1740
How Angus McDonald of Clanranald and I set out for the Scots College in Rome; how we fell in with Mr. O'Rourke and Manuel the Jew, and with the latter saw strange company in Leghorn; how we were presented to Captain Creach, "of the Regiment Irlandia," at the Inn of Aquapendente, and what befel thereafter.

"Hoot!" snorted my Uncle Scottos, with much contempt, "make a lad like that into a priest! Look at the stuff there is in him for a soldier!"
Without waiting for a reply, he roared: "Here, mogh Radhan dubh! (my little black darling), shew your father how you can say your Pater-noster with a single-stick!" At which he caught up a stout rod for himself, and, throwing me a lighter one, we saluted, and at it we went hammer and tongs.
I suppose my Uncle was a bit discomposed with his argument, for he was one ill to bear contradiction, even in thought, and so forgot I was but a lad, for he pushed me hard, making me fairly wince under his shrewd cuts, and ruffling me with his half-angry shouts of "Mind your guard!" each time he got in at me, until before long the punishment was so severe I was out of breath, my wrist half broken, and I was forced to cry "Pax!" Indeed, I was so ruffled I made but a poor shewing, and my father laughed heartily at my discomfiture.
"Well, well, Donald," he said, in reply to my Uncle's argument, "I'll at least promise you his schooling will not be any harder than that you would put him at."
"Perhaps not," answered my Uncle, still in some little heat, "but mine is at least the schooling of a gentleman! However, thank God, they cannot take that out of him in Rome, whatever else they may stuff into him. Man! man!" he broke out again, after a moment's pause, "but you're wasting the making of a pretty soldier!"
And he looked so gallant as he stood there before the big fireplace, full of scorn for the ignoble fate he dreaded might be in store for me, that my heart swelled with a great pity for myself, and for my father too, who should be so bent on sending me to Rome, so far away from my Uncle, who knew so many pretty turns with the sword I might learn from no other, and so many songs I might never sing now.
For I worshipped my Uncle, Donald McDonell of Scottos, but always known as "Scottos," as is our custom; he was called The Younger, not to belittle him, but because my Grandfather, old Æneas of Scottos, was still alive. He had been in France and Spain and Italy, first as a cadet and afterwards as ensign in Colonel Walter Burke's regiment of foot, one of the regiments of the Irish Brigade serving under the Duke of Berwick, and many a night have I been kept awake with his stories of their engagements at Cremona, Alicant, Barcelona, and other places—how they beat, and sometimes how they were beaten—till I knew the different Dillons and Butlers and McDonells and O'Rourkes, and other gentlemen of the regiment, not only by name, but as though I had met with them face to face. He had no great love for the Church, for he hated the sight of a priest, and was continually railing against my being sent to Rome lest they should make a "Black Petticoat" of me.
"That 'a McDonell must be either a soldier or a priest' may be a very good saying in its way," he went on to my father, for there was no interruption in their talk, "but mark you which comes first! If all our forebears had bred but little shavelings, and no soldiers, where would the McDonell family be now, think you? 'Tis not in reason you should give up your one son for the sake of an old saw, like enough made by some priest himself. If one of mine chooses to take to it, he will not be missed out of the flock; but depend upon it, brother, God never gave you this one to waste in this way. Let me train him until he is ready to go abroad into the service, and I'll answer for it to stand him in better stead than all the tingle-fangle whimseys they'll teach him in Rome!"
But my father only smiled in his quiet way, and said in his low, soft voice, so different from my Uncle's:
"Donald, Donald, you witch the lad! You have my word that when the time comes he shall be free in his choice; but, priest or soldier, he'll be no worse the gentleman for a little of the book-learning you make so light of. Now, say good-bye to your Uncle, lad, and we'll be off."
As we rode homewards, I on the saddle before him, my father talked all the way of what my going to Rome would really mean. He told me of the Scots College there, what it looked like, where his room was—"and there, if they have not whitewashed the wall, Shonaidh, which may well be the case, you'll find written near the head of my bed:
"'Half ower, half ower to Aberdour,
    'Tis fifty fathoms deep;
And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
    With the Scots lords at his feet.'
That I wrote one afternoon at the siesta when my heart was big and I was wearying for home, as you may do, and I thought I heard my mother singing, and wrote down the old words for my comfort. Perhaps you'll find them there still," he added, slowly, as if he were back in the old days rather than talking to me.
"And, Shonaidh," he went on, after a little, "just when your heart fails you is the time to play the soldier as truly as if you had a broadsword in your hand. Homesick you'll be—I'd be sorry for you if you were not—but remember, I went through it all before you, and, though I have done nothing for it, my time in the old Scots College was the best gift my father ever gave me. If God wills it, you will be a priest, but neither I nor yet the Rector will force you. You are going under the care of one of the best of men, a nobleman and one whose slightest word you should be proud to treasure; and, remember, the first duty of a gentleman who would some day command is to learn to obey."
