"Do ye tell me now?" sez I.

and a quare bird."

"Sure it's a quare country

An' thin they all laughed again, till at last I laughed myself that hearty like, an' dropped right into a chair between the two purty girls, an' the ould chap winked at me and roared again.

Dennis is me father-in-law now, an' he often yet delights to tell our children about their daddy's adventure wid the owl.

ITALIAN:

A SENATOR ENTANGLED.

JAMES DE Mille.

THE Countess di Nottinero was not exactly a Recamier, but she was a remarkably brilliant woman, and the acknowledged leader of the liberal part of Florentine society.

The good Senator had never before encountered a thorough woman of the world, and was as ignorant as a child of the innumerable little harmless arts by which the power of such a one is extended and secured. At last the Senator came to this conclusion, - La Cica was desperately in love with him.

She appeared to be a widow. At least she had no husband that he had ever seen. Now, if the poor Cica was hopelessly in love, it must be stopped at once. But let it be done delicately, not abruptly.

One evening they walked on the balcony of La Cica's noble residence. She was sentimental, devoted, charming.

The conversation of a fascinating woman does not sound so well when it is reported as it is when uttered. Her power is in her tone, her glance, her manner. Who can catch the evanescent beauty of her expression or the deep tenderness of her well modulated voice? who indeed?

"Does ze scene please you, my Senator?" "Very much indeed."

"Youar countryman haf tol me zey would like to stay here alloway."

"It is a beautiful place."

"Did you aiver see any thin moaire loafely?" And the Countess looked full in his face.

"Never," said the Senator, earnestly. The next instant he blushed. He had been betrayed into a compliment. The Countess sighed.

"Helas! my Senator, that it is not pairmitted to mortals to sociate as zey would laike."

"Your Senator,"" thought the gentleman thus addressed; "how fond, how tender, - poor thing! poor thing!

"I wish that Italy was nearer to the States," said he. "How I adamiar youar style of mind, so different from ze Italiana! You are so strong, so nobile. Yet would I

laike to see moar of ze poetic in you."

"I always loved poetry, marm," said the Senator, desperately.

"Ah- good- nais - eccelente. I am plees at zat,' cried the Countess, with much animation. "You would loafe it moar eef you knew Italiano. Your langua ees not sufficient musicale for poatry."

"It is not so soft a language as the Italian."

"Ah

not so soft. Very well.

you of ze Italiano?"

And what theenka

"The sweetest language I ever heard in all my born days."

"Ah now

Senator."

- you hev not heard much of ze Italiano, my

"I have heard you speak often," said the Senator, naïvely.

"Ah, you compliment! I sot you was aboove flattera.' And the Countess playfully tapped his arm with her little fan.

"What Ingelis poet do you loafe best?"

"Poet? English poet?" said the Senator, with some sur

why, marm, I think Watts is about the best

66 "Watt? Was he a poet? I did not know zat. He who invented ze stim-injaine? And yet if he was a poet it is naturale zat you loafe him best."

66

Steam-engine? O no! This one was a minister.”

"A meeneestaire? Ah! an abbe? I know him not. Yet I have read mos of all youar poets."

"He made up hymns, marm, and psalms,

Watts's Divine Hymns and Spiritual Songs.'"

for instance,

"Songs? Spirituelle? Ah, I mus at once procuaire ze works of Watt, which was favorit poet of my Senator."

"A lady of such intelligence as you would like the poet Watts," said the Senator, firmly. He is the best known by far of all our poets."

66

What! better zan Sakespeare, Milton, Bairon? You much surprass me.”

"Better known and better loved than the whole. lot. Why, his poetry is known by heart through all England and America."

"Merciful Heaven! what you tell me! ees eet possible! An yet he is not known here efen by name. It would please me mooch, my Senator, to haire you make one quotatione. Know you Watt? Tell to me some words of his which I may remembaire."

"I have a shocking bad memory."

"Bad memora! O, but you remember somethin, zis mos beautiful charm nait, · you haf a nobile soul, - you mus be affecta by beauty,

tione."

by ze ideal.

Make for a me one quota

And she rested her little hand on the Senator's arm, and

looked up imploringly in his face.

The Senator looked foolish.

He felt even more so. Here

was a beautiful woman, by act and look showing a tender interest in him. Perplexing, but very flattering, after all. So he replied,

66

You will not let me refuse any thing."

"Aha! you are vera willin' to refuse. It is difficulty for me to excitaire youar regards. You are fill with the grands will you spik for me some from your

ideas.

But come,

favorit Watt?"

"Well, if you wish it so much," said the Senator, kindly; and he hesitated.

hear every sin, and will remembaire it forava.”

The only thing that the Senator could think of was a verse which had been running in his head for the last few days, its measured rhythm keeping time with every occupation:

"My willing soul would stay

66

999

Stop one moment," said the Countess.

66

"I weesh to learn it from you"; and she looked fondly and tenderly up, but instantly dropped her eyes.

"Ma willina sol wooda sta"In such a frame as this,' prompted the Senator. "Een socha framas zees.' WaitMa willina sol wooda sta in socha framas zees.' Ah, appropriat! but could I hope zat you were true to zose lines, my Senator? Well?"

“And sit and sing herself away,'" said the Senator, in a faltering voice, and breaking out into a cold perspiration for fear of committing himself by such uncommonly strong language.

"Ansit ansin hassaf awai,"" repeated the Countess, her face lighting up with a sweetly conscious expression.

The Senator paused..

"Well?"

“I—ehem! I forget."

"Forget? Impossble!"

"I do really."

"Ah now! Forget! I see by youar face

Say on."

-you desave.

The Countess again gently touched his arm with both of her little hands, and held it as though she would clasp it. "Have you fear? Ah, cruel!"

The Senator turned pale, but, finding refusal impossible, boldly finished:

"To affarlastin blees thar.' Stop. I repeat it all: Ma willina sol wooda sta in socha framas zees, ansit ansin hassaf awai to affarlastin blees thar.' Am I right?"

"Yes," said the Senator meekly.

"I knew you war a poetic sola," said the Countess, confidingly. "You are honesto - true — you cannot desave. When you spik I can beliv you. Ah, my Senator! an you can spik zis poetry!at soch a taime! I nefare knew befoare zat you wos so impassione! an you air so artaful! You breeng ze confersazione to beauty to poatry — to ze poet Watt, so you may spik verses mos impassione! Ah! what do you mean? Santissima madra! how I wish you spik Italiano."

The Countess drew nearer to him, but her approach only deepened his perplexity.

"How that poor thing does love me!" sighed the Senator. "Law bless it! she can't help it, can't help it nohow. She is a goner; and what can I do? I'll have to leave Flor

ence.

The Countess was standing close beside him in a tender mood, waiting for him to break the silence. How could he? He had been uttering words which sounded to her like love; and she "a widow! a widow! a widow! wretched man that I am!"

There was a pause. The longer it lasted the more awkward the Senator felt. What upon earth was he to do or say? What business had he to go and quote poetry to widows? What an old fool he must be! But the Countess was very far from feeling awkward. Assuming an elegant attitude, she looked up, her face expressing the tenderest solicitude.