ne, and that Monsignore had the
hardihood to refuse. Indeed, he sympathized too greatly with the aroused
Italian spirit of unity and progress to compromise himself with the
house of Austria. When at last the revolution came, Cristoforo was one
of its best champions in Tuscany. His cantante sang only the march of
Garibaldi and the victories of Savoy. His own speeches teemed with the
gospel of Italy regenerated; and for a whole month he wasted no time in
the sale of his bottighias and pillolas, but threw all his vehement,
persuasive, and dramatic eloquence into the popular cause.

The end we know. Tuscany is a dukedom no longer, but a component part of
a great peninsular kingdom with "Florence the Beautiful" for its
capital.

And still before the ducal palace, where the deputies of Italy are to
assemble, poor, vain Cristoforo Rischio makes his harangue every Tuesday
and Saturday. He is now--or was four years ago--upward of sixty years of
age, but spirited and athletic as ever, and so rich that it would be
superfluous for him to continue his peripatetic career.

His life is to me noteworthy, as showing what may be gained by
concentrating even humble energies upon a paltry thing. Had Creso
persevered as well upon the stage, I do not doubt that he would have
made a splendid actor. If he did so well with a mere nostrum, why should
he not have gained riches and a less grotesque fame by the sale of a
better article? He understood human nature, its credulities and
incredulities, its superstitions, tastes, changefulness, and love of
display and excitement. He has done no harm, and given as much amusement
as he has been paid for. Indeed, I consider him more an ornamental and
useful character than otherwise. He has brightened many a traveler's
recollections, relieved the tedium of many a weary hour in a foreign
city, and, with all his deception, has never severed himself from the
popular faith, nor sold out the popular cause. I dare say his death,
when it occurs, will cause more sensation and evoke more tears, than
that of any better physician in Tuscany.

VI. HOAXES.

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE TWENTY-SEVENTH STREET GHOST.--SPIRITS ON THE RAMPAGE.

In classing the ghost excitement that agitated our good people to such
an extent some two years ago among the "humbugs" of the age, I must, at
the outset, remind my readers that there was no little accumulation of
what is termed "respectable" testimony, as to the reality o