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Lucknow Sentinel, 1892-03-18, Page 6A BARITONE'S DEVOTION ; OR, ,A. TALE OF' SUNNY ITALY. ' Si▪ lently he walked back with the child to t430 Palazzo, Ferti, found that Nita was still ' mat-Serrisiite, and went to --Reek' -Entice, ile might spend his lest evening with els • friend. Between ten and eleven Enrico • returned with him, and th'e two made their way together up the long staircase. "1 Will come in and see your friendly • Nnglishman once more, said Enrico, "and will say good-bye to your sister, if she has ,esetmeback." ier But Nita and her husband were still out, and Sardoni had gone to the San Carlino ; Carlo, however, fa,neyinghe heard his voice in the mkt, entered quickly, receiving a severe shock when he saw that Gomez was not, as he had fancied, talking to the tenor. Seated at a table, facing the Spaniard, was - a man with a high, rounded forehead, from which the closely cut hair receded so much that in prbfile the effed was most curious, so large was the expellee of pallid face, so small the expanse of dark, silky waves. The nose was hooked,. the expression very quiet', the eyes cold, but capable of lighting up,. for as soon asthe stranger became aware of Carlo's presence a gleam kindled in them, and turning to Gomez, he said politely, but with a smile which made Carlo shudder, "Prey introduce me to my rival, that I may have the pleasure of congratulating him on his great success." • Perhape," said Gomez, with his usual stolid" gravity, "perhaps Signor Donati does not care to be introduced to so formid- able a rival." , The speech; which had been intended to put Carlo in a still more awkward predica- ment, signally failed, for with ready courtesy he seized it and turned it to his advantage. • "As a rival I decline to be introduced to Signor Comerio," he said, in the pleasantest • manner imaginable. "There can be no •question of rivalry between a veteran and a novice ; but as a fellow -artist I am happy to make his acquaintance." • He bowed. Comerio, with hatred in his heart and a smile on his lips, bowed in reply; the two men exchanged a few re- marks on Musical matters, and before long Comerio took. leave, owning himself beaten. • There was undoubtedly something inDonati's imperturbable courtesy and fearleris honesty --which baffled his malice. • •CHAPTER XVIII. FRANCESCA'S AUTUMN., "Tell me all about it over aga-n, tano, ; I think you have made a•mistake in • liosheg to be a, fisherman. You should avebeen, a professional tale -teller. Tell it me all over again from the very beginning." • The old. fishertnan pulled his red Phrygiaii -cap lower over his wrinkled forehead, shook back his grizzed locks, glanced up at his • brown sail to see that all was well,_then looked 'across at the sweet, eager face oppo- site him, and felt willing enough to obey ;the requeste • • - " Gran Dio ! he is aa good as a piece of bread ! " exclaimed the old fisherman. 44 Who but he would have thought of cora- • lbw all the way out here to fetch a shabby • eld fellow like me, and giving me a fine . plane at the theatre, where I could see as well as those who carry a heavy purse, and ate too fine to walk on foot, and spend their . days in idlenees-? He came, signorina, • bringing with him the little boy, his 'nephew." Was he looking well ?" asked Francesca, • still keeping her •face turned away. , ";Ebbene signorina! he was gra,ve and quiet, doubtless thinking of the evening; and, now I come to think of his face, I re- • mernber it was browner than it was wont to be;• he had lost his calor, being shut up so much studying." Boredom° could hardly help smiling to himself, because he thciught • he had given these reasons with such an ad- mirable airof conviction. "But except for that lie wakt jest like himself, signorina, just like. .He would take an oaf on the way back to Naples, as if he were back in the old times, and I was rowing him to school once more, as I did for many a year •n the warm weather. And then'when in the evening I saw him stand on the stage, with all the people praising him, and he lookingso fine in his velvet dress and his sword—then'I did feel proud to think that only a few hours back he had taken my oar from me that I might rest a bit. He couldn't have treated me better, signorina, if I'd been his own father." "And the people applauded him a great .deal?" asked Fraheesca. •" Cappgri you may believe me, signor- ina, the noiseenade my head ache for days 'after. Hove he bore it, I don't kno but afterward, when they called for hi came before the curtain looking as modest and natural as if he were but just an ordinary man in his own home, and bowed as though he were pleased that we had found pleasure in hisacting. And when I went to thank him and take leave I came upon him just at the stage door, and he said he wanted a breath of fresh air, for the theatre had been nearly as hot as the crater of Vesuvius; and he walked With me down to the Piliero, till I could have thought he had been a boy again; he seemed so like himself that I could hardly believe 'twas he that had been Valentinoa few minutes since, with all the house crying over his death." "Then he acted very well ?" • "He