A MIDDLING INN.
"The good of the place is before you."
"But here they tarried and slept."
The Albergo of Cività Castellana was but a middling inn. The padrone, in English tweed, high boots, and Derby hat, looked half cockney, half brigand. His wife wore an elaborate false front, and much lace about her neck. But they were far finer than their house. We were lodged in the garret, in a room the size of a large closet. The way to it led through another bed-chamber, long and low, in which four cots were ranged in a row along the wall. When we crossed it on the way downstairs to dinner I devoutly prayed that on our return four nightcaps would not be nodding on the pillows. Later in the evening, when we had dined, we strolled out to the piazza. To see the life of an Italian town you have only to go to the caffè. We went to one near the Albergo. There were two tables in it. We sat at the smaller, and at the other were four ragged boys playing cards!
Fortunately we were the first to go to bed in the garret. All through the night, however,—for the mattress was hard and I slept little,—I heard loud snores and groans, and the sound of much tossing to and fro. We rose early in the morning, but when we opened our door the cots were empty, though they had not been so long.
ACROSS THE CAMPAGNA.
"They compassed them round on every side; some went before, some behind, and some on the right, some on the left."