DWIGHT-WIMAN CLUB. 



35 



he takin' notes ? I tell you, boys, he's got our portraits 

 * down fine ' in those tablets ; he'll give us all a breeze, 

 see if he don't." 



Usually, one half of us sat down to cards at night, 

 while the other half wrote letters, mended clothes, read 

 their books. But to-night seemed by common consent 

 devoted to recalling incidents of the Club's trip — I mean 

 trips — to Europe. Robert ^prenait la parole' and told of 

 the 63 mile drive from Bavano to Brigue made by 

 our boys in one day, but to which the guide books 

 allotted two. Then he took us all with him to Venice 

 and related with much power the story of the aston- ■ 

 ished porter who, accustomed to live from day to day 

 on macaroni, was presented by Luc, the courier, with a 

 whole luncheon basket full of cold chicken, boiled eggs 

 and biscuit. How wolfish his face became all at once, 

 at the sight of so much and so diverse food, and how 

 ravenously he clutched every morsel the basket con- 

 tained and crammed them into his pockets, his trousers, 

 his shirt bosom ! How graceful, too, the gesture of the 

 ragged Italian youth of 14, breaking stones, poor lad, at 

 the side of the Cornici Road. When Robert made as 

 if to give him some pennies, the boy, smiling, took off 

 his cap, kissed his hand, and then blew the kiss from 

 his palm towards the expected giver, with an ingenuous 

 confidence that suggests the phrase, Vous remerciant en 

 avance" with which the polite French so often conclude 

 their letters containing a request. 



Wonder where Theodore is, about now, some one 

 asked during these Stories of Venetian Life. " Well, 

 wherever he is he is probably wishing himself up here," 

 thought Robert, while Matthews added " and if he 

 could see this shanty, he'd never want to go to Rome 



