'W-hat! Cotton to? Why, that is a clear Americanism; where did you pick it up?' 'Meester Caper of Noo-York, he told unto me it am more elegant as to say, I love, or I affection. Bote, 'ave you saw that bu-tee-fool creechure with 'air of flags?'... 'What!' ''Air of flags; 'ow you name eet? _Capellatura di lino?_' 'Oh! you mean tow-head?' 'Toe! no, no! I mean _lino_.' 'Ah! yes, flaxen hair.' '_Benissimo!_ Vary well, flagson 'air and blue eyze. Shhe was in carri-adge with Lady Blumpudy. I go avery afternoons to inspect her as she takes the airs on the Pincio, Eet would gife me great pleasures to ally myself to her in marriage compact, bote I do not know eef she has a fortune. Do you know any theengs?' 'Yes, a great many; one of which is that it is my dinner-time, and as I turn down the Condotti--good afternoon.' 'Goo-ood by, my dear,' answered Attonito, as he slowly wandered up the Piazza di Spagna. Another example of the beneficial effects of the Pincio on the _bourgeoise_, thought Rocjean. When will the alarm-bell in the clock of Roman time ring out its awaking peal? ROME BY NIGHT. If one would realize the romantic side of Rome in all its stately grandeur, and receive a solemn and ineffaceable impression of its beauty, by all means let him, like Quevedo's hero, sleep 'a-daytime' and do his sight-seeing by moonlight or star-light; for, save in some few favored quarters, its inspection by gaslight would be difficult. Remember, too, that all that is grandly beautiful of Rome, the traveler has seen before he reaches the Imperial City--with the eyes of understanding, with the eyes of others--in books. Nothing but a heap of old stones, bricks, and mortar is there here for the illiterate tourist--he can have six times as jolly a time in Paris for half the money that he pays 'in that old hole where a fellow named Culius Jaesar used to live.' As if the night were not sufficiently dark in this city, there are always those who stand ready with the paint-brush of fancy to make it even of a darker hue; whisperings among the travelers in hotels of certain Jim Joneses or Bill Smiths who have been robbed. Yes, sir, early in the evening, right there in the Corso: grabbed his watch and chain, struck him on the head. You know he was a powerfully built man; but they came behind him, and if he hadn't have done so and so, the rascally Italians would have killed him, and so forth. 'Re-al-ly; well, you won't catch me out at nights!'