AN ITALIAN PEASANT. TYROLESE, or Italian; she is either, or both: for she dwelt in Arco, Arco, that lies in the beautiful and sunny plain of Riva, the Tyrol, or Italy, as you will; hemmed in on one side by the giant Alps that separate the Tyrol from Switzerland; on the other, laved by the tiny waves of the Lago di Guarda, whose farther extremity almost touches the classic Verona. It was in Arco that I saw her. I entered it on the morning of a holyday. The games were already a-foot; the young men were at their pastimes, and the maidens, in twos and threes, and in little rows, were standing by. It was a pretty sight to see so many sweet and sunny faces together: and hers was among them; and though not more beautiful, yet distinguished from the rest by a look of placid happiness: not the evanescent pleasure which sparkled in the eyes of others, but that quiet and settled enjoyment which had its untroubled sources in a heart at rest. It was a simple reward, that which was given to the victor of the games, —a bunch of the purple grape. But by whom were they given? by her who had already given her young heart; satisfied that she had not given it unworthily. If you go to Arco now, you will look in vain among the holyday faces for hers. You will find her among her own mulberry-trees, or winding the silk for her household use, sitting at her door, happy, and lovely as ever; or spreading her table for one whose footstep she is listening for. FINIS. LONDON: Printed by A. SPOTTISWOODE, |