And catching him by the head, and drawing down his lower jaw, having forced the mouth to its full stretch, he drew the red surface of his upper-jaw smartly over the back of his own hand two or three times, so as to bring blood from six or seven orifices. Then, drying the blood off his hand, he returns his viper to the box, and asks a baiocco for the exhibition.
"What's the price of your viper?" ask we.
"Two carlines, excellenza."
"Here, tie him up for me in my handkerchief." Which was accordingly done, and we popped him into spirits of wine, as a souvenir of Monte Somma, and of the old man whom we saw handling him.
"Does he gain a livelihood by his trade?" we enquired.
"He teaches people how to catch serpents; and by familiarizing them with the danger, they work in greater comfort, and are not afraid of going over any part of Monte Somma, which, as it abounds in vipers and snakes, still deters the unpractised a little. Besides, they like to see the snake caught and exhibited, and every body gives him something."
A MEDITATION.
Some hidden disappointment clings
To all of man—to all his schemes,
And life has little fair it brings,
Save idle dreams.
The peace that may be ours to-day,
Scarce heed we, looking for the morrow;
The slighted moments steal away,
And then comes sorrow.
The light of promise that may glow
Where life shines fair in bud or bloom,
Ere fruit hath ripen'd forth to show,
Is quench'd in gloom.
The rapture softest blush imparts,
Dies with the bloom that fades away,
And glory from the wave departs
At close of day.
Where we have garner'd up our hearts,
And fixed our earnest love and trust,
The very life-blood thence departs,
And all is dust.
Then, Nature, let us turn to thee;
For in thy countless changes thou
Still bearest immortality
Upon they brow.
Thy seasons, in their endless round
Of sunshine, tempest, calm or blight,
Yet leave thee like an empress crown'd
With jewels bright.
Thy very storms are life to thee,
'Tis but a sleep thy seeming death;
We see thee wake in flower and tree
At spring's soft breath.
We view the ruin of our youth,
Decay's wan trace on all we cherish;
But thou, in thine unfailing truth,
Canst never perish.
J. D.