The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No. 1, July, 1862. Various

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СКАЧАТЬ 'Toneli told him such a lie. [Up went Rita's hands and eyes.]

      'Then the Pope says, while he looked so [knitting her brows]:

      ''Oblige me, if you please, by lifting up that cloth.'

      'And'Tonelli did.

      'Bread went down six baiocchi next morning!'

      'By the way, Rita,' asked Rocjean, 'where is your little brother, Beppo?'

      'Oh! he's home,' she answered, 'but I wish you would ask your friend Enrico, the German sculptor, if he won't have him again, for his model.'

      'Why, I thought he was using him for his new statue?'

      'He was; but oh! so unfortunately, last Sunday, father went out to see his cousin John, who lives near Ponte Mole, and has a garden there, and Beppo went with him; but the dear little fellow is so fond of fruit, that he ate a pint of raw horse-beans!'

      'Of all the fruit!' shouted Caper.

      'Si, signore, it's splendid; but it gave Beppo the colic next day, and when he went to Signore Enrico's studio to pose for Cupid, he twisted and wrenched around so with pain, that Signore Enrico told him he looked more like a little devil than a small love; and when Beppo told him what fruit he had been eating, Signore Enrico bid him clear out for a savage that he was, and told him to go and learn to eat them boiled before he came back again.'

      'I will speak to the Signore Enrico, and have him employ him again,' said Rocjean.

      'Oh! I wish you would, for the Signore Enrico was very good to Beppo; besides, his studio is a perfect palace for cigar-stumps, which Beppo used to pick up and sell—that is, all those he and father didn't smoke in their pipes.'

      'Make a sketch, Caper,' said Rocjean, 'of Cupid filling up his quiver with cigar-stumps, while he holds one between his teeth. There's a model love for you! Now, give Rita those two pauls you promised her, and let her go. Adio!'

      GIULIA DI SEGNI

      (Lines found written on the back of a sketch in Caper's portfolio.)

      By Roman watch-tower, on the mountaintop,

      We stood, at sunset, gazing like the eagles

      From their cloud-eyrie, o'er the broad Campagna,

      To the Albanian hills, which boldly rose,

      Bathed in a flood of red and pearly light.

      Far off, and fading in the coming night,

      Lay the Abruzzi, where the pale, white walls

      Of towns gleamed faintly on their purple sides.

      The evening air was tremulous with sounds:

      The thrilling chirp of insects, twittering birds,

      Barking of shepherds' fierce, white, Roman dogs;

      While from the narrow path, far down below,

      We heard a mournful rondinella ring,

      Sung by a home-returning mountaineer.

      Then, as the daylight slowly climbed the hills,

      And the soft wind breathed music to their steps,

      O'er the old Roman watch-tower marched the stars,

      In their bright legions—conquerors of night—

      Shedding from silver armor shining light;

      As once the Roman legions, ages past,

      Marched on to conquest o'er the Latin way,

      Gleaming, white-stoned, so far beneath our gaze.

      Giula di Segni, 'mid the Volscians born,

      Streamed in thy veins that fiery, Roman blood,

      Curled thy proud lip, and fired thy eagle eyes.

      Faultless in beauty, as the noble forms

      Painted on rare Etrurian vase of old;

      How life, ennobled by thy love, swept on,

      Serene, above the mean and pitiful!

      Stars! that still sparkle o'er old Segni's walls,

      Oh! mirror back to me one glance from eyes

      That yet may watch you from that Roman tower.

      MR. BROWN BUYS A PAINTING

      Caper's uncle, from St. Louis, Mr. William Browne, one day astonished several artists who were dining with him:

      'My young men,' said he, 'there is one thing pleases me very much about you all, and that is, you never mention the word Art; don't seem to care any thing more about the old masters than I would about a lot of old worn-out broom-sticks; and if I didn't know I was with artists in Rome, the crib—no, what d' ye call it?'

      'The manger?' suggested Rocjean.

      'Yes,' continued Uncle Bill, 'the manger of art, I should think I was among a lot of smart merchants, who had gone into the painting business determined to do a right good trade.'

      'Cash on delivery,' added Caper.

      'Yes, be sure of that. Well, I like it; I feel at home with you; and as I always make it a point to encourage young business men, I am going to do my duty by one of you, at any rate. I shan't show favor to my nephew, Jim, any more than I do to the rest. And this is my plan: I want a painting five feet by two, to fill up a place in my house in St. Louis; it's an odd shape, and that is so much in my favor, because you haven't any of you a painting that size under way, and can all start even. I'll leave the subject to each one of you, and I'll pay five hundred dollars to the man who paints the best picture, who has his done within seven days, and puts the most work on it! Do you all understand?'

      They replied affirmatively.

      'But what the thunder,' asked Caper, 'are those of us who don't win the prize, going to do with paintings of such a size, left on our hands? Nobody, unless a steamboat captain, who wants to ornament his berths, just that size, and relieve the tedium of his passengers, would ever think of buying them.'

      'Well,' replied Uncle Bill, 'I don't want smart young men like you all, to lose your time and money, so I'll buy the balance of the paintings for what the canvas and paints cost, and give two dollars a day for the seven days employed on each painting. Isn't that liberal?'

      'Like Cosmo de Medici,' answered Rocjean; 'and I agree to the terms in every particular, especially as to putting the most work on it! There are four competitors—put down their names. Légume, you will come in, won't you?'

      'Certainly I will, by Jing!' answered the French artist, who prided himself on his knowledge of English, especially the interjections.

      'Then,' continued Rocjean, 'Caper, Bagswell, Légume, and I, will try for your five hundred dollar prize. When shall we commence?'

      'To-day is Tuesday,' replied Uncle Bill; 'say next Monday—that will give you plenty of time to get your frames and canvases. So that ends all particulars. There are two friends of mine here from the United States, one, Mr. Van Brick, of New York, and the other, Mr. Pinchfip, of Philadelphia, whom I think you all met here last week.'

      'The thin gentleman with hair very much brushed, be Gad?' asked Légume.

      'I don't remember as to his hair,' answered Uncle Bill, 'but that's the man. Well, these two I know will act as vampires, and I am sure you will СКАЧАТЬ