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young, I know, and not very wise; I cannot do great things; but I can do what I see is to be done." (The little Joanna was wiser than she knew.) "The poor grandmamma was never unkind to me, and she is all alone. I can try to be a comfort to her, and begin to live for something."

"Is there nothing else you can accomplish in your zeal to do good, Joanna ?" said he, eagerly. "Can you not plead mine and your sister's cause? Joanna, you must talk to my mother; you must talk to your aunt; you are in high favor now, and you ought to be willing to atone for the mischief you did

us."

"People should be married respectably at home," said this proper young maiden. "But I will talk to Pamela and to my aunt, if you think it would make Anita happy."

"I'm not so very sure about that," said Anita, mockingly.-"Joanna, you wretched little marplot! I might have married a poor Inan from disinterested affection; but now this wicked world, with Aurelia Caruthers at their head, will brand me as a mercenary creature-why, don't you know how ardently she espouses Sam Ruffner's cause?"

"I shouldn't mind Aurelia Caruthers," said Joanna, loftily. And then she went to talk to Pamela and her aunt; and, of course, she carried her point.

But when Miss Hawkesby, whose heart was now ardently set upon having her longneglected little niece to live with her, would fain have persuaded Joanna to leave the care of Mrs. Basil to some more competent person, she received only the solemn answer, "I must live for something." Then Miss Hawkesby entreated Mrs. Stargold to reason with Joanna; but the consequence was, that Mrs. Stargold became Joanna's champion.

"None of you can understand this child as I do," said she-" I, who have just tasted the supreme satisfaction of abjuring my own advantage for the sake of others. Joanna must not be denied a like satisfaction, say I; who can estimate the good it may do her? Joanna must have her way in this." To Mrs. Hendall and Miss Hawkesby she said, privately, "It can last but a little while, and we must so arrange as to relieve the child of all care and responsibility." And so Joanna had her way.

It was arranged, then, upon consultation with Arthur Hendall, who had been sent for in baste, that Mrs. Basil should have a competent attendant and nurse. Then Pamela's son wished to devote some of his unexpected wealth to Joanna's benefit. But in this, young-man-like, he bungled sadly. He owed so much, he said, to the good old judge, that Joanna ought to be willing to let him afford her the means of improving her education; whereupon old Miss Hawkesby took fire, and indignantly declared that her niece should never be indebted to him for any such thing; that since Joanna was obstinately bent upon secluding herself at Basil wood, she, her aunt, should see that a fitting governess was installed to watch over the child. "Do not I know everybody?" cried she. "And are there not numbers of impoverished women among our best families who would be thankful to occupy such a place? Leave that to

me, my young friend, and don't concern yourself about matters too high for you. You'll find Anita quite enough to manage."

"Thank you, aunt," said Anita. "You are a wise woman in your predictions; you always said I never should be Mrs. Basil Redmond."

"Well, well," said Miss Hawkesby, "I always knew you must sooner or later acknowledge my wisdom. And so, you'll see, I'll put the right woman in the right place when I engage a governess for our Joanna."

So, Miss Hawkesby, before she returned to the world where she knew everybody, consoled herself for the forfeiture of Joanna, by installing one of those numerous acquaintances as duenna; and Joanna, under this lady's protecting presence, quietly settled down to her new life, not a sad one by any means. For, though Mrs. Basil never left her room again while she lived, she so far recovered as to be able to occupy the wheeledchair that Arthur sent her, and to prattle mildly about the little interests that Joanna, by dint of birds, flowers, pictures, and fancywork, contrived to create for her. Her mind had received an irreparable shock; she had no recollection of what had befallen her; but she seemed, in some confused way, to identify Joanna with Arthur, and her only fear was that Miss Hawkesby would come and take away the companion of her solitude.

Mrs. Stargold and her new-found relatives went to a place near by, which they repaired and made their permanent residence. The Ruffners departed precipitately for Westport. If they had wished to ignore Francis Hendall's widow and son, they must have found that the public sentiment of Middleborough, led by Mrs. Carl Tomkins, was too strong for them to resist. It was impossible, while that all-pervading spirit claimed to inspire society in our town, to deny that Mrs. Francis Hendall's remarkable character and extraordinary abilities amply entitled her to Fortune's favors. And this sentiment Mrs. Carl Tomkins took occasion to propagate betimes, as she went from house to house, a few days after the storm, asking contributions to an ice-cream supper to be given in connection with the postponed tableaux, for the purpose of reestablishing the bridge on a sure and firm basis. Such an opportunity for a display of public spirit was not to be neglected by a woman of Mrs. Carl Tomkins's capacity for business.

