Boy. (Huskily, and blushing.) Club, church, pony.

Mrs W. Very right, love.  What is the subscription to the club and reading-room?

Banker. Three napoleons for the season.

Mrs W. Will you enter my name?  They give parties there sometimes, I believe.  Ah, then the church! how much is that?

Banker. Three sittings for you and your two children will not amount to quite so much as the club.

Mrs W. Of course not.  But even so it is a bad system.  The church ought not to be made a medium of traffic—­paying for church-seats always gives me a headache.  I think, do you know, two sittings will be sufficient; yes, put me down for two.  I will take Freddy in the morning, and his sister in the afternoon.  That is all, I believe.

Boy. (In an agitated manner, whispers) Pony!

Mrs W. Ah, true, dear!  Can you recommend me where to hire a pony for my boy?

Banker. To be sure I can. (Giving a card.) Here are the address and terms of a man who lets them out either by the day or month.  Ahem!—­would you like the money in gold or dollars?

Mrs W. I am much obliged.  On one other subject perhaps you could assist me.  There really seems no one worth knowing here at present, except a family who always reside at the baths, and often receive, and have written a book, and are quite celebrated.  I should like—­

Banker. (Hurriedly.) Really, that I fear I cannot manage for you.  The arrow-root—­

Mrs W. (Rising.) Oh, very well.  It is late, I am afraid.  I need not trouble you to-day for money, I believe.  I brought sufficient from Florence for the present; we will wait till the exchange is more favourable.

Banker. (Heartily.) No matter; you can have it whenever you please.  I shall come this afternoon and put all in order for you.

Mrs W. Thank you.  Good-morning. (Shakes hands, and exit.)

In this manner, and through similar interruptions, much of the banker’s time is taken up, till near three o’clock, which is the general dinner-hour at the baths.  Many people are supplied with this renovating meal from the Europa Hotel at the Ponte, which is presided over by one of the most honest, obliging, indefatigable, and enterprising landlords in existence.  Not only has he the direction of three hotels at the Ponte, two of them off-shoots from the parent Europa, but he undertakes the herculean task of daily sending forth thirty-six dinners to different families; the whole requiring a combination of artistic resource and fertility of intellect that fully justifies his right to the appellation bestowed on him by the ex-duke—­that of ‘the Napoleon of inn-keepers.’  These repasts are conveyed in large tin boxes, containing warm embers, on which are placed the various dishes of which the dinner is composed; and they are carried to their destinations on the heads of divers active, nimble-footed marmitons.  As the hour of three approaches, numbers of these emissaries are seen gliding swiftly along the roads; and I never yet encountered one without comparing him to the slave who appeared at the bidding of the Genius of the Lamp, and bore a sumptuous banquet to the presence of Aladin.