gh they had run away from home. Some
wear the white gymnasium suit. There is one of Schoolmistress Delcati's
boys who is red from head to foot, like a boiled crab. Several are
dressed like sailors.

But the finest of all is the little mason, who has donned a big straw
hat, which gives him the appearance of a half-candle with a shade over
it; and it is ridiculous to see him make his hare's face beneath it.
Coretti, too, has abandoned his catskin cap, and wears an old
travelling-cap of gray silk. Votini has a sort of Scotch dress, all
decorated; Crossi displays his bare breast; Precossi is lost inside of a
blue blouse belonging to the blacksmith-ironmonger.

And Garoffi? Now that he has been obliged to discard the cloak beneath
which he concealed his wares, all his pockets are visible, bulging with
all sorts of huckster's trifles, and the lists of his lotteries force
themselves out. Now all his pockets allow their contents to be
seen,--fans made of half a newspaper, knobs of canes, darts to fire at
birds, herbs, and maybugs which creep out of his pockets and crawl
gradually over the jackets.

Many of the little fellows carry bunches of flowers to the mistresses.
The mistresses are dressed in summer garments also, of cheerful tints;
all except the "little nun," who is always in black; and the mistress
with the red feather still has her red feather, and a knot of red ribbon
at her neck, all tumbled with the little paws of her scholars, who
always make her laugh and flee.

It is the season, too, of cherry-trees, of butterflies, of music in the
streets, and of rambles in the country; many of the fourth grade run
away to bathe in the Po; all have their hearts already set on the
vacation; each day they issue forth from school more impatient and
content than the day before. Only it pains me to see Garrone in
mourning, and my poor mistress of the primary, who is thinner and whiter
than ever, and who coughs with ever-increasing violence. She walks all
bent over now, and salutes me so sadly!

POETRY.

Friday, 26th.

You are now beginning to comprehend the poetry of school, Enrico;
but at present you only survey the school from within. It will seem
much more beautiful and more poetic to you twenty years from now,
when you go thither to escort your own boys; and you will then
survey it from the outside, as I do. While waiting for school to
close, I wander about the silent street, in the vi