just made it real, signorina ! Gran Dio 1 can never forget his face as he drove back the devil with the cross, step- ping mit boldly before the soldiers as though •he feared naught. ''Twas fine to see the old devil cringing and backing ! I can tell you, signorina, that I came away that night believing in the old faith once more. There's more in the cross than they would wish to have,us think down at our club in Francesca'thought she would have liked to tell her father that story, but Carlo's name had never passed between• them since her betrothal had been ended, and she knew that she would not be the first to break the silence. Comforted and yet saddened by her talk with the old fisherman, she was set down on the beach and made her way theolfgh the vineyard to the familiar olive garden, " Why, who .can be here?" exclaimed Sibyl. " Someone talking with father. Look !" k'rancesc heart leaped into her mouth, for she caught sight through the trees of a Panama hat exactly like Carlo's. In an instant a hundred wild hopes and conjectures had passed through her mind, to be all too quickly dispelled, for, as they drew nearer, Captain,: Britton came down the path to meet them, and she saw that tne Panama. hat belonged to Count Carossa. For a momentshe could not help hating him ; what right had he to take Carlo's house, to dress like him, to 1kd�thtthT labia was forever • associated in her mind with the day of her be ? It was all she could do to greet him as usual. "1 find Count Carossa is going in to Naples this evening to the ball," said Captain Britton, "80 I have offered him a seat in our carriage. What time had you thought of starting, Fran ?" Francesca had thought of going early and returning early, but quickly realized that 'Jount Carossa would probably stay late, so she proposed that they should go an hour later than she had first intended, and, without being discourteous, managed to seem Perfectly indifferent as to the arrangement. The count was piqued by her manner; she was ehe first pretty foreigner he had ever met who was not willing to -flirt with him. and he was determined to win her. She was obliged to promise him a dance, to stand by and look polite while her father invited him •to dinner that evening, and, later on even to accept some white azaleas which he brought with him from the Villa Bruno, not at all understanding that the mere sight of them would recall to her the image of her absent lover, of whose existence the count had no idea. When she came into the room Enrico was at the far end, talking to some Americans whom Francesca knew by sight. She felt almost certain that he saw her, and waited in trembling hope for his approach; but he never came, and before long she was sur- rounded by 'a little throng of worshippers, and her card was speedily filled. When • Count Carona had written his name there was °lily one vacant place for the waltz which followed the cotillon. "Will you not let me have this one, too?" he asked, beseechingly. She avoided his eager brown eyes, and •glanced quickly in Enrico's direction. He was making one of those profound, avvk- ward-lookipg bows of kills to a pretty little Neapolitan, and she felt a conviction that he did not mean to ask her to dance. It was hard to be avoided by the one man in the room whom she desired to talk to, and persecuted by the one she most wished to avoid ! She felt angry with Enricci and angry with the count, and though she sel- dom asserted herself, her spirit rose now, and she said, quickly • .. " Thal* you; I shall not dance after the cotillion." • "You are quite right; it is a• tiring affair. But you will permit me to sit oat with you, signorina ?! • I wish his eyes were green, or gray, or anything but brown," thought Francesca to herself, naughtily. "1 wish he was Feench, or German or anything but Italian Then aloud: " No, I don't think I shall make any promises. But perhaps I shall sit out with the partner I happen to choose in the cotillon. We Will see how things arrange themselves." • All this time Enrico had watched her critically? At first he had intended to ask her to dance, and to write and give Carlo a faithful and particular account of every word she had said: But when he saw her surrounded by admirers, and dispensing her favors with the .unconscious dignity of a little queen, then something like resentment began to stir in his heart, and he wondered, whether, after all, she deserved Carlo's de- votion whether it was even remotely likely that she would be faithful to him. He wee angry with her for looking so lovely and for smiling so charmingly; with all his philosophy he never once asked himself the question, how, was she to help it? He was angry with her for being admired by other men and angry with her• for looking hapPy while she danced, and hugged his old con- viction to his heart. "There is no 'sixth thing as love in the World ! all is; selfishness under the sun." And yet, though he pro- fessed to hold firmly to his creed, he longed to -night to see it falsified; he •would have liked, at any rate,, to think that his friend and the beautiful English girl .were those strange exceptions which, according to the proverb, prove the rule. • At length the cotillion