To this entertainment Joanna went; and she would not have been Joanna if she had not keenly enjoyed the crowd, the excitement, the dazzle, and blaze, and the perfection of her toilet, that Anita herself superintended; but these delights could not shake her purpose to remain with Mrs. Basil. And not even the glory of acting as first bride'smaid to Anita, attired in the white organdie and scarlet geraniums, could make her repent her choice to stay with the grandmamma until she should need her no more. Indeed, nobody could supply her place to Mrs. Basil; and, though Mrs. Francis Hendall or Mrs. Stargold came for a few moments every day, they had many other interests to absorb their time and attention, and Joanna, for the most part, was left alone with her afflicted charge,

who would not endure the presence of Miss Hawkesby's friend the governess.

The waning summer changed to autumn, and autumn gave place to winter, and winter yielded to spring, and spring grew into summer again. And all this time there was little perceptible alteration in the condition of the poor paralytic; but in Joanna what a wondrous change was wrought! What a calm and star-like beauty shone in that thin, brown face of hers, thinner now, and paler, for lack of that freedom of the garden, the one great boon that inspired her gratitude to the grandmamma, who moaned and whimpered when her tender little ministrant left her, and smiled and feebly stretched out her almost useless hands in welcome when she came again. In all this, Joanna found a heavenly joy the garden could never yield, even in the time of apple-blooms.

And Arthur Hendall, who in the beginning paid short duty-visits at long intervals, came oftener at last, and staid longer, in spite of that watchful dragon, the governess, Miss Hawkesby's friend, who, if the truth be told, entertained rather a motherly weakness for Arthur, and favored him above everybody else. For, if Middleborough gossip may be believed, Joanna was not without abundant temptation to abandon her self-imposed service. Sam Ruffner, learning (from his mother, probably, through Lydia Crane) that Miss Hawkesby regarded this niece with peculiar favor, and that Mrs. Francis Hendall still kept up the insurance on her life, quickly recovered from the depression caused by Anita's marriage, and, under pretense of solicitude for his afflicted relative, came up from Westport to pay his court to Joanna. Also Dr. Garnet, although Dame Rumor had so long devoted him to Aurelia Caruthers, offered to endow the judge's penniless granddaughter with his name and all his worldly possessions; and nervous little Mr. Leasom prayed her to share his quiet life.

Time was when these conquests, inasmuch as they implied no badly-broken hearts, would have filled Joanna's soul with exultation; but now they were more a source of trial than of triumph. "I shall never marry," she declared; but she afterward modified this assertion so far as to say to Arthur, "I shall never marry while the grandmamma lives" which amendment Arthur did not permit her to forget when Mrs. Basil, in the early autumn, was laid in the grave that so surprised us by its shortness, proving that the stately lady who carried the ivory-headed staff with so grand an air was, after all, a woman of few inches.

"You say you must live for something, Joanna," said he, "and all this time you have been living for my aunt. So, by your own showing, to live for something means simply to live for somebody; and you may as well live for me."

And what did Miss Hawkesby say to this? “Well, Joanna, I suppose I am old, as you reminded me more than a year ago; but I'm not in my dotage, and I'm not going to oppose any young woman so bent on having her own way."

And Mrs. Francis Hendall, a sort of elevated and modified Pamela: "I hope, Jo

anna, that you will consider the solemnity of the step you are about to take, and not enter the holy estate of matrimony rashly nor from motives of vanity."

"And I shall take care that you are married respectably at home," cries Anita.

THE END.

not the season, and after an hour or two of vigorous conversation we retired, disgusted, to the café, and put on native airs by stirring our ices into our glasses of water, and smoking the long, shapeless cigars. At last the patience of my friend gave out, and he retired to sleep, leaving me to settle the affair as best I could. This was the question, simple enough too: Given the fair price, ten francs; the price

A FOURTH OF JULY IN charged, twenty francs; the upholders of

SAN MARINO.

