ree holidays in that time.' Argument unanswerable.

As the carriages rolled by, Caper determined to observe the festivals.

The next day our artist entered his name in his banker's register, and
had the horror of seeing it mangled to 'Jams Scraper' in the list of
arrivals published in the _Giornale di Roma_. For some time after his
arrival in Rome, he was pained to receive cards, circulars, notices,
letters, advertisements, etc., from divers tradesmen, all directed to
the above name. In revenge, he here gives them a public airing. One firm
announces,--

'Manafactury of Remain Seltings, Mosaiques, Cameas, Medalls, Erasofines,
&c.' (Erasofines is the Roman-English for crucifixes.) And on a slip of
paper, handsomely printed, is an announcement that they make 'Romain
Perles of all Couloueurs'--there's color for you!

A tailor, under the head of '_Ici un parle Francais_,' prints, 'Merchant
_and_ tailor. Cloths (clothes?) Reddy maid, Mercery Roman; Scarfs, etc.'

Another, 'Roman Artickles Manofactorer'--hopes to be 'honnoured with our
Custom, (American?), and flaters himsself we will find things to our
likings.' Everything but the English, you know--that is not exactly to
our liking. Another, from a lady, reads,--

_A VENTRE!_

_une Galerie decomposee de 300 d'Anciens Maitres, et de l'ecole romaine
peintres sur bois, sur cuivre et sur toit, &c._

_Ventre_ for _Vendre_ is bad enough, but a 'gallery of decomposed old
masters and of Roman school painters on wood and on the roof,' when it
was intended to say 'A gallery composed of 300 of the old masters--' But
let us leave it untranslated; it is already _decomposee_.

A SHORT WALK.

Mr. Caper having indignantly rejected the services of all professors of
the guiding art or 'commissionaires,' slowly sauntered out of his hotel
the morning after his arrival, and, map in hand, made his way to the
tower on the Capitoline Hill. Threading several narrow, dirty streets,
he at last went through one where in one spot there was such a heap of
garbage and broccoli stumps that he raised his eyes to see how high up
it reached against the walls of a palace; and there read, in black
letters,

_Immondezzaio_;

literally translated, A Place for Dirt. On the opposite wall, which was
the side of a church, he saw a number of black placards on which were
large white skulls and crossbones, and while examining these, a
bare-headed, brown-bearded, stout Franciscan monk passed him. From a