music ceased and the Italian prepared to
make his bow and quit the scene, "I must make that gentleman's
acquaintance."

Buttons walked up to the organ-grinder.

"Be my interpreter," said the Senator. "Introduce me."

"What's your name?" asked Buttons.

"Maffeo Cloto."

"From where?"

"Urbino."

"Were you ever in America?"

"No, Signore."

"What does he say?" asked the Senator, impatiently.

"He says his name is Mr. Cloto, and he was never in America."

"How did you get these tunes?"

"Out of my organ," said the Italian, grinning.

"Of course; but how did you happen to get an organ with such tunes?"

"I bought it."

"Oh yes; but how did you happen to buy one with these tunes?"

"For you illustrious American Signore. You all like to hear them."

"Do you know any thing about the tunes?"

"Signore?"

"Do you know what the words are?"

"Oh no. I am an Italian."

"I suppose you make money out of them."

"I make more in a day with these than I could in a week with other
tunes."

"You lay up money, I suppose."

"Oh yes. In two years I will retire and let my younger brother play
here."

"These tunes?"

"Yes, Signore."

"To Americans?"

"Yes, Signore."

"What is it all?" asked the Senator.

"He says that he finds he makes money by playing American tunes to
Americans."

"Hm," said the Senator, with some displeasure; "and he has no soul
then to see the--the beauty, the sentiment, the grandeur of his
vocation!"

"Not a bit--he only goes in for money."

The Senator turned away in disgust. "Yankee Doodle," he murmured,
"ought of itself to have a refining and converting influence on the
European mind; but it is too debased--yes--yes--too debased."

CHAPTER XXII.

HOW A BARGAIN IS MADE.--THE WILES OF THE ITALIAN TRADESMAN.--THE NAKED
SULKY BEGGAR, AND THE JOVIAL WELL-CLAD BEGGAR.--WHO IS THE KING OF
BEGGARS?

"What are you thinking about, Buttons?"

"Well, Dick, to tell the truth, I have been thinking that if I do
find the Spaniards they won't have reason to be particularly proud of
me as a companion. Look at me."

"I look, and to be frank, my dear boy, I must say that you look more
shabby-genteel than otherwise."

"That's the result of travelling on one suit of clothes--without
considering fighting. I give up my theory."

"Give it up, then, and come out as a butterfly."

"Friend of my soul, the die is cast. Come forth with me and seek a
clothing-store."

It was no