ALL Rimini slumbered as we rattled

through the town early one dark morn

ing on the Fourth of July. It seemed as if the city had slept for ages. To be sure, its grass-grown streets, terminating in broad fields and richly cultivated gardens, are rarely disturbed by the rumble of wheels, and even the chief squares and broadest thoroughfares are only alive on the occasion of a country fair or a market-day. Nature seems to be gradually claiming its own, for the green fields creep farther and farther through the tumble-down gates, and the ambitious weeds and grass hide the pavingstones for a long distance cityward. On the water-side the crumbling quays and neglected walls induce the belief that the sea will finally reclaim its share of the heaped up monuments of pride and wealth that distinguished the town in its days of prosperity, and now mark it as one of the most interesting cities in Northern Italy. Pilgrims find, in the stately old piazza Giulio Cesare, the rostrum from which Cæsar harangued the soldiers after crossing the neighboring Rubicon; and the more devout pay homage to the spot where St. Anthony preached to the fishes. So the town has its quota of interesting curiosities, quite in proportion to its size. Comparatively few strangers, however, are drawn thither by this brief list of unique attractions, and the stock sights are not important enough to be generally considered worth "doing." Perhaps the city seemed all the more sleepy on the gray morning of which I write, because of the contrast with the evening previous. The excitement caused by the arrival of two strangers out of season had subsided by ten o'clock in the evening, and before that hour all the town-people, and, I am almost ready to say, all their country relatives besides, were talking about us quietly but earnestly. They spotted us at the railway-station, of course, for didn't we wear garments of the Venetian cut, and wasn't our language, not to speak of the accent, quite as mongrel as two years' residence among the peasants in the different provinces could make it? A promiscuous rabble had followed us up to the hotel, resolved to carry for us, against our will, our hand-bags and umbrellas. But we triumphed, for we fought commissionnaires and guides all these seasons, and weren't to be caught in Rimini.

San Marino was to be the end of our pilgrimage, and we spent the first part of the evening in trying to drive a sharp bargain with the army of cabmen who stood ready to take us to the republic at daybreak the next day. The "ring system " was in full operation, notwithstanding the fact that it was

high tariff, the numerous body of voluble vetturini; the stickler for a fair recompense and champion of travelers' rights, a simple American citizen, with only a couple of score of oaths at command, and a very limited Vocabulary of the dialect of the district. I had served out all my Neapolitan signs, I had exhausted my oaths, and had emphasized them by constant and rapid repetition. The enemy had driven me into the café, and it was a drawn game.

Shortly after my friend had retired, a smartly-dressed young fellow sat down at the little table I partly occupied, took up a newspaper, read a little, and soon began to talk. After a few commonplaces exchanged between us, he led off with

"Is the signore a stranger?"
"He certainly is," I replied.

"Excuse me, but is he a foreigner?" and the questioner assumed a somewhat patronizing air.

"Pardon me, my friend," I said, with as much dignity as I could command, having from the first put my examiner down as a commissionnaire, on account of the loudness of his necktie and the cast-off foreign look of his garments; "of course you know I am a foreigner; you have heard me speak. Now, what have you to sell? I don't want to buy any thing. Are you a guide? I don't want to engage one-I know this country. Are you an hotel-runner? I have an hotel; " and I answered my own questions in rapid succession.

My chipper friend stroked his green necktie, pulled his coat-English cut-together, glanced at each shoulder, and replied, this time rather humbly, and with a your-servantsir air:

"But the signore forestiere speaks such perfect Italian" (the stock compliment), "that I did not-that is-perhaps his excellency might not be aware that the republic of San Marino is near by, and if his excelleney would condescend to take a carriage to visit this great and wonderful place, I might be so bold as to offer him my humble and gratuitous assistance in procuring one;" and, he having here reached the perigee of humility, I was exhausted enough from my evening's work to nibble at the bait he held out in spite of my well-founded distrust of commissionnaires.

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"Perhaps for sixteen francs, signore." Dumb-show on my part again, and expres sion of rigid determination on my face. "Possibly a very bad carriage for fourteen, signore."

Dumb-show repeated, with exaggerated grimaces on my part.

"A wretched trap for twelve is not impossible, signore."

Another show of hands, and the young man retired with great dismay before the expression of my countenance, expressing as he went the most polite regret at the small success of our bargaining.

As I expected, he returned shortly to offer the carriage again for twelve francs.

"I'll give ten," and once more I added the dumb-show.

A second exit and a second return fol lowed, and, convinced at last that the lowest was reached, I concluded to open negotiations on that basis.

"What commission do you get if I take the carriage?" I asked.

"Not a soldo, your excellency." "You do this for charity, then?" "The driver is my brother" (the stock reply).

We settled about the horse, the wagon, the time, and all, not forgetting to stipulate that there should be no buona mano, or fee, and I went to bed with a mixed feeling of satisfaction at having concluded a bargain, and of disgust at myself for having employed a go-between. At four A. M. the next day the same smart young fellow, with his hat a bit more on one side, his green necktie in exactly the same folds as on the day before, and his dainty cane twirling in his fingers, came into our room at the hotel, and announced that the team was in readiness. We consulted a moment about the weather, for it was raining; concluded to risk its clearing up at noon; crawled into the damp carriage, bade good-by to our jaunty friend, and rattled off toward San Marino. That is how we happened to be in the streets of Rimini at such an early hour on a rainy Fourth of July.

