excellent old lady comprehend his very flattering proposition,
he was interrupted by the return of my father, who, at once
understanding the matter, turned him out of doors without
ceremony.

(1) See Ezekiel viii. 3.

On one occasion, a few years ago, on my return from the field
at evening, I was told that a foreigner had asked for lodgings
during the night, but that, influenced by his dark, repulsive
appearance, my mother had very reluctantly refused his request.
I found her by no means satisfied with her decision. "What if a
son of mine was in a strange land?" she inquired, self-
reproachfully. Greatly to her relief, I volunteered to go in
pursuit of the wanderer, and, taking a cross-path over the
fields, soon overtook him. He had just been rejected at the
house of our nearest neighbor, and was standing in a state of
dubious perplexity in the street. He was an olive-
complexioned, black-bearded Italian, with an eye like a live
coal, such a face as perchance looks out on the traveller in the
passes of the Abruzzi,(1)--one of those bandit visages which
Salvator(2) has painted. With some difficulty I gave him to
understand my errand, when he overwhelmed me with thanks,
and joyfully followed me back. He took his seat with us at the
supper-table; and, when we were all gathered around the hearth
that cold autumnal evening, he told us, partly by words and
partly by gestures, the story of his life and misfortunes, amused
us with descriptions of the grape-gatherings and festivals of his
sunny clime, edified my mother with a recipe for making bread
of chestnuts; and in the morning, when, after breakfast, his