The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1859-11-17

der who they are! Evidently well bred and
persons OF property. And that youngster could
not be q more stately gentleman, an he boosted
an hundred quarterngs. Sang de mon crdyon
Ill have her portrait whether she is willing or
not, and make it a fine one, and, cospetto if
they bore me, I'll sell.it, and have my revenge.
e-Beale-wonder where they're from
There are Beales ir Massachusetts but these
young peoples noses do not sport the proper
angle-pig against the wind--for Bostonians
They resemble Marylanders, and Miss Helen
might be a belle even in Baltimore. Well, I'm
in for il, as Tom Owens said, when he lost his
passport in Tyrol, and | do not think it will
prove such bad bargain, after all. They are
q frank, open pair, and as inexperienced as can
be, 80 | can save them from being cheated
Per Bacchoi I'd like to possess Titan's secret.
just to paint the colors of her cheek"
When, half an hour afterwards, the yetturino
announced his vehicle and everything was
ready for departure, Merivale was much pleased
to find that the bandboxes were not very nu-
merous; that Adele the lady's maid, was a
neat girl of Arras that the coach was large
and roomy; and that Miss Helen, like a genu-
fne traveller, had discarded frippery in her dress;
and, instead Of novel, carried genuine red
bound Murray in her lap. The hotel family
were all gathered to witness the start, no other
vale placed Miss Beale in the coach, arranged
her parcels, secured his portfolio inside at her
request, and turned-to see Maddalena stand
ing behind him, looking like veritable Nau-
sicaa.
" Diapolo !! I" he said to himself, eve shall
have scene here, and ma petite is going to
make me out terrible Lotharo in the Young
ladysleyes. Then to the girl, holding out his
hand, and kissing her on the forehead, +" Don
celia cara mia, tell not Giulio that have kissed
his bride, and Slipping coin into her hand,)
there's for favor when the wedding day comes
round. Addio, belle occhi"-
Maddalena stood like Ariadne as he sprang
into the coach then, turning towards Miss
Beale, with quick flash of the eye, she said,
The signorina is fortunate-she -
Allons! postillion! cite!" shouted Meri
vale, not knowing what would next transpire
"Atldio Carlo Toni Como-tutti- addio
Mdddatend-lll come again next year-au
reroir."
Addio signore signOrina''
But Maddalena uttered no farewell as the
party drove off.
What pretty Italian face Maddalena has"
said Helen, and such a lovely profusion Of
hair" She looked slyly at the artist
"Do you think SOP" replied he, CURLY
"Wen, it is very lovely, sans do,,Jte, but hardly
adapted to practical purposes, fancy"
"No?" inquired the young lady.
II don't think combs, particularly small
toothed ones, are over plentiful in this land
where the bright lemon blows"
"Oh," laughed Helen, I" is it so? Methinks
even Bayards chivalry could not stand that"
"Yet Byron loved the Italian women" re-
torted Rupert.
$50 he did the Greeks-because he could
h a. L
aristocrat though he was, Byron could not ap-
preciate a refined woman. He was afraid of
them; nay, more, he hated them, because he
felt they would not worship him. Italy is n
glorious field for poetry, doubtless, and a still
more fertile field for the poets, through whom
we have learned to bless it justly, and also to
believe that it is all that Shelley has called it :
- Thou lost Paradise OF this divine
and slorous world Thou foyw. ry wilderness
Where desolaiion clothed with love iness,
.~ofss rs he Thing ;her 4. crs' O i,ply' -
But the Poets poor one-sided enthusiasts,
would have us believe the Muse reigns su-
preme. | know better. Her empery is divided
She knows a brother near the throne-a ruth
less, exorbitant, practical, unimaginative ty-
rant, whose name is King Fleal | was once
so profane as to caricature Italy," added he,
laughingy, taking his portfolio, and extracting
to Miss Beale "See, you have the olive, the
vine, the orange, the ruined arch-these are
the Poets Italy. Thanking it you have the
Travellers Italy - Polenta, feas, douaniers,
aud dust, all mingled pele-D,ele. Schramm, a
quondam pupil OF Cornelius, and one Of the
best of the German artists in Rome, was so
much taken with it as a piece of subjective
identity through the medium of objective sym
bolism,' as he styled it, that he wrote a round
dozen of Eenien in its praise and published
them in some German Musen- Aimanach, whence
/ got commission from good King Ludwig
of Bavaria"
Thus pleasantly conversing, the hours slipped
by unnoticed almost while the rettura took its
leisurely course towards Milan-over the fat
plains of LON hardy, battlerven, blood enriched,
but now waving with wealth. 1t was a strange
country for them, just from the ice locked Alps,
these green and irrigated plains, these long
stretches Of level road ditch-lined, and fringed
everywhere with elms, and mulberres, and pop.
lars, spire like, or pollarded. Now they would
meet peasant train coming from the maize
fields, singing some song that brought tears to
Helen's eyes-ltalians in Italy, singing their
own songs-or a string of mules with the bells
about their necks waking cheerfullest echoes,
so that they seemed to dance along under their
burdens provision. sacks or casks of wine from
Chiavenna, each cask decked out with crowns
of leaves, which, meant simply to keep away
the sun, seemed in fact to be parts Of some
Bacchie worship, for which these brown, half
clad people were so adapted. Then Merivale
would call their attention to a group of idlers in
the shadow of some crumblng arch, eagerly
playing the mora, game perhaps old as
eternal Rome herself. How picturesque the
costumes, how graceful the movements aud I'M
Il of .1o ,,l Al IL
life, intensity, animation, fash and sparkle,
they flung up the quick fingers, eyed each other,
and screamed out the numbers Will there
not be murder? asked Helen, shuddering
dozen times. No; twas but the decision of
simple question: involving no mans honor
G due o tire dti."
At another time they would pass wayside
shrine, and Merivale's artistic eye would single
out some woman of the Lombards, with calm
almost majestic face-broad, smooth brow-eyes
wide apart, and, oh, so large, and gray, and
calm Then his face would brighten up, and
poetry would melt over his lips, almost uncon-
sciously to him.
And when, with bray of trumpet, and clank-
ing sabres and supercilious stare, troop of
Austrian soldiery would dash by-Huzzars of
Prague, Hulans from the South, or lancers
from the Polish frontier-very gay in their
snow-whte uniforms, faced and turned down
with blue, OF with cherry color-as if they were
cannibals from hasty meal, who had suffered
their victims blood to drip upon their bosoms-
their pipe-clayed belts, their worsted and marco
co tassels, their high plumed hats and heavy
boots-vhen these dashed by, turning their
white, haxen moustached faces, and staring in
solently at the occupants of the carriage-then
Helen saw Merivale's brow grow dark with
frowns, and he pressed his lips tight, and
clenched his teeth, in the manner of one who
invoked cnrse he would not utter aloud.
"What is your thought" asked.Rupert.