that it is a custom to play altalena on certain summer festas, but they did not know if it had any special significance.

The Antiquary, however, knew better. The swing is a most ancient game. A picture was found at Pompeii of a lady swinging. Festus speaks of it as a favourite amusement among the ancients. It is said to be an Oscan game. Micali ("Popoli Antichi," xxii. 147) tells us the Latins celebrated the feasts on Monte Albano with this "woodland game" (giuoco boschereccio).

CHAPTER XII.

THE CONSEQUENCES OF A QUARREL.

June 22.-"Oh, signora! have you something to bring one of the women to life again? she has been in a swoon for half an hour," exclaims our nurse.

Away hies "the mother," with the brandy and sal-volatile in her hand, to the sick woman's house, closely followed by the Antiquary. The invalid is the unmarried sister of the brothers Lenini, who all live in one house, each brother having a floor of two rooms. It appears that this sister had a dispute last night with some other member of the family, and the agitation must in some way have affected her heart. "The mother" finds her stretched on the bed in a neat clean room with all her relations and friends crowded round her. There she lies, still and with set features; brown, strongly marked features, seamed with hard work, but now rigid as a corpse; she does not even breathe perceptibly. Her hands and feet are cold as marble ;

the only sign of life is a slight flutter at the heart.

The brother with whom she had quarrelled sits holding her hand, calling her now and then beseechingly, but she hears no voice.

Every means in our power are tried, but in vain. The brandy gurgles in the throat, and is swallowed involuntarily, but brings no life back. Mustard fails to warm the cold feet. The Antiquary suggests medical advice, but the friends reply that "the nearest doctor is five miles away, and will not come for less than seven francs; and then, if she has not waked before he can get here, she must be indeed dead!" So they say, "If only the priest were here now!"

The priest is here. He has been paying his morning visits in the hamlet, and hearing of Beppa's illness, comes at this moment to see her.

In these country places the priest is not only the physician of souls, but of bodies and minds likewise. No sooner is he in the house than the frightened, helpless look on the faces of the people passes away; and though he, like ourselves, can do nothing more, they feel as if half the horror is gone; they have placed their responsibility in he hands which hold their consciences, and begin athe freely again.

an hour afterwards the woman returned

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slowly to life, very weak and shaken. This is the only semblance of a quarrel we have heard of; and as it has had such disastrous consequences, it is not likely to be repeated.

CHAPTER XIII.

A MOUNTAIN STORM.

June 27. This morning we had a hailstorm, and it was a new experience. The early hours were clear and bright as usual, but about ten o'clock a strong wind began to howl round the distant mountains like the roaring of wild beasts afar off. Great masses of clouds came rolling slowly up over the hill tops and down the sides till they veiled them from view.

We stood at the window watching while one of these masses enveloped Piteglio, and as the village vanished from our sight, the wavy outlines of the cloud resolved themselves into straight perpendicular lines, and we knew it was hailing. As we watched, the pouring cloud swept onward to us like a giant white broom. In a few moments the wind roared in our faces fiercely, and we had hardly time to close the windows before the hail was upon us.

Such a howling through the house as that wind