And so on as we rode; he told me much, much more than I had ever known, of all he had done and all he had hoped to do as a boy, but he had given up his own plans that his brother Scottos might go to serve under the Duke of Berwick in Spain; how, though he had borne himself therein as a brave and gallant gentleman, the fighting abroad had brought nothing to those at home, and, after the disappointment of 1715, how he had no longer heart for foreign service, for he was committed to the Royal Cause beyond everything, and so remained at home in spite of danger, hoping for the day when the King would come again.
He warned me that I must not make too much of my Uncle's railings against the Church, for he had seen many things in Spain that were in a measure hard to see, and, whatever were his words, he was a good son of the Church, and in his heart did not believe his own sayings—which made me wonder, I remember, why my father should so punish me for lying—and so on until we reached Crowlin, as our house was known.

It was in the month of August when I left home, I being just twelve years of age, and Angus McDonald of Clanranald, who was to be my comrade, fourteen. He was a much bigger lad than I, and at home could handle me readily enough, but from being so much with my Uncle Scottos, who was never done talking of what he had seen in foreign parts, I was in a measure travelled, and no sooner were we out of the country than Angus gave the lead to me, which I kept in all the years we were together.
My Grandfather, Æneas of Scottos, gave me his blessing and a bright new guinea and much good advice; my father kissed me fondly, and, with many a direction for the road, gave me a letter to Father Urbani, the Rector in Rome; my sister Margaret hung about my neck and refused to be comforted; but at last, with a cousin of Clanranald's and a party of their people, we started for Edinburgh.
My Uncle Scottos rode with us as far as Inchlaggan, and when we said good-bye he commanded me, sternly, "Don't let them make a little priest of you, Shonaidh, or I'll baste you with a wooden sword when you come home!" Then he swore somewhat in Spanish and kissed me on both cheeks, and rode off with his head down, waving his hand at the top of the hill, though he never looked back.

Our stay in Edinburgh with Bishop Hay, and our journey to Boulogne and thence to Father Innes, of the Scots College in Paris, with whom we lodged for three weeks, produced nothing of interest; indeed, we did not fall in with much I can now recall until we drove into Marseilles and were there lodged in the house of the Benedictins.
Here we saw much to wonder at—soldiers in uniforms, sailors in petticoats, galley-slaves in chains, Jews in gabardines, and others dressed in such outlandish habits we could not help staring at them, though had we worn our own Highland clothes I do not believe any would have remarked on us; and we heard, I doubt not, every language on earth save the Gaelic, which is but little spread beyond the Highlands.
A more lively people than the Marseilles would be hard to meet. On the quay one evening we marked a fellow carrying something like a long, narrow drum, which he tapped with his fingers as he strolled. Presently he stopped at a clear space, and, drawing a little pipe from under his arm, began to play both instruments at once cleverly enough. Hardly had he begun before the crowd gathered round, and on some lusty fellow setting up a shout and leaping into the middle of the space and holding forth his hand, it was caught by one, who in turn invited another, and then another, while from the tavern opposite rushed men and women fairly tumbling over one another in their haste, laughing and shouting as they came, till all were at it, footing it merrily as they swung in and out and twisted and turned in a long tail. Round the posts, jumping over the ropes that held the vessels fast, then across the street and into the tavern by one door and out at another into the street again, with such mad laughing and singing and holding forth of hands that Angus and I could stand it no longer, and so caught hold; and, though we could speak no word of their language, we could laugh as hard in English and give as wild skreighs in Gaelic and foot it as lightly as any of them. It was a grand ploy, and only ended when we were all out of breath.

Provided with money sufficient to carry us to Rome, we took passage for Leghorn, or Livorno, as they call it, in a fair-sized barque, but the dirt and the evil smells on board disgusted us beyond measure, and we almost longed for the bone-breaking coaches again. However, we were not long aboard before we fell in with a tall, decent man, a Mr. O'Rourke by name, who was an Irishman, on his way to finish his studies as a priest at the Propaganda in Rome, but the merriest and best-natured man I had ever seen. He was bigger and broader and had a greater hand and foot than any one else on board.
He laughed at our touchiness at what he called "a few smells."
"A few smells, sir?" said I—"it seems to me they are fairly crowding one another so close there's but little room for any more."
"Oh, isn't there? It strikes me you have never put your nose inside a Roman osteria on a wet day in July! Until then, my lad, you are not qualified to speak of smells in the plural. And let me tell both of you," he went on, after he had finished laughing, "you had best get your noses into training at once, for if they are going to cock up at every stink that comes under them you'll be blowing them over the backs of your heads before long, unless you do like the elephant and carry them in your trunk." Which we took to be an excellent jest, the more so as we found by evening he had two hammocks swung for us on deck near the round-house. The weather was so mild and the cabins so unbearable that most of the passengers followed our example, and even in the bow was one solitary old man, who now and then had to put up with a douse of salt water when the barque clipped deeper than ordinary.
