e containing pictures,
the other books. Of the latter there were perhaps a hundred and fifty,
choice and well selected.
Frank looked at them with avidity.
"You shall be welcome to use them as freely as you like," said the
owner--an offer which Frank gratefully accepted.
The engravings were tastefully framed in black walnut. One represented
one of Raphael's Madonnas. Another was a fine photograph, representing
a palace in Venice. Several others portrayed foreign scenes. Among them
was a street scene in Rome. An entire family were sitting in different
postures on the portico of a fine building, the man with his swarthy
features half-concealed under a slouch hat, the woman holding a child
in her lap, while another, a boy with large black eyes, leaned his head
upon her knees.
"That represents a Roman family at home," explained Henry Morton.
"At home!"
"Yes, it is the only home they have. They sleep wherever night finds
them, sheltering themselves from the weather as well as they can."
"But how do they get through the winter? should think they would
freeze."
"Nature has bestowed upon Italy a mild climate, so that, although they
may find the exposure at this season disagreeable, they are in no danger
of freezing."
There was another engraving which Frank looked at curiously. It
represented a wagon laden with casks of wine, and drawn by an ox and
a donkey yoked together. Underneath was a descriptive phrase, "Caro di
vino."
"You don't see such teams in this country," said Mr. Morton, smiling.
"In Italy they are common enough. In the background you notice a priest
with a shovel-hat, sitting sideways on a donkey. Such a sight is much
more common there than that of a man on horseback. Indeed, this stubborn
animal is found very useful in ascending and descending mountains, being
much surer-footed than the horse. I have ridden down steep descents
along the verge of a precipice where it would have been madness to
venture on horseback, but I felt the strongest confidence in the donkey
I bestrode."
Frank noticed a few Latin books in the collection. "Do you read Latin,
Mr. Morton?" he inquired.
"Yes, with tolerable ease. If I can be of any assistance to you in
carrying on your Latin studies, it will afford me pleasure to do so."
"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Morton. I tried to go on with it by
myself, but every now and then I came to a difficult sentence which I
could not make out."
"I think we can
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