The country back of Rimini is rolling; the hills, for the most part covered with a profusion of trees and rich vegetation, rise higher and higher as they recede from the coast, until they culminate in the serrated peaks of the Apennines. At occasional intervals a sharp peak, crowned with a town or a ruined castle, rises far above the neighboring round summits, and carries the eye to the hazy mountain-tops in the horizon. The most prominent of all these isolated peaks is a long, irregular bluff, with steep, rocky precipices and three prominent summits. This is the citadel and town of San Marino, a landmark along the coast for many leagues, distinctly visible far beyond Ravenna, and, from its peculiar form and remarkable height, is a noticeable feature of the landscape seen from the sea-shore or the mountain-tops.

As we left the town that rainy morning and wound along between the dripping hedgerows and over the soaked fields, we could see at every turn a great blue wall of rock, a dozen miles away, standing boldly out against the gray sky, its summit veiled by a long bank of dense clouds, and its cold, dark sides

contrasting strongly with the hazy distance beyond and the yellow of the ripening harvests at its base. From this distance the path leading to the top was not visible, and the town itself was completely hidden by the rolling vapor. Only a delicate line across the broad fields that lie at the foot of the precipices marked the way we were to take, and this seemed to have no origin, and to lose itself in the accumulation at the base of the great cliffs. After a brisk drive of an hour, we crossed a little stone bridge, and our driver, who was not disposed to be overcommunicative, solemnly announced that we were in the republic. We removed our hats, rose in the carriage, and bowed to the landscape and to the bright sun just then struggling through the clouds and dispelling the storm. The mighty, cloud - compelling rock displayed now all its burden of turrets and spires and roofs, and the flakes of broken clouds trailed slowly along the flanks of the far-off mountains. We saw that the welcome was a glorious one, yet were not too enthusiastic, for we must think, in spite of ourselves, that it was a conventional thing after all, a job put up for the benefit of all travelers who are cursed with bad weather on their way to the republic. It was such an every. day performance on the part of the sun to come out pat just at the instant! A few moments later, and we halted in the little village of Serravalle, the counterpart of all Italian villages, a single paved street, a dazzling extent of whitewashed walls, a tumbledown inn, a few wine-shops, a Spaccio di Tobacco e Sale, and a public well. Our driver disappeared in an instant, and we sought to pass the time in the wine-shop opposite our halting-place. A gray-bearded man stood in the doorway. An impulse to interview seized me, and I began :

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He smiled at my choice of titles, and asked me in return if I was also a citizen. "Yes; of the United States of America." The republican lifted his hat at the last words with evident respect for the name of the great republic, and his earnestness gave me quite a twinge at the recollection of the somewhat mock reverence we had displayed on our entrance to the tiny country. needed no further introduction, and from the moment we made known our nationality we were received as friends by the veteran republican and all his family and neighbors, who soon crowded the little wine-shop to listen to the conversation. It could not have been our imagination that invested these Italian republicans with a character at once nobler, broader, and more manly than we found in their neighbors, for our later experience proved to us that the Sammarinese are distinct from the Italian subjects in just the degree and kind of attributes likely to be engendered by their universal pride of country and institutions, by their self-reliance and traditional freedom. Our conversation with the veteran was very entertaining, and we were just beginning to find out that the fact of being a republican in the heart of a monarchy filled the fortunate individual with a sense of his position, when the driver popped his head into the door, announced that the

team was ready, gulped down a tumblerful of water and mistra, and we reluctantly followed him.

Our amazement at finding a pair of stout gray oxen hitched in front of our horse may be imagined. We naturally railed at the idea of dragging a light, single-seated carriage with a heavy yoke of oxen and a horse, we chaffed the driver about his animals, and loudly scorned the steepness of the ascent in front of us. But, long before we reached the end of this last league, we found reason to change our tune, for the road winds across the cornfields up, up, and always up-grades so steep that one climbs them with great difficulty; long, tedious hills that flattered us with the impression that on the summit must stand the great rock that was the goal of our pilgrimage. Over an hour of slow climbing, and suddenly we found ourselves nearing the small village called the Borgo Maggiore, at the foot of the great, gray, damp cliffs now glistening in the sunlight. Another moment, and we were in the little, irregular, paved square, with the hotel, the shops, and the market full of farmers bargaining for fish. On our way to the hotel we ran the gantlet of the cherrysellers and the fish-women, who imagined us an easy prey, but we marched straight on up the picturesque stairway and into the great kitchen with its immense fireplace and its wealth of polished copper utensils. We ordered dinner and started to walk to the top of the cliffs by a broad, newly-constructed roadway, that winds to the summit in an easy ascent.

