CONSTANCE CHUB AND WELRER. 213 



it in polite language, and without putting too fine a 

 point on it, stunk like a polecat. 



One piping hot day on returning from fishing, on 

 nearing home, I took it into my head that a bathe 

 would be refreshing. Accordingly I accosted the 

 fragrant Dionege thus " Dionege, voglio bagniar 

 me. Cherca me un suga mano, Dionege." " Ah ! 

 buono ! bagniero me anchi ; sono molto sporco lo ; 

 me lavo la face ogni matina, ma mi lavo il corpo 

 una volta a 1'anno." For the benefit of those who 

 don't know Italian the translation is " Dionege, I'll 

 have a bathe. Get me a towel, Dionege." "Ah! 

 very good! I'll have a bathe too; I'm very dirty, I 

 am ; I wash my face every morning, but I wash 

 my body once a year." "Well," said I, "you are 

 a dirty devil, and I'd rather bathe alone." No 

 wonder, after such a confession, that on a warm day 

 he was a trifle foxey. 



Dionege Festorazzi was, when last I heard of him, 

 a great man in his way, and was steering one of 

 the steamers on the Lake of Como. And after 

 having been twice in prison, twice bastinadoed under 

 the Austrian government, and having killed two 

 men, he was at length living respectably. And the 

 devil was not so black as he had been painted. 



