I saw that medal--Ah!
thou little lad of mine, no bigger than a soldo[1] of cheese, come
hither, that I may take a good look at thy phiz!"

[1] The twentieth part of a cubit; Florentine measure.

The boy ran to him instantly; the smith took him and set him directly on
the anvil, holding him under the arms, and said to him:--

"Polish off the frontispiece of this big beast of a daddy of yours a
little!"

And then Precossi covered his father's black face with kisses, until he
was all black himself.

"That's as it should be," said the smith, and he set him on the ground
again.

"That really is as it should be, Precossi!" exclaimed my father,
delighted. And bidding the smith and his son good day, he led me away.
As I was going out, little Precossi said to me, "Excuse me," and thrust
a little packet of nails into my pocket. I invited him to come and view
the Carnival from my house.

"You gave him your railway train," my father said to me in the street;
"but if it had been made of gold and filled with pearls, it would still
have been but a petty gift to that sainted son, who has reformed his
father's heart."

THE LITTLE HARLEQUIN.

Monday, 20th.

The whole city is in a tumult over the Carnival, which is nearing its
close. In every square rise booths of mountebanks and jesters; and we
have under our windows a circus-tent, in which a little Venetian
company, with five horses, is giving a show. The circus is in the centre
of the square; and in one corner there are three very large vans in
which the mountebanks sleep and dress themselves,--three small houses on
wheels, with their tiny windows, and a chimney in each of them, which
smokes continually; and between window and window the baby's
swaddling-bands are stretched. There is one woman who is nursing a
child, who prepares the food, and dances on the tight-rope. Poor people!
The word _mountebank_ is spoken as though it were an insult; but they
earn their living honestly, nevertheless, by amusing all the world--and
how they work! All day long they run back and forth between the
circus-tent and the vans, in tights, in all this cold; they snatch a
mouthful or two in haste, standing, between two performances; and
sometimes, when they get their tent full, a wind arises, wrenches away
the ropes and extinguishes the lights, and then good by to the show!
They are obliged to return the money, and to work the entire night at
repairing their booth. There are two l