In

Fifteen minutes of brisk walking, each turn in the path unfolding new landscapes below us, and widening the magnificent extent of the view, brought us to the cathedral and the post-office, and we began an exploration of the town. The summit of the immense rock is very irregular in form, baving a length of perhaps a quarter of a mile, and a mean width of less than half this distance. This is entirely covered with houses, and the narrow, steep streets cross each other at every angle, shoot under arches and over dry bridges, and otherwise accommodate themselves to the rough surfaces of the rock. Less than a thousand people inhabit this perch, about twenty-eight hundred feet above the sea, and nine hundred feet above the village-Borgo Maggiore-below. the town itself there is little to see. The church is a modern restoration of the fine old structure that once stood there. The museum is interesting from the small number of very simple relics and curiosities it contains; the collection of the celebrated numismatist, Bartolommeo Borghesi, well repays a visit, but there is no structure of any architectural pretensions. The castle is the notable object of interest. It occupies the crest of an arid rock that overlooks the town, and perches with its bigh towers on the very edge of the overhanging cliffs. From its turrets you may drop a pebble nine hundred feet into the fields below. A narrow pathway leads over the mossy ledges to the great gate-way under a tower, and diligent ringing brings the keeper to open the oaken door. The romance is somewhat clouded

when we learn that the casemates are now used as cells, and that the custodian is the jailer of the republic. There were four prisoners in the cells, two convicted of petty thefts, and the others charged with slight misdemeanors. It seemed very much like play-jail, for the prisoners stuck their beads through the square openings in their celldoors, smoked their short pipes, and chatted with each other and with the keeper in a very social way. The whole establishment is on a diminutive scale quite in harmony with the extent of the republic. The rambling old castle contains few rooms, and the jailer and family inhabit a central apartment very picturesquely arranged, through which one passes to ascend the bell-tower. We paid our respects to the bells, that the keeper patted with a sort of fatherly tenderness, and, shuddering at the immense elevation at which we found ourselves, forgot it all again in the contemplation of the grand extent of the view before us. The broad sea-line first strikes the eye, then the distant town of Ravenna away to the north. Below and toward the east are the roofs of Rimini, and the single narrow road winds like a trail over the hills. To the south are several city-crowned bills, among them Urbino, the birthplace of Raphael; to the west, the sea of mountain-tops, half-hidden by drifting clouds. Directly below us the fields lay like a many-colored map, and broad, dark shadows of the clouds that hung below us moved majestically to the leeward. The extent and variety of the prospect are most striking, and the foreground is the two isolated towers that cling to the top of seemingly inaccessible peaks to the south of the castle, and the roofs of the town to the north. these three peaks of the rock is seen the design of the coat of arms of the republicthree isolated towers.

In

As we were enjoying the grand landscape, the breeze which played around the lofty bell-tower bore suddenly the unmistakable odor of dinner. Without stopping to reason that it might be, after all, the jailer's Sunday meal and not our own, although the hotel was almost directly below us-nine hundred feet, to be sure-we hastily bade good-by to the keeper, shook hands with his pretty daughter, and made our best time to the hotel.

There was quite a little stir among the people at the foot of the hotel-stairs as we approached. The crowd separated to allow us to pass, and all hats were deferentially doffed. It was plain that something was up. However, we did not stop to inquire, but went straight on to the kitchen again. There we found a large table set for us and the innkeeper's family. It dawned upon us now that the driver had been announcing our nationality and the day we celebrated, which accounted for his intimate chatter with the driver of the oxen on the way up—one of the family of the veteran of Serravalle. All around the smoke-stained walls hung branches of cherry-tree laden with rich, ripe fruit; bits of green decorated the mantelshelf, and there was a freshly-scrubbed look about every bit of furniture and the arsenal of copper pans on the shelves and the dress

er.

The heaped-up dishes on the table sent up clouds of fragrant steam; bouquets of rich flowers mingled their odor with the scent of the tomato and the rosemary, and we sat down to soup and fish, macaroni with tomatoes, risotto, beef and various vegetables, the standard salad, and plenty of most excellent wine.

