asked a nephew.

"'That,' replied the dying man, 'I leave to my good friend, the only true
friend I ever had, the noblest of men--'

"'But what is his _name_?' asked the nephew.

"'Giano di Selva,' gasped the dying man. And it was written down by the
notary, and the will was signed, and the signer died immediately after.
All their shaking could not revive him.

"The tale ends with these words: _E cosi ingannati gli ingannatori_,
_rimase Giano herede del podere_--And thus the biters being bit, d'ye
see, Giano took a handsome property."

"And does his ghost still promenade the palace?"

"To oblige you, Signore, for this once--_place a lei il comandare_--it
does. The ghost walks--always when the rent fails to come in, and there
is no money in the treasury--_cammina_, _cammina per un fil di
spada_--walks as straight as an acrobat on a rope. But I cannot give you
a walking ghost of a rascal to every house, Signore. If all the knaves
who made fortunes by trickery were to take to haunting our houses in
Florence, they would have to lie ten in a bed, or live one hundred in a
room, and ghosts, as you know, love to be alone. _Mille grazie_, Signore
Carlo! This will keep _our_ ghost from walking for a week."

"Of which remark here made that '_the ghost doth walk_,'" comments the
sage Flaxius, "when money is forbidden unto man (which is so commonly
heard in theatrical circles when the weekly salary is not paid), I have
no doubt that it comes from the many ancient legends which assign a
jealous guardian sprite to every hoard. And thus in Spenser's wondrous
'Faerie Queene' the marvellous stores in Mammon's treasury, 'embost with
massy gold of glorious guifte,' were watched by

"'An ugly feend more fowle than dismall day;
The which with monstrous stalk behind him stept,
And ever as he went dew watch upon him kept.'

"The which quotation is in its turn otherwise curious since it gave, I
doubt not, the original suggestion to Coleridge of the verse wherein
mention is made in simile of one who walks in tear and dread, and dares
not turn his head--

"'For well he knows a griesly fiend
Doth close behind him tread.'

"'More or less accurately, my masters, more or less.' ''Tis sixty years
since'--I read the original."

THE SPIRIT OF THE PORTA SAN GALLO

"And both the undying fish that swim
Through Bowscale Tarn did wait on him:
The pair were servants of his eye
In their immo