rge city after it has been transported forty miles
or more. Not that we begrudged the thrifty inn-keeper his fee. We paid
it cheerfully, as well for his own sake as for that of his pleasant
and neat little wife, who kept the whole inn so sweet and clean; and
we bade them a most cordial farewell as we drove away from their door.

III.

Returning, we stopped at the great castle of the Obizzi (now the
property of the Duke of Modena), through which we were conducted by a
surly and humorous _custode_, whose pride in life was that castle and
its treasures, so that he resented as a personal affront the slightest
interest in any thing else. He stopped us abruptly in the midst of the
museum, and, regarding the precious antiques and curiosities around
him, demanded:

"Does this castle please you?" Then, with a scornful glance at us,
"Your driver tells me you have been at Arqua? And what did you see at
Arqua? A shabby little house and a cat without any hair on. I would
not," said this disdainful _custode_, "go to Arqua if you gave me a
lemonade."

A VISIT TO THE CIMBRI.

I had often heard in Venice of that ancient people, settled in the
Alpine hills about the pretty town of Bassano, on the Brenta, whom
common fame declares to be a remnant of the Cimbrian invaders of Rome,
broken up in battle, and dispersed along the borders of North Italy,
by Marius, many centuries ago. So when the soft September weather
came, last year, we sallied out of Venice, in three, to make
conquest of whatever was curious in the life and traditions of these
mountaineers, who dwell in seven villages, and are therefore called
the people of the Sette Communi among their Italian neighbors. We
went fully armed with note-book and sketch-book, and prepared to take
literary possession of our conquest.

From Venice to the city of Vicenza by railroad, it is two hours; and
thence one must take a carriage to Bassano (which is an opulent and
busy little grain mart, of some twelve thousand souls, about thirty
miles north of Venice). We were very glad of the ride across the
country. By the time we reached the town it was nine o'clock, and
moonlight, and as we glanced out of our windows we saw the quaint
up-and-down-hill streets peopled with promenaders, and every body
in Bassano seemed to be making love. Young girls strolled about the
picturesque ways with their lovers, and tender couples were cooing
at the doorways and windows, and the scene had all that