The next day we made a closer acquaintance with our fellow-passengers, most of whom were but fearful sailors with but little stomach for anything off an even keel. In the cabin with us and Mr. O'Rourke were an Italian Count and his lady, some priests, and a Spaniard named Don Diego, with whom we soon made friends, though he was ignorant of both English and French, and had no Gaelic; but we could get in a Latin word or two, and we laughed much and made signs for the rest. Mr. O'Rourke we found to be of the same family as the gallant Major O'Rourke who was killed at Alcoy, in Spain, under the Count O'Mahony, which I knew of through my Uncle Scottos, who was an ensign there at the time; this made us fast friends, and I told him much of the Regiment Irlandia and the Irish Brigade of which he was ignorant.
But we came near to falling out at the very beginning of our friendship, which happened in this way. Being that day with Angus up in the bow of the barque to mark the play of the waves, I was trying some little French on the old man, who was still crouched there miserable enough, when up comes Mr. O'Rourke and, without preface or apology, breaks in upon us, taking no more notice of the poor old man than if he had been a dog.
"Do you know who you are talking to?" says he, in a loud, hectoring style of voice, and raps out before I can answer: "This man's a Jew! A Jew!" he says, and spits on the deck as if he had a bad smell by him.
"I don't care if he's a camel!" says I, much nettled at his tone.
"No more would I," says he, "for then he'd be where he deserves, wandering about in the Desert."
"Mr. O'Rourke, when I get to Rome I'll be under a master, but until then I am answerable to no one save myself, and I'll thank you to leave me in peace to such company as I may choose," I returned, making a mighty strong inflection on my words. He moved away, laughing.
I was only a foolish boy, so his laughing hurt me more than his anger, and had he taken no notice I dare say I would have thought little more of the Jew than of any other on board; but now, part from curiosity—perhaps, too, part from mulishness, of which I had my share when a boy—but afterwards from a personal feeling, I was kept nearer the old man than would otherwise have happened.
True, my Uncle Scottos had no great softness for the Jews while in Spain—no more had he for the priests, for that matter—but this was the first I had ever fallen in with, and the old man was so uncomplaining and gentle I felt I was taking his side, and that ended it. His name was Manuel, and he was a Portugal by nation, but lived in Leghorn, about which he told me much. As to his business, I cared but little—as he could not be a gentleman in the nature of things, his occupation was a matter of indifference to me. So, in spite of the laughter of many, and Mr. O'Rourke's gibes about my visits to the "Ghetto," as he called the bow of the barque where the poor old man was, I never missed a day without a visit to him, and learned much that was useful to me afterwards.

We now met with some heavy weather, and were so knocked about on the third day that, as these coasters are not very venturesome, our captain thought it prudent to put back into Toulon, where we anchored in the midst of the fleet of the King of France there lying. The next day we were eager to get on shore, though it was blowing hard, but were dissuaded by Mr. O'Rourke. However, the Jew and a Cordelier friar resolved to risk it with a crew of six sailors, who ballasted the ship's boat with some spare guns; but hardly had they got up sail before the boat was overset and all were thrown into the water.
The first to lay hold of the boat was the Cordelier, who scrambled up on the keel, followed by the sailors, who pulled their fellows up one after another. All this time I was in an agony of fear for the Jew, who, though he laid hold of the boat, was so old and feeble he could not draw himself up, and no one so much as stretched out a hand to his aid. Worse than this, the ship's company and crew screamed with laughter at each new struggle he made, as if it were the merriest game in the world. Meantime the unfortunates were fast drifting into the offing, and would infallibly have been borne out to sea had not a Spanish zebec made sail and succeeded in overhauling and picking them up.
Then, though I was shaking with fright, I turned to and thrashed Angus McDonald for his laughing with the others until he cried mercy.
"A pretty Christian you are to be going to Rome and laughing at a man as old as my grandfather!" I admonished him, when I had finished.
"Pough!" snorted he, still angry. "Mr. O'Rourke says Jews have no souls!"
"Indeed?" said I. "Mr. O'Rourke had better be looking after his own, and make certain of it, before he is so sure about other people." And off I stalked, mighty indignant and mighty hot against Mr. O'Rourke, who but laughed merrily at my saying.
However, the next day we made it all up again on his asking me and Angus to accompany him and Don Diego on shore at his expense; and the Jew now being out of sight, I could not hold my anger long, while Mr. O'Rourke mended my pride by telling me I had surprised him in the handsome outcome of my attack on Angus. Of course Angus and I needed no making up whatever, for he could generally thrash me twice to my once.
So, with Mr. O'Rourke and Don Diego, we went on shore and rambled about merrily enough. In the afternoon we were strolling about in the Place d'Armes waiting for Mr. O'Rourke and Don Diego off on some affairs of their own, when a gentleman passed having on the greatest wig imaginable, most generously powdered. He carried his hat under his arm and minced in his walk like any madam, holding his long cane as gingerly as a dancing-master.
Without a word, Angus pulled a handful of nuts from his pocket and flung them with all his might at the great wig, which gave out a burst of powder like a gun going off. Round wheeled its owner and was after us with a roar; but we separated and ran in different ways, making for the lime-trees along the edge of the Parade.