was danced, and the time arrived when Francesca, the ac- knowledged belle of the evening, was seated in the middle of the room with a mirror in her hand, while those who were eager to be her partners went up one by one behind her, and looked over her shoulder, so that their faces were reflected in the glass. If she refused them she threw her handkerchief across the mirror; and it seemed to -night as if no one pleased her;for one after another was rejected, and Enrico was enchanted to see the confidence with which Count Carossa had approached her, changed to undisguis-, able chagrin as he retired into the ranks of the refused. • "Go and try your chance," urged a voice in Enrico's heart. But he reflected that it was well enough to see other men rejected, but not so pleasant to be refused one's self. " For Carlo's sake," urged the voice ; it is, your sole chance of talking to her." Much against his own inclination he moved forward and looked grimly down upon the mirror. His face Vas so funny a eontrast to all the worshipping faces which had preceded it that Francesca could have found it in her heart to laugh at -it bad she not been so happy and relieved. To the astonishment of • every one, including Enrico himeelf, she made the sign of accept- ance, and with the proud sense of possession hiegood humot returned, and he was ready to believe nothing but good of her. " I thought you were never coming," she said, under her breath, when talking was possible. "Did you wish for me ?" he asked, in his cold, rather sarcastic voice. "1 thought you were far too well provided with, cava- liers to care for so indifferent a dancer." " You ought to have known that' you were the one Irian in the room I should care to talk with," she saidomickly, stung by his tone, and by the perception of what he must have thought of her. But the next moment she half regretted, her words, for Enrieo's whole face changed, and he lifted his eyes to hers with the look in them whIcli she could not bear to see, save in the eyes of the man she loved. "1 thoUght you would tell me of Carlo," she said, determined to speak out boldly, though she would have preferred a more quiet place for the talk. "Have you heard from him ?" , " Three times," said Enrico, recovering his usual manner, 8. • zttetezearerezete.e.-.eeeestreettOieleet, mingled je • "'leleeed with I - They were Interruptee two by the necessity of attencunk ._ • dance. In the next interval he saw that the jealousy lead given place to unclouded satis- faction, and it was almost in the tone of her old childish days that she said, "Oh, yoe -will-tell-me all -about him, -will you • not You are his friend, I know, and for his sake, you will still be mine, I hope." "Indeed I will," he said, very kindly, "if you will let me. You never liked me in the old days; I dare say I was very dis- agreeable." "No, it was my fault" said Francesca. "1 was so jealous of you because you took up the time, end I was afraid he cared for you mere than for me; but now—but now I am not jealous any more." She laughed a little, and glanced up at him with a humorous look in her dark gray eyes. "1 would do anything•to serve you," said Enrico. • "1 cannot help „dill thinking of you as one who belongs to Carlo', and for that reason your slightest wish shall be a command to me." -" Thank you; you are so kind; you un- derstaud so well, Enrico," she replied, quickly adopting the tone f brotherly and sisterly intimacy which he had carefully in- stilled into his last remark. She was very grateful to him for putting in that saving clause, "for that reason," and dismissed forever from her mind the fear which had seized her not long since that Enrico wee going over into the tiresome ranks of her adorers. He was going to do no such thing; he was going to be to her just the strong, kind, brotherly friend she needed. "1 On glad it is over," ehe exclaimed, as the made ceased ; "do let us' get some- where away from all these people. Are you engaged for the next dance ? " • " No," said Enrico, hardly knowing whether to be amused or charmed by her unconventional frankness. "Ah, I am so glad ! for I saved it oh, purpose, and made Count Carossa so cross. Please, please, sit out with me somewhere, and tell me about the letters." Enrico in his secret soul felt a thrill of pride as he reflected that the belle of the evening had besought him to stay with her. Then all selfish thoughts faded away in admiration of the love which made shy, timid Francesca so innocently bold, so de- lightfully unlike the giels whom he was in the habit of meeting in society. He led her into the conservatory, which was prettily' hung with. Chinese lanterns; and here, at the far end, they discovered a 'charming little nook, with a rustic heat half hidden by ferns and flowering plants. "1 will send you the letters to read if you like; I coald always do that," began Enrico. "No," she said, with a sigh, "1 don't think it would be right, for my father made me promise not to write to him or receive letters from him, and that Would seem like a sort of subterfuge. But it can't be wrong to hear about him now that we have met at last. Where did he write from ?" "The first letter was from Malta; he seemed fadrlycheerful, made great fun over the colorless island, and grew Very patriotic over his comparisons. I am afraid he feels his exile a„great deal. You see he is such a thorough Italian; all hie interests are bound up with the country. Then, too, he was a good deal pained- because those idiots down at the Circle, of Social Instruc- tion—the club, you know, in which he had always taken so much interest—quite mis- understood his turning public singer, up- braided him with his desertion of the cause —much they knew a,bout it !