy to destroy it. There is not a meadow to be seen. It is said that the Indian corn exhausts the soil. Since it has been introduced, agriculture has suffered in its other crops. I can well believe it with their scanty manuring.
