Mr. Voltaire tells us, without proof, that the first hint of Paradise Lost was taken from a farce called Adamo, written by a player; Dr. Pearce, that it was derived from an Italian tragedy, called Il Paradiso Perso; and Mr. Peck, that it was borrowed from a wild romance.

The marchesa was instantly leaning out of the lowest loop-hole, and calling in a loud voice, "AdamoAdamoAngelo, where are you?" (Adamo and Pipa his wife, and Angelo their son, were her attendants.)

" "Adamo, who is shooting on my land?" "Padrona, I do not know."

Adamo hung his head, either in shame or rage, but he dared not reply.

" Each step Adamo takes upward, the heat grows fiercer, the smoke that pours down denser.

Adamo passes his hand over the panel; it is unconsumed, the fire drawing the other way out by the window.

"O God, where is the marchesa?" A puff of wind from the open door for an instant raised the smoke and sparks; in that instant Adamo sees a dark heap lying on the floor close to the door.

Tenderly Adamo lays the marchesa down beside the fountain.

And stupid Adamo, whose head turns round so fast he must hold on by a tree not to fall again.) Silvestro and Fra Pacifico now rushed out of the darkness; Fra Pacifico aroused out of his first sleep.

The Signorina Enrica!" Pipa shouted to Adamo on the ladder.

where is the signorina?" Adamo's heart sank at her voice.

Adamo leaped from the ladder.

Adamo and Fra Pacifico stand upon the lower rungs, to steady it.

Adamo is wildly excited; Adamo wants to mount the ladder to help.

Adamo is wildly excited; Adamo wants to mount the ladder to help.

The marchesa was brought down by Adamo.

Adamo affected to work hard, but in reality he did nothing but sweep the leaves away from the border of the fountain, and remove the débris caused by the fire.

Even the marchesa, who concerned herself so little with such things, had often hidden him for his carelessness; but Adamo had a way of his own, and by that way he abided, slowly returning to it, spite of argument or remonstrance.

"Domine Dio orders the weather, not I," Adamo said in a grunt to Pipa when his mistress had specially upbraided him for not watering the lemon-trees ranged along the terraces.

So Adamo went to his dinner in all peace; and Argo and his friends knocked down the flowers, and scratched deep holes in the gravel, barking wildly all the time.

" "Yes, padrona," Adamo would reply, stolidly.

but Fra Pacifico, who had so often licked him in drawn battles, when the dog had leaped upon him, that now Argo fled at sight of his priestly garments with a howl! Adamo, who, after his mid-day meal, required tobacco and repose, would not move to save any one's soul, much less his body.

" Adamo added many more grave remarks between the puffs of his pipe, turning to Pipa, who sat beside him, distaff in hand, the silver pins, stuck into her glossy plaits, glistening in the sun.

When Adamo ceased he nodded his head like an oracle that had spoken, and dozed, leaning against the wall, until the sun had sunk to rest into a bed of orange and saffron, and the air was cooled by evening dews.

Adamo does not work, but Pipa does.