An elderly English artist, with carefully-trimmed grey hair, a gold-rimmed eye-glass, and a velvet coat which was a little too hot as well as a little too picturesque for the occasion, had got into difficulties with his sketching apparatus on the banks of a lovely little river in North Italy. He had been followed for some distance by several children, who had never once ceased to whine for alms; and he had tried all arts in the hope of getting rid of them, and all in vain. He had thrown small coins to them; they had picked them up and clamoured only the more loudly; he had threatened them with his sketching umbrella, whereat they had screamed and run away, only to return in the space of five seconds with derisive laughter and hands outstretched more greedily than ever. When he reached the spot where he intended to make a sketch, his tormentors felt that they had him at their mercy. They swarmed round him, they peeped under his umbrella, they even threw one or two small stones at his back; and when, in desperation, their victim sprang up and turned upon them, they made a wild dash at his umbrella, which sent it into the stream, far beyond the worthy artist's reach. Then they took to their heels, leaving the good man to contemplate wofully the fate of his umbrella. It had drifted to the middle of the stream, had there been caught by a stone and a tuft of weed, and seemed destined to complete destruction. He tried to arrest its course, but could not reach it, and nearly over-balanced himself in the attempt; then he sat down upon the bank and gave vent to an ejaculation of mild impatience--"Oh, dear, dear, dear me! I wish Elizabeth were here." It was so small a catastrophe, after all, and yet it called up a look of each unmistakable vexation to that naturally tranquil and abstracted countenance, that a spectator of the scene repressed a smile which had risen to his lips and came to the rescue. "Can I be of any assistance to you, sir?" he said. The artist gave a violent start. He had not previously seen the speaker, who had been lying on the grass at a few yards' distance, screened from sight by an intervening clump of brushwood. He came forward and stood by the water, looking at the opened umbrella. "I think I could get it," he said. "The water is very shallow." "But--my dear sir--pray do not trouble yourself; it is entirely unnecessary. I do not wish to give the slightest inconvenience," stammered the Englishman, secretly relieved, but very much embarrassed at the same time. "Pray, be careful--it's very wet. Good Heaven!" The last exclamation was caused by the fact that the new-comer had calmly divested himself of his boots and socks and was stepping into the water. "Indeed, it's scarcely worth the trouble that you are taking."