It was after the first tumblerful of wine that the landlord, an intelligent man of forty years, coached us up on the history of the republic, which he seemed to have at his tongue's end; and when he did not find the date or the name he desired he turned to his curly-headed daughter at his side-a girl of perhaps ten years-who supplied the wanting word with school-girl promptitude. And this is the gist of the information our good host imparted, and the source of his knowledge we never suspected until he produced, as a parting gift later in the day, a history of the republic, written by one of its citizens:

According to tradition, in the middle of the fifth century, a rock-cutter named Marino, a native of Arbe di Damatia, came to Rimini, driven from his country by religious persecution, and established himself at the hill where now stands San Marino, then known by the name of the Titan Rock. Little by little he gathered around him a crowd of followers, attracted by the simple earnestness of his life and his apparent holiness. The fame of the exile and his religious zeal attracted the notice of the Bishop of Rimini, who called Marino to that city to assist in the promulgation of the true faith, and then made him a deacon. But, tired of the bustle of the town, the rock-cutter soon returned to his cavern, and passed the remainder of his life in converting and doing good. After his death he was made a saint, and the Titan Rock assumed his name. This little community continued to flourish, hidden away among the hills, unknown to the world, self-governing and self-sustaining, and the next we hear of it is in the middle ages, as supporting a monastery, and furnishing a general asylum for the persecuted. In the beginning, the rector of the monastery was recognized as the head of the community; but, as the families increased in size, they adopted the usual form of government in small societies-a council composed of the heads of families. In the eleventh century, in common with other cities and communities, San Marino was fortified, and at the same time the judicial power was separated from the executive, the people liberated themselves altogether from the authority of the rector of the monastery, and transferred the supreme power from the heads of the families to a general council.

In the obstinate strife of the following century, between the popes and the foreign powers, the commune of San Marino extended its territory by purchase and annexation. The history for centuries after this becomes the record of various attempts on the part of the papal and other powers to get possession of the sturdy little republic. I give only the most prominent events of this very interesting history:

In 1291, Hildebrand, Bishop of Arezzo, demanded taxes of the Sammarinese to support the government of Romagna, of which

he was the rector. The republic refused, and judges were sent by Hildebrand to inquire into the cause of the refusal. The decision was given in favor of the Sammarinese "because they were free, and of some certain superiority and domination." The persecutions of the popes, beginning with Bonifazio VIII., were resisted vi et armis, and the republic gained so much territory during the strife that peace was granted them. In the middle of the fifteenth century San Marino was under the protection and in alliance with the princes of Urbino against the Malatesti. Later allied in addition with Alphonse of Aragon, King of Naples, they conquered the Malatesti again. At the end of this century they were in the height of their prosperity, having acquired all the territory they now own, and being friends with the Vatican and the Urbini. In 1503 Cæsar Borgia, having extended his power and conquests as far as Urbino, tried to lay his hands on the republic, now without a protector. A commissioner was sent to Venice to declare their readiness to become subject to the powerful Venetian republic. But their declarations were not listened to, and for a few months, or until they shook off the yoke by a popular uprising, they were under the rule of Cæsar Borgia.

During the pontificate of Paul III., in 1542, they came near losing their liberty from an attack and surprise by the troops under Fabiano da Monte, nephew of the Cardinal del Monte, but the invaders were beaten off. This century was marked also by a series of internal disorders which severely tried the strength of the little republic. Having been for some time protected by the Dukes of Urbino, and the affairs of both parties prospering in consequence of the alliance, the last duke, Francesco Maria II., began to fear, toward the close of his childless life, that at his death the republic would be endangered by the jealousy of adjoining powers. He accordingly encouraged the Sammarinese to send to Pope Clement VIII. to make a treaty with the Santa Sede. The treaty was made and ratified, and, on the extinction of the family of the Dukes of Urbino, the republic came under the protection of the Vatican. Notwithstanding their now well-established position as an independent power, the Sammarinese were at this time continually in trouble among themselves. Various petty factions showed their heads, and personal ambitions of different schemers, encouraged by the ignorant devotion of their followers, frequently threatened to overturn the government. The education of the people could alone effect a cure for this state of affairs, and just at the right moment the state was happily made heir to a property of a certain Giacomo Beluzzi, who, in 1661, willed an estate to the republic to establish a laical college. The enlightening influence of this school struggled long with the general corruption in both private and public stations, a corruption which was the result of the continued misery of the people during their long struggles for liberty, and an element nursed by the great concourse of outlaws who fled the laws of other states.

ous march through Romagna, moved by a great veneration for the antique republic, and sent the illustrious Monge to present, in the name of the French Republic, the most cordial protestations of esteem and respect, and to offer arms and munitions of war, and an extension of territory. The Sammarinese reasoned that an extension of territory was dangerous, and declined to accept this part of the generous offer. They did, however, accept the offer of the cannon, but never received them, through the oversight or for getfulness of the officers charged to deliver them. The protection of Napoleon was of great assistance to the republic, but, when the Napoleonic power fell, and the old gov. ernments were restored, it was proved that the safety of the state lay in its very diminutive extent, and it was enabled to live on unmolested until 1825, when a report was circulated at the papal court of Leo XII that the republic was irreverent to the ecclesiastical power, and favorable to alliance with the enemies of the Vatican and of monarchical governments. Antonio Onofri, moderator and regulator of state affairs, already distinguished by many services, went to Rome, and succeeded in bringing back renewals of the old conventions, and was in gratitude named by the republic Padre della Patria.

