thus he went down the steps, and along the street, still talking to himself. I should conjecture he is one, who, having been maintained by the Jesuits, has lost his wits in consequence of the tremendous fall of the order, and now comes every day to search the empty vessel for its old inhabitants, and, after a short prayer, to pronounce a curse upon their enemies.
A young man whom I questioned about the remarkable sights in the town showed me a house which is called the "Devil's house," because the devil, who is generally too ready to destroy, is said to have built it in a single night, with stones rapidly brought to the spot. However, what is really remarkable about the house the good man had not observed; namely, that it is the only house of good taste that I have yet seen in Trent, and was certainly built by some good Italian, at an earlier period. At five o'clock in the evening I again set off. The spectacle of yesterday evening was repeated, and at sunset the grasshoppers again began to sing. For about a league the journey lies between walls above which the grape-espaliers are visible. Other walls, which are not high enough, have been eked out with stones, thorns, etc., to prevent passengers from plucking off the grapes. Many owners sprinkle the foremost rows with lime, which renders the grapes uneatable, but does not hurt the wine, as the process of fermentation drives out the heterogeneous matter.
I am now at Roveredo, where a marked distinction of language begins: hitherto it has fluctuated between German and Italian. I have now, for the first time, had a thoroughly Italian postilion. The innkeeper does not speak a word of German, and I must put my own linguistic powers to the test. How delighted I am that the language I have always loved most now becomes living,—the language of common usage!
