GEORGE COOPER.
THE ROMAN PIGEON.
N the famous city of Rome I once lived in a house which had been a palace. It had secret closets and trap-doors, and all such queer things. There was one long, dark entry that we called a tube.
We were obliged to go through this entry often, as it was the only passage-way between our rooms. It was so narrow that one could touch both side-walls at the same time. I had often, in going through it, felt that I was not alone: the movement of something always startled me.
It was not like the motions of a human being, and I was too old to have visits from fairies. A dog would bark; a kitten would mew; a parrot would say "Pardon!" Then what was it? I could not tell.
One night, after spending the day in the Catacombs, which are nothing more than cities of the dead, under ground, and after tumbling over my companions, and treading on the heels of the guide, I came home hoping for a quiet, peaceful evening. Finding, however, an invitation to spend that evening with a lady who lived at the other end of the palace, I felt bound to accept it.
As I passed along the dark, narrow entry, which seemed like going through the Catacombs again, I heard a patter, patter, patter, on the brick floor. I supported myself by putting my hands out until they touched the sides of the tube, for I was just the least bit frightened.