children. The king himself drives the little carriage, with its pair of handsome horses. He looks like a well-conditioned butcher; the countenance not ugly, rather the contrary, but quite too fat. He looks around him with a restless, hasty glance. The queen's countenance is still youthful and agreeable, but with a something so sad in her expression, that one can see plainly that the cheerful sun of Italy does not shine for her. She is said not to have a happy disposition. She dresses in the most simple style, and her mode of salutation is graceful. The carriage is always attended by armed guards mounted and on foot. The princes and princesses are handsome children, and there are a great number of them. If the king be expected at any point, the guards are there stationed and clear the road of strangers, who may seem to be waiting for him, together with all such as are suspected of a desire to present petitions. The timidity of the king seems to be unusually great, and must be a terrible appendix to his crown. It is true that the murderous attacks on his life have been numerous. It is said that his first wife, who lived and died as a saint, was able more than once, by her dreams, to give him warning of such attempts.
We, innocently-suspected inmates of the Villa Pisani, had, in the mean time, increasing enjoyment of our lives, which became, with each succeeding day, more animated and agreeable. Not only did Mr. Waldo—who had now, however by his visiting-card, made us acquainted with his name, but whom I shall, nevertheless, continue to call so, when I do not designate him Hercules—not only did he become every day
