the principal inn at Ruthyn. We occasionally spoke a little Welsh. At
length the landlady said, "There is an Italian in the kitchen who can
speak Welsh too. It's odd the only two people not Welshmen I have ever
known who could speak Welsh, for such you and he are, should be in my
house at the same time."

"Dear me," said I; "I should like to see him."

"That you can easily do," said the girl; "I daresay he will be glad
enough to come in if you invite him."

"Pray take my compliments to him," said I, "and tell him that I shall be
glad of his company."

The girl went out and presently returned with the Italian. He was a
short, thick, strongly-built fellow of about thirty-seven, with a swarthy
face, raven-black hair, high forehead, and dark deep eyes, full of
intelligence and great determination. He was dressed in a velveteen
coat, with broad lappets, red waistcoat, velveteen breeches, buttoning a
little way below the knee; white stockings apparently of lamb's-wool and
high-lows.

"Buona sera?" said I.

"Buona sera, signore!" said the Italian.

"Will you have a glass of brandy and water?" said I in English.

"I never refuse a good offer," said the Italian.

He sat down, and I ordered a glass of brandy and water for him and
another for myself.

"Pray speak a little Italian to him," said the good landlady to me. "I
have heard a great deal about the beauty of that language, and should
like to hear it spoken."

"From the Lago di Como?" said I, trying to speak Italian.

"Si, signore! but how came you to think that I was from the Lake of
Como?"

"Because," said I, "when I was a ragazzo I knew many from the Lake of
Como, who dressed much like yourself. They wandered about the country
with boxes on their backs and weather-glasses in their hands, but had
their head-quarters at N. where I lived."

"Do you remember any of their names?" said the Italian.

"Giovanni Gestra and Luigi Pozzi," I replied.

"I have seen Giovanni Gestra myself," said the Italian, "and I have heard
of Luigi Pozzi. Giovanni Gestra returned to the Lago--but no one knows
what is become of Luigi Pozzi."

"The last time I saw him," said I, "was about eighteen years ago at
Coruna in Spain; he was then in a sad drooping condition, and said he
bitterly repented ever quitting N."

"E con ragione," said the Italian, "for there is no place like N. for
doing business in the whole world. I myself have sold seventy pounds'
worth of weather-