—and called him frivolous and self-seeking, just as if they were a parcel of English Par tans, if you will pardon the comparison:" . • Francesca sighed. ' " It seems as If all the world were against him." "But that is what such knights•errant must expect," said Enrico. "1 can't see why," said Francesca, sadly; "of course they would expect the evil to be arrayed against them, but when their fel- low -soldiers turn upon them that seems hard. Still I think he was prepared for it; he counted the cost before' he set out—not _that that makes it any easier to bear." "He wrote again from Gibraltar, where, they Seem to have had a busy time," con- tinued Enrico; "and then again he wrote on board the steamer and posted the letter in England, so they are safely there, though the letter, being posted on landing, gave no particulars as to his first notions of the country." Francesca was silent for a minute ; the bare dry facts were so unsatisfying she wanted to know all the little details, she longed,so terribly to see the letters them- selves. Enrico partly understood, but found it impossible to come to her help. He had had no idea that it would have proved so hard to give any coherent account of his friend's long letters. While he was racking his brains for some quotable sentence he became aware of voices at a little distance beyond their leafy, screen ; he heard the word " Donati," and then, as the speakers drew nearer, the whole conversation became dis- tinctly audible. • " Well, his uncle is furious about it— disowned him on the spot." "You mark my words, Recline, there's a 'Woman in the case. For all Donati's high reputation, I would stake my life on it. These fellows who set up for being moial, if once they are touched, go to greater lengths than we should." "For the matter of that," remarked the other, " it is likely enough he should turn singer with such a voice ; magnificent ! the finest baritone 1 ever heard." • " Corpo del diavolo 1 you are as innocent as a child, my friend ! Would a man throw ever a fortune and a good match and a pro- fession to boot? Besides, see how quickly it was all arranged? One week we were congratulating him on being an avvocato, the next this fair unknown had lured him on to the stage." "What about a match'? 1 heatd nothiug of that." " I assure you I have it, on the best authority that he was betrothed to Miss Britton, and left her for 'he sake of the fair unknown." n " Capperi ! 'rids is truly a chapter from a romance ! Let ind see who was there in Merlino's company ? The little De Caisne, do you think ? or Domenica Borelli ?" The reply was inaudible ; there came a sound of laughter, then the voices died away in the distance. Enrico had been on the point of dashing forward to put a peremptory stop to the malicious gossip, but the recollection of Francesca's presence made him pause. To discusrrthe matter before her was out of the tem Ite would have been alined lin- ,. question, and even had she not been first he could -Ade -eft to any purpose, so companion, but when the srleeinterwoven the conservatory he turned to France:es- an.in.digname exclamatiabling on his lips. The exclamation was never uttered; however,, for the sight of her face almost choked him; it was bathed in tears, of which she seemed unconscious, for she made no effort to hide them ; ker hands were tightly locked together, and the tears eained down over her lovely pink -end -white cheeks. She had not stirred since their conversation had been interrupted, her face was still turned to his, just as it had been when he told her of Carlo's letters. Enrico longed to rush after the slanderers and crack their skulls together ; he had river in his whole life felt so savage and yet so tender, so eager to comfort and yet so conscious of his own unfitness. "Don't heed those brutes," he entreated. "After all, you knowevery public charader is exposed to this sort of thing, and really, upon niy soul, if one were not so angry one would be obliged to laugh at such an absurd notion." Francesca did not speak, but ehe was re- called to the present, and made an effort to stop crying. Enrico thought she had never looked so lovely .before, and felt that her tears were making sad havoc of his philosophy; and that, in self-defence, he must do what he could to check them. "See," he began, in his kindest voice, " if you go back to the ballroom presently, and people notice that you have been cry- ing, it Will make an opening for more of.this infernal gossip." " Yes," she said with e quiver in her voice which made his heart ache. " I had not thought of that " ; and hastily drying her eyes, she raised them to his all bright and shining, and pathetic as the