ionate father'--'inconsolable
grief'-'sleeps in the joyful hope,' etc. Do you suppose these stoneless
mounds hide no dust of what were men just as good? But no epitaph tells
their virtues, bespeaks their wifes' grief, or promises joyful hope to
them!"

"Does it matter? Does God care for the epitaph and tombstone?"

"Datemi qualche cosa!" said the Savoyard, in his touching patois, still
smiling, and holding out his little hand; therein I dropped a small
coin. The boy evinced his gratitude by a new turn of the hurdy-gurdy.

"That is not labor," said my companion; "and had you found him at work,
you had given him nothing. I, too, have my instrument to play upon, and
my mice to see after. Adieu!"

He waved his hand, and strode irreverently over the graves back in the
direction we had come.

I stood before the fine tomb with its fine epitaph: the Savoyard looked
at me wistfully.

CHAPTER VI.

The Savoyard looked at me wistfully. I wished to enter into conversation
with him. That was not easy. However, I began.

Pisistratus.--"You must be often hungry enough, my poor boy. Do the mice
feed you?"

Savoyard puts his head on one side, shakes it, and strokes his mice.

Pisistratus.-"You are very fond of the mice; they are your only friends,
I fear."

Savoyard evidently understanding Pisistratus, rubs his face gently
against the mice, then puts them softly down on a grave, and gives a
turn to the hurdy-gurdy. The mice play unconcernedly over the grave.

Pisistratus, pointing first to the beasts, then to the
instrument.--"Which do you like best, the mice or the hurdygurdy?"

Savoyard shows his teeth--considers--stretches himself on the
grass-plays with the mice--and answers volubly. Pisistratus, by the help
of Latin comprehending that the Savoyard says that the mice are alive,
and the hurdy-gurdy is not.--"Yes, a live friend is better than a dead
one. Mortua est hurdy-gurda!"

Savoyard shakes his head vehemently.--"No--no, Eccellenza, non e morta!"
and strikes up a lively air on the slandered instrument. The Savoyard's
face brightens-he looks happy; the mice run from the grave into his
bosom. Pisistratus, affected, and putting the question in Latin.--"Have
you a father?"

Savoyard with his face overcast.--"No, Eccellenza!" then pausing
a little, he says briskly, "Si, si!" and plays a solemn air on the
hurdy-gurdy--stops--rests one hand on the instrument, and raises the
other to heaven.

Pisistratus unders