In July and August, 1849, the territory of the republic was the theatre of some most exciting events. General Garibaldi, with his legion, was entrapped by the Austrians at the frontiers of San Marino. He, with his troops, sought the protection of the republic. The conditions of capitulation proposed by the Austrians, through the mediation of the republic, were considered by Garibaldi to be too severe, and he, with a few followers, made his escape.

Two years later the Austrian troops, sup ported by the papal reserves, again made their appearance before the republic, demanding the delivery of certain enemies of the pontifical government who had taken refuge in the territory. The council-general in

vited the Austrians to enter and take the persons sought. Thirty-two refugees were carried away. Two years after this event the government of Rome endeavored to induce the Tuscan government to take possession of the republic under pretext of establishing order there, but, through the influence of the French embassador to Rome, nothing came of this attempt. After the war for the Ital ian independence, the republic, finding itself surrounded by the kingdom of Italy, sent embassadors to Victor Emmanuel, who concluded a treaty of friendship and commerce, through which the Sammarinese received the solemn recognition of all their old liberty, sovereignty, and independence, and the amelioration of their financial and commercial condition. The money of San Marino now had, by virtue of this treaty, free circulation in the kingdom of Italy. In 1864 the republic coined fourteen thousand francs in copper, and in 1869 thirty thousand; since that time there has been no new coinage, and it is with difficulty, even in the limits of the republic, that a piece of the copper coin can be ob tained. The postal convention with the In 1797 Napoleon paused in his victori- kingdom of Italy was signed in 1865, since

which date the Italian postage-stamps have been in use in the republic. The crowning act of the Sammarinese which deserves chronicling is their refusal, in 1868, to allow the establishment of a casino and gamblinghouse in the territory. Although generous shares of the profits, a munificent cash bonus, a railway, the annual maintenance of two young men in the universities, and many other advantages, were offered, the honest republicans refused without hesitation all these liberal proposals, and gave this final memorable proof of their uprightness and firm principle.

The territory of the republic at the present day has a circuit of about thirty miles, and has a population of seven thousand six hundred. A council of sixty citizens, chosen for life, one third selected from the nobles, one-third from the landholders, and one-third from the peasants, has the supreme power. This council chooses every six months two consuls, or capitani reggenti, who are invested with the executive power. A council of twelve is also selected by the council-general to judge the criminal and civil cases of the third grade, and to assist in contracts. A body of nine is also selected to attend to the administration of the public expense. The judicial power is intrusted to two foreigners, one for the civil cases, the other for criminal suits. This office is changed every triennial. The military force consists of the body of gendarmes and the guard, numbering some eighty members, destined to be the escort of honor to the capitani reggenti on public occasions, and the militia. Besides this force,

good grammar. The finale was long, and the
farewell at the end of the dinner lasted for a
half-hour, and we departed. It might enter
the head of one not acquainted with the Ital-
ian character to ask if we had scruples
about calling for the bill. We certainly had
none, and a good, fair account was presented
and cheerfully paid, of course. Business is
business.

On the way down the hills, after leaving
Serravalle, the driver turned round in his seat
and said:

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his fathers when he was nineteen years old. Two years later he contracted, while in England, a morganatic union with a young English lady of great beauty, Lady Charlotte Colville. The only child of this union, the Countess de Ciny, was that daughter with whom he afterward had such a long and scandalous lawsuit. On the 7th of September, 1830, the revolution broke out, whis drove the adventurous prince from his throne, and thereafter began the wandering, eccentric life which ended at Geneva a few years

"Have your excellencies, signori republi- ago.
cani, enjoyed the day?
"Most assuredly," we shouted in stage-
chorus.

"Then I hope signori republicani will give
me a franc for buona mano." And he pocket-
ed his franc.

At the station our commissionnaire awaited
us, passed the conventional compliments, and
then took the driver to one side. After an
earnest discussion, we saw the driver pull out
the franc we had just given him, and put it
in the hand of the commissionnaire. The lat-
ter looked contented.

The driver turned around and deliberately
winked at us. So we were all four satisfied
a rare state of affairs to chronicle in the dia-
ry of a traveler in Italy.

