Italian Journeys

id-looking business men to say their prayers, but gay young dandies, who knelt and repeated their orisons and then rose and went seriously out. In

city had been so many years under the Pope, and His Holiness contrives common

no great name to modern Italian literature. Her men of letters seem to be of that race of grubs singularly abundant in Italy,-men who dig out of archives and libraries some topic of special and momentary interest and print it, unstudied and unphilosophized. Their books are material, not literature, and it is marvelous how many of them are published. A writer on any given subject can heap toge

year 1703, printed all in italics. I suppose there are two hundred odd rhymers selected from in that book,-and how droll the most of them are, with their unmistakable traces of descent from Ariosto, Tasso, and Guarini! What acres of enameled meadow there are in those pages! Brooks enough to turn all the mills in the world go purling throu

n their ways, in spite of their ferocious trade, and an American freedom of style. They brag in a manner

me mysterious reason, always pretends that the best dishes are out), they bullied him for the honor of Italy, and made him bring them to us. Indeed, I am afraid his life was sadly harassed by those brave men. We were in deep despair at finding no French bread, and the waiter swore with the utmost pathos that there was none; but as soon as his back was turned

ers, who had formerly been in the Austrian service at Vienna, recognized the word bitter in our remarks on the beccafichi. As I did not care to put these fine fellows to the trouble of hating us for others' faults, I made bold to say that we were not Germans, and to add that bitter was also an English word. Ah! yes, to be sure, one of them

tlemen are all Pie

owed,) is of Piacenza; and our friend across the table is Genoese. The army is doing a great deal to

so many ages of mutual hate and bloodshed, turned the talk upon the origin of the It

w," I said. "We

mericani!" They had great pleasure of it. Did

e had been electe

e election day,

hat he had a brother living there. The poor Crimean boastfully added that he himself had a cousin in America, and that the Americans generally s

of politeness to us, and that they believed each other. It was very kind of them, and we were so grateful that we put

leave to light their cigars, they were smoking-the sweet young bride blowing a fairy cloud from her rosy lips with the rest. "Indeed," I heard an Italian lady once remark, "why should men pretend to deny us the privilege of smoking? It is so p