y contented. Is it not so, Enrico?"

I replied that it was. "Always perfectly contented," repeated Silvia,
closing mamma's mouth with one hand. "And if there are any other
sacrifices to be made, either in the matter of clothing or anything
else, we will make them gladly; and we will even sell our presents; I
will give up all my things, I will serve you as your maid, we will not
have anything done out of the house any more, I will work all day long
with you, I will do everything you wish, I am ready for anything! For
anything!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around my mother's neck, "if
papa and mamma can only be saved further troubles, if I can only behold
you both once more at ease, and in good spirits, as in former days,
between your Silvia and your Enrico, who love you so dearly, who would
give their lives for you!"

Ah! I have never seen my mother so happy as she was on hearing these
words; she never before kissed us on the brow in that way, weeping and
laughing, and incapable of speech. And then she assured Silvia that she
had not understood rightly; that we were not in the least reduced in
circumstances, as she imagined; and she thanked us a hundred times, and
was cheerful all the evening, until my father came in, when she told him
all about it. He did not open his mouth, poor father! But this morning,
as we sat at the table, I felt at once both a great pleasure and a great
sadness: under my napkin I found my box of colors, and under hers,
Silvia found her fan.

THE FIRE.

Thursday, 11th.

This morning I had finished copying my share of the story, _From the
Apennines to the Andes_, and was seeking for a theme for the independent
composition which the teacher had assigned us to write, when I heard an
unusual talking on the stairs, and shortly after two firemen entered the
house, and asked permission of my father to inspect the stoves and
chimneys, because a smoke-pipe was on fire on the roof, and they could
not tell to whom it belonged.

My father said, "Pray do so." And although we had no fire burning
anywhere, they began to make the round of our apartments, and to lay
their ears to the walls, to hear if the fire was roaring in the flues
which run up to the other floors of the house.

And while they were going through the rooms, my father said to me, "Here
is a theme for your composition, Enrico,--the firemen. Try to write down
what I am about to tell you.

"I saw them at work two years ago, one