We dodged round the trees, and the one of us pursued him as he made after the other; but he would not be dissuaded by this, and kept after me until, at last, I began to lose my wind, and shouted to Angus for help, who, however, could do nothing against an angry man armed with a great cane; and I began to grow anxious in my mind, when who should come up but our Spaniard, who, seizing the situation, at once turned the tables completely by a flank attack, and our Frenchman was soon left lamenting, with his wig up a tree, his cane broken, and more Spanish oaths ringing in his ears than I dare say he had ever heard before. It was like my Uncle Scottos swearing.
Off we went post-haste to the port, where, on entering a tavern, being mindful of my obligations as a gentleman, I ordered and paid for a bottle of wine for our rescuer, at which he was greatly pleased, though, like most of his countrymen, he was modest enough in the use he made of it. The little he did take, however, was sufficient to warm him up, when, forgetting we did not know a word of what he was saying, he poured out a long rigmarole to us in Spanish, which he wound up by whipping out a stiletto—a long, thin dirk much used in those countries—and gave us to understand he would have killed the Frenchman with much pleasure. Not content with this show of friendship, he pulled out a purse, very comfortably filled, and offered me a part; but I refused with my best manner, and with the help of my Latin made him know I was sufficiently supplied.
In the midst of all this friendship and wild talk who should discover us but Mr. O'Rourke, who, on hearing of our adventure, broke out, "'Pon my soul, but this is a pretty jerrymahoo you two young barbarians have started up! You're likely to have the peace-officers down on you before you can say Peter Donovan's prayer; and 'tis proud your people will be of you, no doubt, to have you beginning your education under the whip in a French prison, instead of under the holy fathers in Rome!" And with that he hurried us off in all speed to a boat, in a white fear of the officers, making us lie down in the bottom until we reached the ship's side, when we lost no time in scrambling on board.
We found we were the last passengers ashore, and on Mr. O'Rourke's relating to the captain our adventure, and the possibility of our being followed, he had up the anchor even before the moon rose, and we were on our way towards Leghorn again.

The rest of our time on board went fast enough, for we had nearly as many friends as there were passengers. Finding I had begun my education in fencing, Don Diego gave me lessons in the Spanish method, of which I was not entirely ignorant, and in turn I shewed him something of the single-stick, wherein he was altogether lacking. To our surprise, Mr. O'Rourke turned out to have no small skill with both single-stick and the small-sword—a great waste of education, as my Uncle Scottos would have said, for a priest.
Mr. O'Rourke now left me to my own devices with Manuel the Jew, for whom I was more full of pity than ever, as he, poor man! had not got over the effect of his fright and long exposure in the sea. Not a soul on board, save myself and Angus, ever gave him a word, unless when a sailor might curse at him for being in the way.
I was much exercised in my mind that he never seemed to eat anything—he certainly never went to a meal with the other passengers—and the only reason I could conceive being poverty, I proposed to Angus we should help him out of our store, to which he at once agreed, provided I would do the talking. So one day, when we were quite alone, after a hard fight with my shamefacedness, I lugged out my purse and offered him what I thought needed by his occasions.
"Put up your purse, my dear child! Put up your purse! You must never shew your money to people like that," he said, anxiously; and then seeing, I suppose, my disappointment, he added, speaking very slowly, that I might understand: "My child, do not be offended that I do not take your gold; your gift to me is already made without that, and in my heart I repeat the words of the Moabitess and ask, 'Why have I found grace in thine eyes, seeing I am a stranger?'" As he said this his voice became so broken I looked at him in surprise, and to my great distress saw the old man was crying. Why, I did not clearly understand, and he added to my discomposure by catching up my hand, kissing it, and pressing it to his bosom, repeating something in the Jews' tongue, and saying much I did not deserve, in French.
So we continued friends, and every day Angus and I sate with him under the shade of the foresail and listened to his stories of foreign countries, for he had travelled far and took a pleasure in telling of the wonders he had seen.
At last we sighted the port of Leghorn (we were not in reality so many days on board as I may have led you to suppose in my telling, but the impression left on me is of a long time)—we sighted Leghorn, I say, with marvellous fine quays filled with much shipping, and the first craft that passed us was one of the galleys of the Grand Duke, with its crew of horrid wretches of slaves pulling the long oars with an even sweep, like one great machine, under the eye and whip of their captain. Sorry enough were we to put foot on shore, for we realized every day was bringing us nearer to Rome and the end of the pleasant life we had been leading.

In company with Mr. O'Rourke we found a respectable lodging near the Place where the statue of the Grand Duke with the four Turks stands, and here everything was surprisingly fresh and clean after the ship. Indeed, the whole town is wonderfully clean and bright, and in that part called "Little Venice" we loved to stroll, admiring the barges in the canals, which are there in the middle of the streets, and the loading and unloading of the great bales of goods.

On the second day after our arrival, while in that street which serves as an Exchange for the merchants, to our great surprise we saw our friend Manuel the Jew. But how changed from the sickly, poor old man we had known on board the barque! He was decently dressed in sober black, with a long cloak and a well-cared-for periwig, and spake to one who looked like a person of standing, as a man speaking to his equal.
