feelings of desperate men. Besides, in our] present condition nothing could be more unwholesome. I hope he'll not find any ham." Hark! there was a shout. The yellow dog came skipping out of the cloud, and, unconscious of the fell designs which had been entertained against him, went nosing around in the most friendly manner. Wilson soon followed carrying something on his shoulder. "By all that's blessed, a frying-pan. We can cook the dog anyhow, or make boot soup. What luck? What luck?" "Oh, only sort o' tol'able. I've got some hoss feed, a peck of corn or thereabouts, and some salted bran." "Hurrah! That's glorious!" In a moment the guide was surrounded, and every body was munching raw corn as if it was a prime delicacy. This gave Tom an opportunity to wash the pan and put about a quart of corn to parch. "Hands out, men. Leave the corn git done, hit's more wholesomer that a way than raw. I begin to be afear'd," he continued, "that you raley would eat my dog, and that's why I got this corn; for, you see, the cabin was locked, and I had to break in, and so make myself liable to the law. But I wouldn't like to lose that pup, I wouldn't. "He's mighty keen on a bar trail. Now the corn hain't done yet; jist leave me gin it another turn." To see the eager hungry boys seemed natural enough, but to see Squire Broadacre watching the pan and grabbing up the "captains" as they hopped out on the snow, was rather ludicrous. "Ah, Bob, you terrier, you were too quick for me that time." "Uncle," quoth Bob, handing over a handful, "I was gathering it expressly for you." "Thank you, my boy, I will remember your heroism." The browned and smoking mess was now turned out upon a handkerchief and duly mixed with a handful of salted bran to give it flavor. Our adventurers went into it with speechless gusto, while the good-humored guide browned several additional pansful, and then went back to replace the utensil in the cabin where he had found it. "Blood of my body!" exclaimed the Squire, "I am still unsatisfied, and I haven't the power to give my jaws another wag." "A sip of brandy, a brief repose, and try it again." Indeed, although parched corn is a most savory and nourishing mess for a hungry man, it requires an uncommon amount of energy, per severance, and power of jaw to get enough of it. After an hour's hard work, performed with intense satisfaction, the whole supply was devoured, and the travelers declared themselves ready for the descent; but how stout and cheery they were-how jolly and boastful! "Ah!" quoth the Squire," for a man of my age and figure to have ascended the highest mountain in the United States." "To eat a pint of parched corn," suggested Larkin. "Fond of high living," said Jones. And down they went spouting wit and poetry, shouting and laughing, apparently as fresh as if just starting out. The horses were regained before nightfall, the dangerous paths crossed, and when they reached the banks of Caney Fork the valley was shrouded in the gloom of night. Giving the reins to their sagacious steeds they reached Wilson's cabin at seven o'clock, after an absence of nine hours and a quarter. Having already described one meal at length, we will not dwell upon the supper at the cabin, nor tell what buckwheat cakes and biscuits, what pork and fried chicken, what stewed pumpkins and cabbage, disappeared from the groaning board, nor enumerate the cups of milk, coffee, and persimmon beer that were swallowed during the meal. Mrs. Wilson declared it did her good to see 'em eat-in fact it did every body good; and then, when stuffed until they were nearly blind, and set before the fire to dry, it was a treat to hear the jokes and stories of the day's adventures. One of the ancients has said, "No man can be considered fortunate until he is dead." The moderns say, "Never halloo until you're out of the woods." We may add an apophthegm of our own, "The troubles of the day are never over until one is in bed." Now it happened that our friend Burnsville's experience verified the aptness of these sayings, especially of the latter. When it was proposed to retire he commenced as usual with his boots, but found to his extreme vexation that they were immovable. After a reasonable amount of tugging, swearing, and upsetting of chairs, he got out his knife for the purpose of "ripping their blasted soles out of 'em." To prevent the desperate deed the company interfered, and Wilson asked permission to 'Waggle your heel and toe back and forth," cried Tom, setting himself again. This time the boot came off, and, by repeating the operation, the other foot was uncased in like manner. The young man managed to crawl into bed, while Wilson consoled him with the following observation: "Your jints 'ill tighten up by mornin', and the boots hain't hurt a bit." As the next day was Sunday and our friends intended to ride no further than the town of Burnsville, they slept late and lingered about the cabin for some time after breakfast. While they sat discoursing upon the subject of mountains in general, Johnsey, the first-born and heir apparent of Tom Wilson's cabin, recently washed and combed, entered. Stationing himself in front of Larkin, he regarded the stranger for a space with a look of intense respect mingled with curiosity. Presently, as if he had made up his mind to it, he approached and thus addressed him. "Look'ee, mister, is them saddle-bags of yourn full of money?" A REMINISCENCE OF ROME. try his hand on 'em. Overruled by the general ONCE in my life I saw a place such as imag voice, the patient yielded, and stretched himself upon the puncheon floor with the air of a man about to have his legs amputated. Two of his companions seized him by the shoulders, while Wilson took one boot in his hands and placed the other against his knee. ination pictured to the half-frenzied, irresolute Juliet, as she raised to her lips the phial whose contents would consign her, living, to the Tomb of the Capulets; a vault whose tangible realities seemed to embody all the ghastly conceits and fantastic terrors so vividly expressed in her eloquent ravings-dark, damp, and loathsome-and so "environed with hideous fears," that it might indeed unsettle a brain where fan "Now, all together-Yeo-heave-oh!" Tom bowed himself and pulled till every muscle quivered with the exertion, but the leatherncy too much predominated. hoof was immovable. "Hold on!" cried Burnsville, groaning. "Let me cut it; you've loosened every joint in my leg, and filled me with splinters from these blamed puncheons." As I sauntered, one bright morning, on the Piazza Barberini, in company with a friend, our attention was accidentally directed