ears old
it scarcely seems worth looking at. How horribly new they must think us
in America! Even Bunker Hill and the State House, Hannah, are very
modern," she added teasingly.

"Now, Jean, if this trip to Europe is going to make you turn up your
nose at your native land the best thing you can do is to face round and
go straight back home," was Hannah's severe reply.

"There, there, you dear old thing! Don't worry. I love my America, but
you should have learned by this time that I never can resist seeing you
bristle. But even you, bigoted as you are, must admit that a great deal
seems to have happened in the world before we on the other side of the
sea were alive at all."

"Much of it," observed Hannah with dignity, "was nothing to be proud
of, and it's as well they kept it on this side of the ocean."

From Naples Uncle Bob whirled his bewildered charges to Rome and then
to Florence, and while he was busy transacting business Hannah and Jean
were put in charge of a courier and taken to see so many pictures and
churches that Hannah begged never to be shown another masterpiece or
another spire so long as she lived.

"Bless your heart, Mr. Bob, if you were to lean the Sistine Madonna
right up against the table in my room I wouldn't turn my head to look
at it. And as for churches--I wouldn't accept Westminster Abbey as a
gift. Tell 'em not to urge it on me, for I wouldn't take it even if I
could get it through the customs free of duty. The things I'd like best
at this very minute would be an east wind and some baked beans."

But when they reached Venice and saw their first gondola even Hannah
was forced to admit that it far outshone the Boston swan-boats. The
travelers arrived late at night, and on passing through the station
came out on a broad platform where, instead of cabs and cars,
numberless gondolas floated, illumined by twinkling lights.

"Oh!" murmured Jean in a hushed whisper.

It was indeed a beautiful sight. Before them a stretch of water flooded
by the full moon wandered off into a multitude of tiny canals shut in
on either side by murky dwellings of stone or brick. In and out of
these dim little avenues plied boatmen who shouted a warning in shrill
Italian as they rounded the turns.

Uncle Bob lost no time in summoning a gondolier, and soon the party
were being swept along by the sturdy strokes of a swarthy Venetian who,
Hannah declared in an undertone, looked like nothing so much as a
full-fledged