On seeing us he came forward, and, after shaking hands with me and Angus, he saluted Mr. O'Rourke, who returned his bow, but not overwarmly. After a few words he excused himself and spake for a little with a gentleman of good appearance, indicating us the while.
Evidently at his invitation, the gentleman came up to us and addressed Mr. O'Rourke: "Sir, I am Signor Antonio Arnaldi, one of the merchants of this place, and not ill-connected. My friend Manuel tells me he is under some obligation to your young gentlemen for kindness received, and begs your permission to allow their attendance at some festivity among his people to-night. The son of the Grand Duke, I am told, intends to honour it with his presence, so you may judge it is an occasion of unusual importance. He assures me he will take every care of the young gentlemen, and asks my word for his trustworthiness, which I can give from the bottom of my heart, as can any honourable merchant in Livorno." So saying he bowed most graciously, and, after some further words and compliments, Mr. O'Rourke as handsomely gave his full consent, when there was more bowing and compliments on all sides, and the merchant betook himself to his affairs. Though we were in no way bound to Mr. O'Rourke's consent to our comings and going, we did not hold it necessary to protest when others took it for granted he stood in this relation towards us.
Manuel then led us through the Exchange, and though Mr. O'Rourke was somewhat stiff at first, this soon wore off when he saw what people saluted our guide and their manner of so doing. Manuel knew every one; he pointed out to us the most considerable merchants, shewed us the harbour and the Duke's galleys, making plain much we would not have understood, and left us at the dinner-hour, promising to call for us at our lodging in the evening.
That afternoon we went to the great baths, which were managed after the manner of Turkey, as Manuel had explained to us, and though somewhat alarmed at first by so much steam and heat and water, and the slappings and punchings and rubbings of the naked Turks who waited on us, we soon got used to it and came out after some hours feeling like different persons, cleaner I suppose than we had ever been in our lives before. We then walked on the Mole and admired the fine ladies taking the air in their chairs borne by footmen all well liveried and appointed.

Towards evening Manuel came for us, and though he most civilly invited Mr. O'Rourke to make one of us, he pretexed another engagement.
"You see," he explained to us, when we withdrew to make our preparation, "you have no characters at all, and can consort with the Grand Turk, if you choose, but I am respectable and cannot afford to take liberties with myself."
"Indeed, Mr. O'Rourke," said I, "we have a great deal of character."
"So I have perceived; but it is more to the quality I am referring," he returned.
"Well, and did you ever hear anything against my family?" I asked, somewhat heated.
"Nothing but what filled me with terror, being a peaceable man in my quiet hours," he said, with a laugh.
But now I began to suspect him of rallying me, and said I believed he was jealous that he would not share the good things with us.
"Not I, faith!" he answered; "I'd be too much afraid of finding a Christian child done up in a ragout, or their trapanning me to turn me into a little Jew; and 'tis hard lines it would be for me if I couldn't have a taste of bacon with my potato!" At which we all laughed heartily, none the worse for his nonsense.
So Angus and I left in company with Manuel and took our way towards the Jews' quarter.

Unlike Avignon and Marseilles, we did not find the Ghetto locked and barred; indeed, we saw no great difference between the Jews and Christians here, nor in their quarter either, except that it is not so clean and there are more people than in other parts of the town; and, I confess, we met many of those smells by which Mr. O'Rourke says one may always tell a Jew; but, for that matter, I have met as bad in the Sacred City of Rome itself.
Every one knew Manuel, and he was greeted with respect even by the children in the street. We stopped at the door of a high building, and, after climbing some flights of stairs, all open on a great court, he unlocked a door and we entered his rooms. Here everything was very clean, but too bare, as I thought, for a man held in such esteem. On a table was spread a collation of fruits and sweetmeats, of which we all three partook in great merriment by the light of a tall silver lamp.
When our hunger was satisfied, our host led us into another room, where from a high press he took down two rich cloaks, and, telling us we were going to a wedding, where we must not shame our host, he put them over our plain clothes, and bade us see ourselves in a mirror. I never was so fine before; for not only was the cloak of the finest camlet, of a rich blue colour, but was lined with a cherry-coloured silk and had good lace about the neck, while that of Angus was quite as handsome, only more of a mulberry.
For himself, he kept to his black, but his doublet was of velvet, as was the cloak which he now took down, to which he added a heavy gold chain, which so became his gentle face and venerable beard that in my eyes he looked as if he should be always dressed in this fashion. And in the midst of it all I remembered that this was the man to whom I had offered money for a meal, and I was overcome with shame. I suppose he perceived my thought, for he engaged us in talk at once about the festa until my confusion passed off. It seemed mighty strange to us, who had seen Jews so contemned in other places, and heard such stories of their wickedness and cruelty, to listen to one whom we had lately seen so despised and put upon talking as if a festa were his every-day affair, and our appearance the most particular concern he had on hand.
At length everything was adjusted to his satisfaction, and forth we went in our bravery to win the envy and outspoken admiration of the people as we made our way through the crowded streets towards the house where the festa was held. The stairways up which we went were laid with carpets and the bareness of the walls hidden under rich stuffs, and when once in-doors we were dazzled with the lights in hanging silver lamps and massive candelabra on every hand.
