ard, and ejaculated--

"Gh-h-h-r-r-r-r-r-acious me!"

At length he seemed to recover his faculties, and discovered that he
was not hurt. Upon this he assured Mr. Figgs, in heavy guttural
English, that it was nothing. He had often been knocked down before.
If Mr. Figgs was a Frenchman, he would feel angry. But as he was an
American he was glad to make his acquaintance. He himself had once
lived in America, in Cincinnati, where he had edited a German paper.
His name was Meinherr Schatt.

Meinherr Schatt showed no further disposition to go up; but
descended with the others down as far as the roof, when they went to
the front and stood looking down on the piazza. In the course of
conversation Meinherr Schatt informed them that he belonged to the
Duchy of Saxe Meiningen, that he had been living in Rome about two
years, and liked it about as well as any place that he had seen.

He went every autumn to Paris to speculate on the Bourse, and
generally made enough to keep him for a year. He was acquainted with
all the artists in Rome. Would they like to be introduced to some
of them?

[Illustration: Gracious Me!]

Buttons would be most charmed. He would rather become acquainted
with artists than with any class of people.

Meinherr Schatt lamented deeply the present state of things arising
from the war in Lombardy. A peaceful German traveller was scarcely
safe now. Little boys made faces at him in the street, and shouted
after him, "Mudedetto Tedescho!"

Just at this moment the eye of Buttons was attracted by a carriage
that rolled away from under the front of the cathedral down the
piazza. In it were two ladies and a gentleman. Buttons stared eagerly
for a few moments, and then gave a jump.

"What's the matter?" cried Dick.

"It is! By Jove! It is!"

"What? Who?"

"I see her face! I'm off!"

"Confound it! Whose face?"

But Buttons gave no answer. He was off like the wind, and before the
others could recover from their surprise had vanished down the
descent.

"What upon airth has possessed Buttons now?" asked the Senator.

"It must be the Spanish girl," said Dick.

"Again? Hasn't his mad chase at sea given him a lesson? Spanish
girl! What is he after? If he wants a girl, why can't he wait and
pick out a regular thorough-bred out and outer of Yankee stock?
These Spaniards are not the right sort."

In an incredible short space of time the figure of Buttons was
seen dashing down the piazza, in the direct