386 Pojje Grcgorif and the Pear-tree. QOct. 



halls of kings — I give my solemn word that you shall be to me the same 

 Luigi, I the same Hugo." 



Luigi grasped the hand of the speaker — " Heaven prosper you^ Hugo 

 — and forget not your friends — Remember, remember the pear-tree." 



Hugo quitted his paternal home ; years passed on, and whilst Luigi, 

 a happy and contented man, tilled his ground and propped his vines, 

 and saw his ruddy offspring flourishing around him — whilst he enjoyed 

 that great gift of Paradise, " a country life," and lived in an atmosphere 

 of serenity and sweetness, Hugo was toiling through the devious paths 

 of church-craft, a childless man. He was a politician and a priest — then, 

 more than ever, twin-flowers upon one stalk — he had advanced in dig- 

 nity, and had almost within his grasp, that bright reality, the shadow 

 of which had shone like a star upon his tide of life, and tempted him to 

 ford all depths, to dare all dangers, to hold all toil as nought. 



And Luigi lived on, and became an old man. His children's children 

 frolicked under the shadow of the pear-tree, which shot up, and spread 

 out, as though some spirit were specially charged to tend it. 



" Ha !" cried Luigi, " 'tis a rare crop ;" as two of his grandchildren, 

 perched in the boughs, plucked the fruit, and threw it into the laps of 

 their little sisters, who piled it in two large baskets — " 'tis a rare crop," 

 repeated Luigi, " and if Hugo bear but half as much, there are few 

 richer among the brotherhood. He said, as this tree flourished, so 

 should he prosper : he was a true prophet ; though 'tis well he left 

 something behind to inform me of his increasing greatness — it seems I 

 should never have known it from himself." 



Hugo had, shortly after his departure, forgotten his friend, who, 

 however, continued to tread the same humble, happy path, in which he 

 had at first set out. He had had nothing to disquiet him, no losses, no 

 family afflictions ; the dove, peace, had always nestled in his cot — and it 

 was not until the old man was bending downwards to the grave, that 

 misfortune threatened his hearth-stone. 



A man of high birth and immense wealth had built a magnificent 

 palazzo in the neighbourhood of Lm'gi's cottage. This man Was con- 

 nected by marriage, with the family of Hugo. He was purse-proud 

 and despotic, making of his gold a sword against the poor. One day, it 

 was his arrogant whim that the cottage of tlie gardener interfered with 

 the beauty of the prospect from the palazzo. It was almost instantly 

 conveyed to Luigi, that he must seek another abode, as the land on 

 which the house was built, together with the gardens, belonging to 

 his potent neighbour, were to be devoted to other purposes. The 

 intelligence fell with a heavy blow upon the old man. To leave 

 the cottage — the roof under which himself, his fathers, were born — to 

 quit his gardens, his trees, things which, next to his own children, he 

 loved with a yearning affection — the very thought of it appeared to him 

 a kind of death. He refused to quit — he remonstrated — implored : it 

 was of no avail — the cottage interfered with the prospect. 



One evening the old man, half bewildered, had returned from a 

 fruitless journey to the palazzo. He sat down in his garden, and looked 

 with swimming eyes upon his mirthful children (heedless pretty ones, 

 whose very happiness gives a deeper melancholy to a house of sorrow); 

 shocked and wounded by the tyranny of his landlord, he glanced at 

 Hugo's Pear- Tree — (for so he always called it). The old man leapt 

 from his seat — his resolution was taken — he would go to Rome — he 