eyes of a little child in trouble. Do you think it sinews much now ?" she asked. Enrico was no lady's man; he neither per- jured himself to please her nor evaded the question by a compliment, as many would have done. He looked gravely into those dark grey depths, and critically at the wet lashes fringing them. • " It does rather," he said ; " but weneed not go back yet, they are still dancipg."' "How sad the music sounds !" she said, witli a sigh ; "and yet ithe:el.waltz 1 used to be so fond of. It seems as if those hate- ful words heel taken the sweetness out of everything." " poseu think of them 1" exclaimed Enrico. "After all, you know it is but the way of the world. People would be dull if they did not inveot little scandals of this kind. Carlo has done'an altogether unprecedented thing, has actrially loved his sister better than himself ; but the world can't look into his heart, and naturally, after its invariable custom, credits him with low motives." "It is just thAt which mikes it so hard," said Francesca. "1 didn't think they could have been so cruel; people- too, who -must really have known him. How can they— how can they think such things? All his life gives the lie to it !" There Wits a silence; the music rang out more,distinctly ; it seemed to say to Fran- cesca: "After all, 'tis hollow kind of mer- riment, but we are bound to go on. yhe fiddler is longing to get home to his dying wife, but he must play on to the end! And the dancers have aching hearts, but they must dance, dance, and. be merry. This is pleasure, you know ---the world's pleasure 1" You.see," said Enrico, "the world hail always been very kind to you, and so you have been deceiye,d. People naturally make much of you, and that, of course, is plc asant." • "1. don't think I can ever enjoy anything again," said Francesca, with the firm con- viction of two -and -twenty that the particu- lar cloud in its sky is going to prove more powerful than the sun. But there was, nevertheless, some truth in her remark- She would enjoy again, .but never in the same way; she would enjoy as a woman, but never again as a, happily ignorant girl, "Everything seems hollow and unreal," she went .on : "1 have believed it,a,11 so much !" "You must not let me convert you to my creed," said Enrico, with a smile, " or how could I ever face Carlo? It is an odd eoie- cidence that while you, through this busi- ness, get your first glimpse behind the world's scenes, and are disillusioned, I, in •watching you and Carlo, have felt almost ready to throw over my pet theory of uni- versal egoism." " What 'arguments you and Carlo used to have in the old days,"said Francesca, re- covering herself, anfeeling much cheered by his words. Then, with a little, sniile, she added t "1 have been talking just like a horrid old woman we used to know in England. I wished her merry Christina,s one day, and she shook her head and looked so glum as she grumbled out erry Christ- mas indeed ! There's no merriment in this world.' I do hope I sha'n't grow like her." Enrico laughed.. I shall tell Carlo that story when next I write. You will not allow me to send any message from you I suppose ?" " No, I can't do that," she sighed ; he knows I can't. But oh, Enrico, it is such comfort to know that you write to him. Write of ten—prom ise to w ri te of ten. " Once again they talked over all the news in Carlo's letters; then, leaving the flowery retreat; made their way back to the crowded rooms. Francesca was speedily claimed by her next pa.rtner, and Enrico leaned meditatively against the wall, watch- ing the gay scene and musing over that ,pathetic complaint which the girl had made to him: "They have taken the sweetness out of everything." Years after, if any one had asked him what was the most touching sight he had ever seen, there would heve arisen in h-rs mind a picture of that gayly -lighted ballroom and of krhainech,esca'sspi teo sweet,f sad face, upon w' all her efforts,•there yet -lingered the traces of tears. Again and again she was whirled past him, her feet flew over the ground, hut her face always bore the same expression, and he kliew well that it was only a sense of duty which kept her up, and that she danced with a sore heart,. , CHAPTER XIX. • Of sbernaisens— hefghtened, keener nerves and Suffer and love, love much and suffer long— And live through all, and at the last be strong? ** Thou shalt need all the strength that Gh;c1 can .we -"- Mormesee vefriendasiraplyeto -live. • - - - Shocking murder tee _. t„ Life." -F. W. IL cheerful announcement, in TiK.. of a newspaper boy, awoke Carve morning early in the autumn to the recol- lection that he was in England. He started broad awake in a moment from dreams of Francesca and Casa Bella, and with a pang of realization, to which he was now too well accustomed, knew that he was altogether parted from her, and looked with blank, hopeless, miserable depression round the unfamiliar hotel room. It Was one of those narrow, gloomy places often met with in inns. At the' foot of his own narrow, iron bedstead was a seconL just as narrow, and though the general im- pression conveyed was of meagre bareness in respect to the furniture, yet one felt cramped and oppressed by