injury in his tone, "to howl half an
hour without ceasing."

II.

THE FERRARA ROAD.

The delight of one of our first journeys over the road between Padua
and Ferrara was a Roman _cameriere_ out of place, who got into the
diligence at Ponte Lagoscuro. We were six in all: The Englishman who
thought it particularly Italian to say "Si" three times for every
assent; the Veneto (as the citizen of the province calls himself, the
native of the city being Veneziano) going home to his farm near Padua;
the German lady of a sour and dreadful countenance; our two selves,
and the Roman _cameriere_. The last was worth all the rest--being a
man of vast general information acquired in the course of service
with families of all nations, and agreeably communicative. A brisk
and lively little man, with dancing eyes, beard cut to the mode of the
Emperor Napoleon, and the impressive habit of tapping himself on the
teeth with his railroad-guide, and lifting his eyebrows when he
says any thing specially worthy of remark. He, also, long after the
conclusion of an observation, comes back to himself approvingly,
with "_Si_!" "_Vabene_!" "_Ecco_!" He speaks beautiful Italian and
constantly, and in a little while we know that he was born at
Ferrara, bred at Venice, and is now a citizen of Rome. "St. Peter's,
Signori,--have you ever seen it?--is the first church of the world.
At Ferrara lived Tasso and Ariosto. Venice is a lovely city. Ah! what
beauty! But unique. My second country. _Si, Signori, la mia seconda
patria_." After a pause, "_Va bene_."

We hint to him that he is extremely fortunate in having so many
countries, and that it will be difficult to exile so universal a
citizen, which he takes as a tribute to his worth, smiles and says,
"Ecco!"

Then he turns to the Veneto, and describes to him the English manner
of living. "Wonderfully well they eat--the English. Four times a day.
With rosbif at the dinner. Always, always, always! And tea in the
evening, with rosbif cold. _Mangiano sempre. Ma bene, dico_." After
a pause, "_Si_!" "And the Venetians, they eat well, too. Whence the
proverb: '_Sulla Riva degli Schiavoni, si mangiano bei bocconi_.'
('On the Riva degli Schiavoni, you eat fine mouthfuls.') Signori, I am
going to Venice," concludes the cameriere.

He is the politest man in the world, and the most attentive to ladies.
The German lady has not spoken a word, possibly not knowing the
language. Our good cameriere cannot bea