introducing into it every single characteristic of the German manner of pronouncing the Latin language. I have heard the same from other foreigners. It was amusing, too, to observe that he had taken the trouble to note and to acquire the peculiar expletive or interjectional sounds, with which, as it is well known, natives of different countries unconsciously interlard their conversation, and the absence or misuse of which will sometimes serve to discover the foreign origin of one who seems to speak a language with every refinement of correctness.[530] The Englishman’s “ah!” the Frenchman’s “oh!” the whistling interjection of the Neapolitan, the grunt of the Turk, the Spaniard’s nasal twang—were all at his command. My brief and casual intercourse with the Cardinal would not entitle me to speak of his character and disposition, were it not that my impressions are but an echo of all that has been said and written before me, of his cheerful courtesy, his open-hearted frankness, and his unaffected good nature. To all his visitors of whatever degree, he was the same—gay, amiable, and unreserved. With him humility was an instinct. It seemed as though he never thought of himself, or of any claim of his to consideration. He would hardly permit the simple mark of respect—the kissing of the ring which ordinarily accompanies the salutation of one of high ecclesiastical dignity in Italy; and his demeanour was so entirely devoid of assumption of superiority that the humblest visitor was at once made to feel at home in his company. His conversation was uniformly gay and cheerful, and no man entered more heartily into the spirit of any little pleasantry which might arise. On one occasion, upon a melting summer day, as he was shewing the magnificent Giulio Clovio Dante, in the Vatican library, to a well-known London clergyman, the latter, in his delight at one of the beautiful miniatures by which it is illustrated—a moonlight scene—was in the act of pointing out _with his moist finger_ some particular beauty which struck him, when Mezzofanti, horror-struck at the danger, caught his arm. “Softly, my dear Doctor,” he playfully interposed: “these things may be looked at with the eyes, but not with the fingers.” He delighted, too, in puns, and was equally ready in all languages. He laughed heartily at Cardinal Rivarola’s Italian pun against himself, about the _orecchini_;[531] and one day, while he was speaking German with Guido Görres, the latter having made some allusion to his Eminence’s increasing gray hairs, and spoken of him as a _weiss-haar_ (white-haired,) “Ach!” he replied with a gentle smile, not untinged with melancholy;—“ach! gäbe Gott dass ich, wie _weiss-haar_, so auch _weiser_ geworden wäre.”[532]