There seemed to be hundreds of people in the rooms, which were hung with the finest of damask; and, more wonderful still, the very floor on which we trod was covered in silver tiles—the father of the bride having removed those of earthenware and replaced them by silver, to do honour to his daughter and to the Grand Duke, a great patron of the Jews, whose eldest son was to be a guest. As we went bowing our way through the crowd we were dumb with amazement at the beautiful dresses, the pearls, and precious stones and jewels worn by both men and women.
The bride was simply covered with them but seemed to me a poor enough little creature in spite of her finery, and we were surprised to find she was little more than a child. To her every one made his compliment in Italian or Portuguese or in the Jews' tongue, but not knowing any of the three, I ventured on the best wish I knew in good Gaelic—"Soaghal fada slainte's sonas pailt do Bhean na Bainnse!"—which means, in English, "May the bride have long life and abundant health and happiness"; at which the wee thing laughed very merrily, though she could not have known a word; from which I gathered a higher opinion of her intelligence than her looks.
On tables and buffets were confections and fruits, wines and sweet drinks in vessels of every form and colour and of inconceivable richness. To music unceasing the dancers advanced and retired, bowed and turned until we could see but a changing maze of silks and velvets, of flashing gold and jewels under the lights that seemed to wave and dance before our dazzled eyes; and when, at last, the hour came to leave, the music kept ringing and the lights flashing about us through the still, dark streets until we dropped asleep in our lodging.
On our awakening the next morning the first thing that met our eyes was our finery of the night before, which, in our excitement, we had forgotten to return to Manuel, and on his appearance later, to our surprise, he would not hear of such a thing, though we pressed him hard.
"When you offered me money to fill an empty stomach, was I ungrateful?" he asked; and part for this, and part that he should not think that we scorned to accept from a Jew, we desisted and made such return as we could.

Mr. O'Rourke now came for us with an invitation to breakfast with two Scottish gentlemen making the Grand Tour, who had sent their servant to our lodging with their compliments and the message. But I cannot recall anything further than one was a Mr. Ramsay, over whose lap Mr. O'Rourke upset a dish of tea, and great was the outcry and many the apologies thereat.
We joined our friend Manuel again, who had undertaken to engage for us a reliable interpreter with whom to journey to Rome, for, much to our disgust, we found the little French we had been at such pains to acquire during our stay at Paris was as useless as our English in these parts, and we were now to lose Mr. O'Rourke, though he gave us a hope of joining us at some point before we reached our journey's end.
After consulting with Angus, I took the precaution to buy two good French folding-knives, one for each, which would serve both for the table and defence, if need be.
In order to avoid the dangers of a bad road across an unsettled country, where many lawless characters abounded, it was decided we should go to Pisa by way of the Canal, and thence hire a caleche and take the main highway to Rome by way of Bolsena and Viterbo.
In the early morning, accompanied by Mr. O'Rourke, we made our way to the Canal, where we found Manuel awaiting us by the boat, somewhat similar to the Coche d'Eau by which we had travelled to Auxerre, with a basket filled with fruit and the sweatmeats we most admired. He begged us not to forget him, and seemed so down at parting that we could not refrain from embracing him, though in Mr. O'Rourke's presence, who behaved very handsomely himself in thanking Manuel, which I thought the more of than our own action, as we were drawn to him and he was not. At last we moved slowly off, waving our adieux to the two best friends we had so far met in our travels.

It must have been Manuel who made the difference, for I remember but little of Pisa or the first part of our journey, save that the open caleche was pleasant, and that we were much taken with Luigi, our interpreter, who allowed neither postilions nor innkeepers to get the upper hand of him or us, and who was always in good-humour. The inns were mostly bad, and we suffered cruelly from fleas, which were nearly as many and as hard to get rid of as the beggars.
About noon, one day in December, we drove into a small town most strongly placed, called Aquapendente, and there, before the door of the Tre Corone, we caught sight of Mr. O'Rourke, standing head and shoulders above the crowd.
We were so overjoyed to see him once more that we flew into his arms, and there was great laughing and outcry for a few moments. At length he shook himself free and pretended to rate us. "Here! Here! You young ruffians! Where are your manners? Don't you see I am talking to a gentleman, or was, until you two Highland caterans fell on me!
"—Now let me see what you have learned by your foreign travel," he continued.
"Captain Creach," said he, turning to the gentleman who was looking on and laughing, but who, on being addressed, at once took an air of attention, "this is Ian—or, in English, John—McDonell of Scottos, of the mature age of twelve, the scion of an illustrious family, whose ancestors have ruled in Knoidart and parts adjacent from the days of Noah downwards.
"And this," he said, waving his hand towards Angus, "is Mr. Angus McDonald of Clanranald, who confesses to fourteen years, whose name is known with distinction in the Highlands, and with fear through the countries towards the south.