F. D. MILLET.

According to his French biographer, the duke had a great influence in conferring upon France the doubtful blessing of the late empire. One day, while Prince Louis Napoleon was a prisoner at Ham, there came to him a messenger, bringing with him a paper, which he presented to the prince for his signature. The prince signed it, and the man departed, leaving behind him as the price of that signature a package containing eight hundred thousand francs-the golden key which was to unlock for the captive his prison-doors. This man was M. Smith, chief treasurer to the Duke of Brunswick, and the paper was a treaty by which the two crownless exiles pledged themselves, the one to reëstablish the duke upon his throne, and to form, if possible, a united Germany, and the other to aid Prince Louis to gain his uncle's crown. After the escape of Louis Napoleon, he had

THE LATE DUKE OF several long interviews with the duke in Lon

BRUNSWICK.

HERE are but few persons who have re

every citizen between the ages of eighteensided in Paris for any length of time

and sixty years is enrolled and liable to serve in case of need. The treasury of the state is maintained by the profits of the sale of tobacco and salt-a government monopoly all over Italy a slight tax on real estate, and a small duty upon bread and provisions. The revenues are about seven thousand dollars a year.

who do not remember the late Duke of
Brunswick, that painted, bewigged Lothario,
whose follies, eccentricities, and diamonds,
made him the talk of all Europe. A small
volume, recently published in Paris, gives
some strange and new details about this roy-
al oddity, who, the reverse of Jupiter, passed
away from this earth, quitting his beloved
Geneva in a shower of diamonds.

don, and then and there were their plans for future movements decided upon. But the future emperor only half kept his word. He did succeed, much against his will, in forming a united Germany, but he never reinstated the Duke of Brunswick in his paternal dominions.

After the coup d'état the duke installed himself permanently in Paris. He purchased, on the Rue Beaujon, near the Arc de Triomphe, the hotel which had formerly belonged to Lola Montez. There he caused to be erected the huge and curious structure which, with its rose-colored walls and profuse gilding, seemed the very realization of a palace in a fairy tale. Into this marvelous

The duke was born in 1804. He was the first child born to his parents, the Prince Frederick William, son and heir to the reign-building but few persons were allowed to

In the course of the long historical discussion, of which the facts above written are but the most concise generalizations, it dawned upon us gradually that the modest fête we were enjoying was entirely in honor of us two Americans, of the country we rep-ing Duke of Brunswick, and the Princess Maresented, and of the day we were celebrating. The dessert was brought on, and before we were half through with it the preoccupation of the landlord gave us reason to suspect that something was yet to come. He endeavored to conceal his anxiety, but we could see him glance at the door whenever there was a sound in the passageway. Sure enough, as we rose to touch glasses to the prosperity of both republics, the great smokestained door opened, and a servant entered bearing a great, flat bouquet, and followed by two musicians, who tooted with all their might the "March of Garibaldi." The bouquet was deposited on the table with great solemnity, and we saw that it was the shield of the United States done in red and white pinks and bluebells, with the letters "July 4, 18-," in gilt paper. This was a courteous observance of our holiday which we had not counted upon, and the speeches that followed were laden with more gratitude than

rie Wilhelmina of Baden, sister to the then
Empress of Russia and to the Queen of Swe-
den. A sinister omen marked the rejoic-
ings in honor of his birth. The first cannon-
shot fired on that occasion carried off the head
of an artillery-man. The duke's youth was
a stormy and an adventurous one. His grand-
father was killed at the battle of Jena, being
blinded by a ball which put out both of his
eyes, and he was borne from the field only to
die a few days later of his wounds; and the
ducal family were driven from their domin-
ions. His father fell at the battle of Water-
loo, and the young and throneless duke was
consigned to the guardianship of his uncle
by marriage, George IV. But the nephew
of Queen Caroline was not likely to remain
on good terms with that lady's royal hus-
band, and they soon quarreled after the good
old fashion of guardians and wards all the
world over.
The negotiations of Prince Met-
ternich restored our hero to the throne of

penetrate. To effect a surreptitious entrance was almost an impossibility. The walls surrounding the house were of immense height, and were covered by gilded spikes, with all of which an electric apparatus was so connected that if one of them were touched a chime of electric bells was instantly set in motion. To gain entrance, the would-be visitor must come provided with a pass-word, a letter of introduction, or some potent and unmistakable reason for being admitted. Once within the walls, he was introduced into an elevator lined with blue satin, which bore him gently to the antechamber of the duke's apartments. The bedroom of this eccentric gentleman was made entirely of iron

walls, ceiling, and floor, alike. It was, in fact, an immense iron cage, wherein the exsovereign, thanks to a dozen complicated pieces of machinery, could bid defiance to the thieves and assassins, the fear of which poisoned his existence. At one side of this apartment, and only to be opened with its

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