Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1899-09-10

that has been for centuries a house,
hold word in every civilized country on
earth. Many of these scenes, too, are
what an artist terms "paintable," and
at times he is tempted to make a stop
and place them in his ~sketch-book. He
would do so, but for the knowledge that
he'll find them there on the way back,
when he will have more leisure at his
disposal.
There is one scene, however, he is
determined to take now, as soon as he
arrives at the place. This is the ruin
of an ancient farm house, whose former
owner cost him many a days cudgeling
of his brains, at the same time imbuing
him with a keen desire to pay a visit
to the spot; for it is the famed "Sa-
bine farm of Horace. His way, he has
been told, will take him past the place,
and, as it is just twelve miles from I'll
voli, he should arrive there at the right
time for making his midday rest.
AS he draws near to it his classical
recollections become clearer, his poati-
cal sympathies so stirred that he only
feels forgiveness for the pain Of scan
ground trodden by the Roman poet him
self.
His lodgings are, at length, graft
fed. After a twelve miles tramp,
most of the way, as the pifferari had
warned him, lying along the stream
Licena, he comes upon a cluster of vine
yards, with patches of pasture-land be-
tween. all at once forming Horace's Sa-
bine farm, the estate bestowed upon
him by his friend and patron, Mecae-
mas. Of the house itself scarce a YES
tage remains, only some crumbling
fragraments of C%orinthian columns,
and a piece of white mosaic pavement,
partially exposed, the rest of it over
grown with weeds, bushes, and grass.
Still, surely the floor on which Horace
trod, stood, and sat; where he wrote
many a satirical ode or amorous ldyll,
inspired by his favorite 'Falernian."
Some distance beyond is the little vii
lage Licenza, the ancient Dlgenta,
while heal by is a group OF huts-ca-
panni-frail structures inhabited by the
neasaot proprietors of the vineyards,
who may be-as in all likelihood some
are-descendants of the five colonnl
who titled Horace's farm, or the slaves
of his household.
One of them encountered on the out-
skirts answers the inquiries put to MIN
nv the stranger, at the same time con-
Quoting him to the spot he is IN search
of.
"Ecco Ia villa d'Orazio!" exclaims the
peasant, planting his foot upon a piece
| of tesselated thing laid Dare by tne
spade, her loosely adding: It's
said that the worthy gentiluomo VINO
lived here so long ago liked his drop
of wine, and if your excellency be OF
that inclining, l shall take pleasure IN
fetching you a fascho-the best we
have about here
.'The very thing I would wish for"
returns the traveller, feeling thirty al
! ter his long and somewhat arduous
Journey. IF you do, I'll thank you
very much"
While the mar goes off to get the
| wine, the artist seats himself on a stone,
lays open his sketch-book, and sets
about tracing the ruins. But before he
can put pencil to paper he is interrupt
ed by the peasants, who come clustering
around. Soon they form a group, two
score of them at least, of all ages and
both sexes-in short, the entire popula-
ton of the capanni-men, women and
children. They have streamed out of
their huts to have a look at the strang-
er, a forestiere, as the man gone after
the wine has informed them.
Their coming forth is not altogether
from curiosity, for he is far from being
the first foreign tourist they have had
opportunity of inspecting. Their mo-
NA'S Il hoiO ~ SCIt1hS q OuOuo manu.,
OIL turning a penny in the way of trade,
since almost every one of them has
something to sell-an ancient coin that
once chinked in Horace's pocket, an
intaglio that figured on his finger, a bit
of broken glass, part of the poets YER
liable drinking vessel, or a fragment of
e~arthenware from the basin that held
his broth. OF their authenticity you are
assured. They have all been unearthed
upon the spot, the very site of the
house, and who could gainsay their
genuineness?
With the fracas thus caused, and con-
tinuing, the artist finds it impossible to
proceed with his drawing; ana, closing
his sketch-book, gives the thing up.
Even the Sabine farm house must be
taken at a more opportune time, which
ne will, 40 doubt, find on returning that
way.
Still remaining seated, he makes sur
yey of the faces before him. They are
a wild looking set, especially the men,
the c~ountenances of some of them hav-
ing an eynresSion SI1ch as fbe Caotnb