"They are travelling to Rome, there to complete their studies in the Scots College, and may afterwards enter into competition for the higher offices in the gift of His Holiness, provided secular callings have not a greater charm. I have enjoyed the honour of travelling in their company, and can answer for their principles, if not always for their discretion...." And so on, with much more of his Irish balderdash, without sense or meaning, until Captain Creach, who was a small, genteel-appearing man, with a very white face, dressed in a habit, half civil, half military, cut him short and shook hands with us, saying he was sure we would prove a credit to our names wherever we might go, though he would be sorry to see two such fine lads hiding their figures in black petticoats—a sentiment which warmed me to him at once; and when I learned he had actually been in the Regiment Irlandia, my delight knew no bounds. I questioned him at once, but found he did not remember my Uncle Scottos—he was too young for that—though he knew his name well, which did not astonish me.
We spent the morning merrily, I paying for a bottle of wine for him and Mr. O'Rourke, and Angus and I readily agreed to wait over the day that we might enjoy their company, as the Captain was on his way north and Mr. O'Rourke was not yet ready for Rome. Luigi we sent off to enjoy himself after his own fashion.
Whilst the dinner was preparing, Angus and Mr. O'Rourke set off to see the fall of water near by, but I remained in the upper room with my new friend, as I had much yet to inquire concerning the Regiment. But after a little he seemed to grow weary of my questioning, and suddenly, without any introduction, asked me if I had any money by me.
"Yes," I answered, honestly enough.
"Well, then, I'll have to accept a loan from you," he said, carelessly, as if we had been long discussing the matter.
"I'm sorry I cannot oblige you, sir," said I. rising from my place and beginning to walk up and down, feeling mighty uncomfortable.
"Come, come, my lad," said he, in a voice he tried to make very friendly, "we soldiers have our ups and downs, and always help each other. Your Uncle Scottos would be proud to help a brother officer."
"That may be, sir, but, according to your own shewing, you never had the honour to know my Uncle Scottos, who is not here to answer for himself."
"You little puppy!" he roared. "Do you know nothing of what should be between gentlemen?"
He saw by my face he had made a mistake, and at once went on a new tack. "But there, there!—you must pardon my heat. I am only a rough soldier and slow to take a jest. Believe me, I had no intent to frighten you."
I was the angry one now. "I know nothing of your intents, Captain Creach," said I; "I am only sure of one thing, and that is, you did not and cannot frighten me. I have just enough money for us to get to Rome, and could not make a loan to you or to any other were I ever so willing. So there the matter rests."
The words were barely out of my mouth before he rushed at me. I was on my guard, and, throwing a chair in his way, nearly upset him; but he recovered before I could get at him, and in a minute more had me by the collar, shaking the life out of me. I did my best to butt him with my head, but could not get room; so I was kicking and striking and biting like an otter, making noise enough to bring the house down, when the door flew open, and in rushed Angus. He never waited a moment, but attacked the Captain behind, catching his legs very cleverly; whereupon I, giving a sudden shove, down we went, all three together, rolling over and over among the chairs and under the table.
Angus and I were both as strong as ponies, and such a fight had no terrors for us; and the Captain, being a small man, we were not so very unequal: thus it was in a trice we had him flat on his back, Angus on his two legs and I straddling on his chest, with my knees on his arms, doing my best to get at my French knife, so I might cut his wicked throat, when in burst Mr. O'Rourke, who, catching my hand just as I had my knife free, upset us both and dragged the Captain to his feet.
"What's all this jerrymahoo about, you young savages?" he shouted; but I could not answer, as I was wild to get at the Captain again, now I had recovered my wind; and a good day's work it would have been for me and others had I done so. However, Mr. O'Rourke held me at arm's-length until I quieted down, and, after sending away the inn people who were crowding through the door, now they saw all danger over, I panted out the story.
"You damned scoundrel!" said Mr. O'Rourke, though he was a most religious man and almost as good as a priest. "You scoundrel; faith I'm sorry I didn't let this baby finish you! But we'll tan your cowardly hide for this or my name's not O'Rourke!
"But look at the creature's ears!" he broke out of a sudden; "he has them as big as the Prophet's ass! And to think of me being taken in by the animal!" Thereupon he turned him round and bade us mark the way in which his ears stuck out from his shaven pate, now his wig was knocked off, while he roared with laughter.
But this all went sadly against my grain, as I was all for punishing the rogue then and there, and I knew Mr. O'Rourke would soon make this impossible if he went on with his jesting. However, he pointed out that to such a man the disgrace would mean as much as his punishment, and he would hand him over to the magistrate himself. "The creature sets up to be a gentleman, but if we can get one of his shoulders stamped with a hot iron, as is their fashion hereabouts, 'twill take a mighty fine coat to cover that same," he explained, much to our satisfaction. So the innkeeper was called and bidden to lock him up securely; and off marched the Captain with his white face, looking half dazed, but offering no words or apology whatever.
