rst they seem hard and stern; there is a want
of soft distances; the eye looks in vain for the blended shadows of
northern landscape, and that rustic character so suggestive of country
life; but in their clear distinctness, their marvellous beauty of
outline, and in that vastness of view imparted by an atmosphere of
cloudless purity, there are charms indisputably great.

As the elder Englishman looked upon this fair picture, he gave a faint
sigh, and said: "I was thinking, Charley, what a mistake we make in life
in not seeking out such spots as these when the world goes well with
us, and we have our minds tuned to enjoyment, instead of coming to them
careworn and weary, and when, at best, they only distract us momentarily
from our griefs."

"And my thought," said the younger, "was, what a blunder it is to come
here at all. This villa life was only endurable by your Italian noble,
who came here once a year to squabble with his 'Fattore' and grind his
peasants. He came to see that they gave him his share of oil and did n't
water his miserable wine; he neither had society nor sport. As to our
English country-house life, what can compare with it!"

"Even that we have over-civilized, making it London in
everything,--London hours, London company, topics, habits, tastes, all
smacking of town life. Who, I ask you, thinks of his country existence,
nowadays, as a period of quietness and tranquil enjoyment? Who goes back
to the shade of his old elms to be with himself or some favorite author
that he feels to like as a dear friend?"

"No; but he goes for famous hunting and the best shooting in Europe,
it being no disparagement to either that he gets back at evening to a
capital dinner and as good company as he 'd find in town."

"May is of _my_ mind," said Sir William, half triumphantly; "she said so
last night."

"And she told me exactly the reverse this morning," said the younger.
"She said the monotony of this place was driving her mad. Scenery, she
remarked, without people, is pretty much what a panorama is, compared to
a play."

"May is a traitress; and here she comes to make confession to which of
us she has been false," said Sir William, gayly, as he arose to place a
chair for the young girl who now came towards them.

"I have heard you both, gentlemen," said she, with a saucy toss of her
head, "and I should like to hear why I should not agree with each and
disagree afterwards, if it so pleased me."

"Oh! if you f