the proportions of the room. "Soles and whiting ! soles and whiting !" sang a nasal -voiced fishwoman in the street. And then, after; an interval, came a cry so einxgt7mely comic that Carlo burst out laugh. "Are you awake, San Carlo ?" exclaimed Gigi, appeariog, with the suddenness of a Jack -in -the box, from beneath the clothes on the other bed. " Giusto Cielo ! what can the woman be calling.?" said Carlo. " Gigi, it you •love me jump out of bed and see rt Gigi, nothing loath, sprung up and darted to the window.6.J " It's black thittgs in a basket," he an- nounced. "0', now I can hear what she says ; it is Pickled cockles ! pickled cockles 1" By the time the cry had died away in the di stance Carlo was grave and depressed again ; he tried to live through his dream once more, and to forget the distasteful reality, while all the time he was listlessly , •watching Gigi in the performance of. his , toilet, a eight which might well have tickled the gravity of an unaccustomed observer. Necessity had taught the little fellow to be far more handy than most children of his age, and now that Carlo had instilled into his mind the duties of cleanliness and godli- ness, his business -like way of setting to work was most edifying, beginning sedulously with soap and water, and ending with the Paternoster," which Carlo had taught him in Italian. The place seemed to grow less desolate as the child very slowly and deliberately re- peated the familiar words, and Carlo's heart grew lighter. True, he had as yet made no way at all with Anita, and the future still looked black' and unpromising, but at any rate Gigi was the, better for the change of baritones; and what right had he to fear for the result of work which he had begun in obedience to a direct call? Peeciocche tuo e iI regno, e la potenza, e ta eerie, in Seinpiterno. Arnen," re- peated. Gigi; then springing to his feet, and relapsing into English, "May I go down ,and play, San Carlo?" Carlo patted the little brown head. • "• Why, yes, to be sure, old man, take your soldiers and play in the coffee -room. I'll be down directly !' • " It's as goo,d as a play to see how that fel- low can turn Merlino round his finger! And all the time the old brute treats him like a dog. I'm hanged if I understand how Val- entine does it, and how he keeps his temper, for he's got a pretty hot one, for all his sweetness. Jove! I should just like to poke the devil up in him for once and see what he'd do. He's'none bf your milk -and -water saints or he could never act as he does." But if to Sardoni, who held the key to the enigma,'Callo's character and life were perplexing, to the rest of the troupe they were altogether incomprehensible. . Some of them admired him; others found his unsel- fishness convenient, and did not scruple to trade on it; others were jealous of his suc- cess, aiyd suspected him of .trying to curry favor with ,Merlino ; and though, ,before long, all except Gomez had ' been ,so far conquered by the charm of his manner as to treathim with friendly familiarity, not one of • ihem was capable of fathoming the beauty of his • character. He was merely, in their eyes, a pleasant exchange Apr Comerio—a youngster who, at present, seemed unspoiled by his success, •a good traveling companion, .who was always ready to make fun of pettAdil- comforts, and who seemed quite natu4I1y, and with an utter absence of ostentation, to take upon himself the "dirty work" of the, company. Sardoni was the only one who troubled himself"to wonder about the new baritone ; he could not have told why' it was that he had from the very first been in attracted by him, but the attraction only grew more powerful the more he saw of him, and his reckle'ss norichalrtuce was fast melting away in the deep interest of his half•avowed friendship. He could have laughed at him- self for being so absorbed in the study of a fellow -actor that his ordinary pleasures palled"upon him ; but there was no disput- ing the fact, and when Carlo was near he was always conscious of a. sort of fascination which compelled him to throw off his cold indifference, which roused him into a pleas- ant warmth of wonder, and made' him look and listen, aud wait upon Donati's utter- ances as thongli they were most remarkable. And this, to tell the truth, they seldom were, for Carlo was not particularly intel- lectual, neither was he brilliant and ea.ey ; it was rather that he was what the Itieffans call " sinvpatica," and full of an undefined charm which made him as lovable as he was incomprehensible., He came in soon after, looking fagged and much inclined for a peaceful cigar. (To be oort'nrund.) _ ti IN I:NI:LAND. And hest thou chosen then ? Canst t hon en- , d 'vitt? The Purging °bongo of frost and (talent ure . Accept the sick recoil the etelry pal II Friendly with the Wrong; Man. Brown has a great friendshipforesTertes but hates Smith. Why is it ?" . "Smith eadd Brown .wasn't fit to carry swill to a hog." yee!, " 'Jones said he was." She Appreciated Ri4 Mrs. Crimmins (at 2 a. m.) --Is that you, jame,8 L .TameaYesh (hie), m'dear. Mrs. Crimmins—Well, lock the gal and turn out I he_cloor and—Judfp. The man who dies young will not be obliged to dye when he is old.