 
"IN BURST MR. O'ROURKE"
When we were alone, Mr. O'Rourke burst out, blaming himself for leaving me alone with such a man, calling himself every name he could lay his tongue to for being taken in with the first scoundrel he picked up. "'Tis a pretty ass I have made of myself, turning up my nose at your consorting with a poor, harmless Jew, and then to take up myself with a picaroon of a captain, and perhaps play second fiddle to the hangman! Job no doubt had me in his eye when he said that 'multitude of years should teach wisdom' (et annorum multitudo doceret sapientiam), but my wisdom was a fool to your folly."
However, after awhile we all cooled down, and by the time dinner was on the table were in our sober senses again. Then in comes Luigi, who must hear the whole story over, and sets us all laughing merrily with his antics, feigning to weep when we told how Mr. O'Rourke would not let me slit the Captain's throat; but when he heard what we had done with the scamp, he was off in a trice and back as soon, dragging the innkeeper with him and bursting with anger. It was soon explained. The Captain had escaped, and Luigi was for haling the innkeeper before the judge; but the poor man cried so piteously, and so besought us not to undo him, that we took compassion, and contented ourselves with ordering our caleche and starting again on our journey, Mr. O'Rourke promising to see us in Rome.
We arrived at Viterbo through a fine stretch of country, more especially about the Lake of Bolsena, but passed through no towns of importance. We had heard such tales of robbers that we here determined to better provide for our personal safety; so we set out from the inn, and, with the help of Luigi, found an armourer, with whom we bargained for a pair of pistols, and had them at a fair price. He had some good blades as well, and, now we had begun to have a hankering for weapons, I desired one greatly, but was dissuaded by Luigi, who pointed out they were much too long for me to carry, and, further, that for young gentlemen going to college we had weapons enough and to spare.
About a mile from the town we came on a hill so steep we were forced to dismount and climb on foot. "At the top we will find a guard of archers," said Luigi, "who have been there ever since the days of Innocent the Eleventh."
"Not the same ones, surely?" said I, quizzing him, after the manner of Mr. O'Rourke.
"I don't doubt it," he returned, gravely; "most of them are old and useless enough to have been there since the days of Nero. But that is not my point; that is in the story, if you can find it."
"Go on with your tale, Luigi; he knows nothing of history," said Angus.
"History, indeed, you dunderhead!" said I, much disgusted. "Can't you see a joke when 'tis under your nose?"
"I've been carrying my nose in my pocket, according to Mr. O'Rourke's direction, ever since I came into the country, and I don't find your joke so fine that I need take it out," he returned, with a silly air of conceit which angered me mightily.
"See here, my fine fellow!" said I, stopping short; "if you have a mind to try any of your Prester John airs with me, you had best put your head where your nose is, or the one will soon be as little use to you as the other."
"Oh, gentlemen, gentlemen!" cried Luigi at this, much distressed; "I have not even yet begun my story!"
"Don't mind us, Luigi," said Angus, quite cool; "go on with your story. We are only getting the laugh in at the wrong end. I did not mean to ruff you, Shonaidh," he added, very handsomely, for Angus could be quite the gentleman when he desired.
"I know you didn't," I returned, without offence; "but you shouldn't laugh at me when I am trying a joke. My temper is short."
On this we made up without further words, and both turned to Luigi, begging him to continue with his tale.
"Well, as I was saying, 'twas in the days of Innocent the Eleventh, when a young Polish friar, on his way towards Rome, was here arrested by two robbers, who, after relieving him of his purse, which they found much too light for one of his comfortable appearance, threatened him with torture unless he revealed where the rest of his money was hid. He thereupon owned to having some gold pieces in the soles of his shoes, on which they bade him sit down and started to strip his feet. Now, he being very powerful, and marking the favourable position of his tormentors, seized his opportunity and the robbers at the same moment, and brought their heads together with so happy a crack that he rendered them senseless. Seeing their state, he repeated his experiment with such success that he soon put an end to their rogueries forever. Rejoicing at his good fortune, he took all their effects, piled them on one of his horses, and, mounted on the other, made his way into Rome with all the honours of war. The Pope, hearing of his adventure, desired to see so remarkable a man, and the young friar was accordingly brought into his presence. When asked how he, a single man. accomplished so extraordinary a feat, he folded his hands and replied modestly in Latin: "May it please Your Holiness, I seized each of them softly by the hair of his head and softly knocked the head of the one against the head of the other until they both were dead!" And His Holiness, who was a man of a merry humour, laughed heartily at the simplicity of the answer, and not only gave the stout friar both the goods of the robbers and his blessing, but posted a guard here as well, that no other student might be put to a like proof of his courage."
However, we saw no robbers, great or small, perhaps because we were so well prepared, though we went through a country full of woods and wild places, well fitted for this class of gentry. We continued our journey without further matter worth mention until, as we drove out of a little village called Baccano, Luigi jumped up in great excitement, and, crying to the postilion to stop, fairly shouted in his joy, "Ecco Roma!" And far away in the distance, over the rising mists of the morning, we saw the cross of St. Peter twinkling like a star of gold.
We were all impatience now and longed for no more adventures, but, despite our longing, it was nearly evening before we drove in by the Porto del Popolo, and black night before we passed our baggages at the Dogana, and Luigi deposited us in safety at the Scots College, in the via delle Quattro Fontane.