faithfully, and the only trouble with it was that the young girl was
growing into a young woman, and that he could not go on teaching her
forever. In an evil hour, as it seemed to Don Ippolito, that made the
years she had been his pupil shrivel to a mere pinch of time, there
came from a young count of the Friuli, visiting Venice, an offer of
marriage; and Don Ippolito lost his place. It was hard, but he bade
himself have patience; and he composed an ode for the nuptials of his
late pupil, which, together with a brief sketch of her ancestral
history, he had elegantly printed, according to the Italian usage, and
distributed among the family friends; he also made a sonnet to the
bridegroom, and these literary tributes were handsomely acknowledged.

He managed a whole year upon the proceeds, and kept a cheerful spirit
till the last soldo was spent, inventing one thing after another, and
giving much time and money to a new principle of steam propulsion,
which, as applied without steam to a small boat on the canal before his
door, failed to work, though it had no logical excuse for its
delinquency. He tried to get other pupils, but he got none, and he
began to dream of going to America. He pinned his faith in all sorts of
magnificent possibilities to the names of Franklin, Fulton, and Morse;
he was so ignorant of our politics and geography as to suppose us at
war with the South American Spaniards, but he knew that English was the
language of the North, and he applied himself to the study of it.
Heaven only knows what kind of inventor's Utopia, our poor, patent-
ridden country appeared to him in these dreams of his, and I can but
dimly figure it to myself. But he might very naturally desire to come
to a land where the spirit of invention is recognized and fostered, and
where he could hope to find that comfort of incentive and companionship
which our artists find in Italy.