ment
and although we hoped that he would obey his master and do honor to the
occasion, he did nothing of the kind. On the contrary, instead of lying
down and humming he stood up his full height on his hind legs and began
to waltz, swaying his long, plump body and shaking his thick, brown
fur.

He opened his mouth wide, showing his white teeth and his great red
tongue, and looked as if he were laughing and as if it was the funniest
thing in the world that he was doing.

"He does not seem to be very obedient," smiled her Majesty.

"He is afraid," said the man, trying to make excuses for his pet.

"You must come again," said the Queen, "when your bear is better
trained," and, turning to Signor Borea (her chamberlain), told him to
give the man some money and direct him to the forester's lodge, where
some food should be given to him.

The young Italian's face beamed with joy when he beheld the vast sum
(twenty lire) he had received, and led his disobedient companion away
in disgrace; but the bear, quite unconscious of being in disgrace,
turned his head for a last friendly glance, walked on his hind legs in
his clumsy and swaggering manner, but with a certain dignity, down the
avenue.

The King, who was with us on the terrace, had been a silent witness of
the whole scene, and, not being able to resist the promptings of his
kind heart, followed the couple. We saw him put a gold piece in the
brown palm of the poor fellow, whose "only friend" had failed him on
this unique occasion. He seemed quite overcome by this Danae-like
shower of gold, and hesitated before taking the piece, thinking,
perhaps, that on this occasion honesty might be the best policy, and
said:

"The Queen has already given me much."

"That does not matter," said the King. "You must take what _I_ give
you. Do you know who I am?"

"No, signor. Are you Garibaldi?"

The King laughed. "No, I am not Garibaldi; I am the King."

This second surprise was too much for the little man, and he almost
fell down in his emotion.

What his dreams were that night must have been like one of the Arabian
Nights.

REGGIO, _October 17th_.

Dear ----,--Count Spaletti has a very fine _chateau_ (a large park and
a beautiful forest), where he and his family live in patriarchal style.
It is the true Italian traditional home-life in every respect.

There is on the farm a large building in which the famous Parmesan
cheese is made. We were shown the entire process fro