2 l6



On Rock 1 brushes at Riva.



I spent the rest of that day trying to pick out suitable

sentences from our Italian conversation book but, alas it was all

“ How many waistcoats has your grandfather,” and such like

sentences ; but I managed to extract “ uccello canoro ”— “quanto

costa ”—and “troppo” ; and, armed with these, went back next

day. As we neared the shop our hearts failed ; we passed it and

passed it again. “ You go up aud ask him,” I said to my

husband ; but he would not see it, so I had to take my courage

in my hand and face him. “ Buon giorno ” I said. Much

bowing and smiling from our jolly friend followed—“ Passera

solitaria ” I ventured. Down came the cage, and much

voluble Italian ensued. As soon as a pause came I jerked out

“ uccello canoro" —I don’t know why, but it was the next word on

my bit of paper, aud I felt I must say something. There was

great gush at this, evidently extolling the beauty of the

“ canoro.” “ Quanto costa ?” came next—30 Kroner for the two.

My husband, who had by this time ventured into the shop,

joined in the emphatic “ troppo ,” and we left for that day.


Three daj r s after we came back, and this time I felt like

an old friend, so stated the “ Quanto costa ” gaily. It was still 30

Kroner. I looked indignant and pointed to the hen saying severely

non canoro.” He looked bewildered, as I pointed to the

cock and said “ canoro ” ; then to the hen saying “ Non canoro.”

He fairly^ beamed then and pointed first to the cock and then to

my husband and from the hen to me ! At last we got him down

to 20 Kroner, when unfortunately, in my eloquent gesticula¬

tions, I sent my elbow through a show case on the counter—of

course be bowed and smiled, aud I suppose said it did not

matter ; but I hastened to end the bargain at the price mentioned,

and he threw in a bag of Indian meal and polenta to feed them

on.


I brought these birds home here in triumph. The people

in the train were much amused when they saw us feeding them

with a bit of stick, but they lived and thrived until, to my

everlasting sorrow and regret, a strange blue cock got out

in the aviary and killed the hen. The little Riva cock

revenged his sister by slaying her murderer through the bars of



