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-8I-

privately. Yet yesterday I heard him expounding the Horace of the green pages to his rough-featured pupil who was smiling and showing all eagerness to penetrate the arcana of erudition.
The peasant children play round us. The little girl of ten is a horror,  her manner vile, her voice loud and hysterical and is it to be wondered at since she drinks huge glasses of wine like any man, I am told. But there is a tiny blond boy of four whose mother is an Austrian peasant. This silent little fellow is always at work and contrives to make something out of whatever he touches. He picks flowers like his companions, but with his flowers he constructs small hanging gardens by digging sticks into either side of the path and then festooning the flowers across. There are many of these miniature hanging garden about, due to the efforts of this small workers. I noticed that when he puts down any objects he is holding he always manages to group them together in a certain fashion and then returns several times to correct what is not to his liking. It appears that he is full of wise saying and the Signora S. thinks that Leonardo da vinci must have been very much like little boy when of the same age. 'Perhaps he will be another Leonardo da Vinci,' said she ..... perhaps .... but when he grows up shall there be place for a Leonardo da Vinci? Shall there be in