to an unpretending edifice which stands upon the square a short distance from, and nearly opposite, the cel 1 ebrated Fountain of the Triton. On inquiry we were informed that it was "the Church of the Capuchins," and contained some remarkable paintings, besides other things that were well worth seeing. As our informant happened to be a pretty flower-girl, we invested half a paul each in a bouquet, and then went to visit the church. Our knock at the portal was answered by a brother far advanced in years, whose venerable temples were shaded by a few silver hairs, and whose smooth crown showed that time had long since rendered the use of the penitential razor unnecessary. His words of salutation were few but kind, and the pallor of seclusion overspread a face full of calm hope, meekness, and benignity. Quietly but cheerfully he conducted us from chapel to chapel, exhibiting the treasures of the temple, and descant ing in set phrases on their unequaled merits and beauties. There was the grand combat of St. Michael and the Dragon, by Guido; St. Paul receiving his Sight, by Pietro de Cortona; and a cartoon by Giotto, called "La Navicella." Having admired the paintings sufficiently, in Italian, to please our venerable cicerone, and abused them in English to compensate ourselves for the affectation to which we had been so often constrained by politeness-of praising the faded trumpery of these old masters in art-we turned to depart. Suddenly my companion checked himself: "I think," said he to the porter, "that I have heard of some curious vaults beneath your chapel; can not we see them also ?" The old man shook his head thoughtfully, and replied, "It has not been our custom to show these vaults to strangers, and indeed few wish to see THE FLOWER-GIRL. them; but you, gentlemen, are from a far country, and a refusal to gratify your curiosity perhaps would not be courteous." So, without more words, he took down a bunch of ponderous keys, and, lighting a large lantern, bade us follow him. We complied; and after passing through several long corridors and dim passages our conductor at length led us down a flight of stone steps, and unlocking an iron-bound door ushered us into the apartments of the dead. As we entered, the chill atmosphere caused an involuntary shudder, at which the old man smiled. "Signori," said he, "these chambers are both cold and dark, but then the dwellers here have little need either of light or fire." The first room we entered was a sort of vestibule, with bare stone walls, into which daylight penetrated through a narrow grating, but as we advanced the monk's lantern was our only light, and we labored in breathing the thick, noisome air. Following our guide along a narrow pavement, we passed through a number of low pitched rooms, the floors of which were thickly set with graves and the walls built of human. bones. From time to time the monk would pause and turn his light so as to exhibit the varied horrors of each chamber to the best advantage. The graves were simple mounds of earth ridged side by side, with great regularity, the head of each marked by a black cross with a card, containing the name of the occupant with the date of his death. The walls were built of the bones of legs and arms neatly and compactly piled like cord-wood, and niched, pilastered, and corniced, in all the varied forms of architectural design. The ceilings vied with those of the medieval churches in the ingenious variety and cherubic death-heads winged with shoulderof their patterns. The acanthus-shaped sacrum blades graced the corners. But the ghastly inand os coccygis formed a rich cornice for the genuity of the workman was not confined to walls and arches, while ribs, fingers, toes, and these architectural adornments alone. Each disconnected vertebræ served for the mouldings chamber contained some design of a more artof the curiously wrought panel-work of the ceil-istic and ambitious character. Some moral or ings. Bony chandeliers of intricate workman- religious allegory done in bone. Here was a ship and elegant forms hung from the centre, skeleton Time, with his scythe and hour-glass. A CHERUB. There a grim Justice with sword and scales-a | from some of the scenes which had most imbony Emperor seated upon a throne of skulls, holding a globe and sceptre, represented by a round smooth skull and a white fibula, and wearing upon his naked poll a fantastic osseous diadem. In the niches and along the walls were the half-mummied bodies of dead monks clothed in the garments they had worn in life, standing, reclining, sitting, and kneeling as if in devotion, each holding a crucifix and rosary in his bony fingers, and wearing the knotted scourge girt about his waist. Attached to the girdle of each of these figures was also a card similar to that which marked the graves, bearing the name and date of the proprietor's death. Some of them, I observed, were dated as far back as the year 1694. As the space allotted for burial had been long since filled up, it was customary, on the death of a monk, to disinter the body which had lain longest in the ground, and set it in a niche, while the comfortable grave was yielded to the new-comer for a season. As the old man told us this I involuntarily glanced at his curved back and pallid face. "Si Signore," he said, with a placid smile, as if in answer to my thoughts; "it will not be long before the name of old Fra Francesco will be planted there among the rest; and then, when I have slept my allotted time, I, too, must make place for another, and stand like these in the niches." "Is not that idea too horrible?" said my companion, quickly. "Young friends," said the monk, straightening himself as far as his age and infirmities permitted, his hitherto feeble voice swelling into tones full, firm, and strong-"when the immortal soul has cast off the decaying weeds of mortality, and has taken its place among the blessed, what matters it how and where the old forsaken garment moulders into its original dust?" When we at length reached the last chamber in the suite our conductor turned to retrace his steps, but feeling unsatisfied with this cursory survey, we asked permission to remain some time longer for the purpose of making sketches pressed us. This was readily accorded, and to facilitate our views the wax tapers in the chandeliers were lighted up. As the duties of his place did not allow him to remain longer, and he was forbidden to leave the door of the vault open, our guide told us he would be obliged to leave us then, but would return at the end of two hours to liberate us from our voluntary entombment. Just then my friend discovered that |