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The one I generally use is that of Molini Poesie Varie di Lodovico Ariosto, con Annotazioni. I quote Baretti, because he speaks with a corresponding enthusiasm. He calls the incident "a very rare proof of the irresistible powers of poetry, and a noble comment on the fables of Orpheus and Amphion," &c.
A King might have envied Pietro Molini, as -the straw rustling beneath him he laid down in his hairy capote, almost between the legs of his favourite horse. To do so will be to anticipate some years! Yet we would fain relate the end of the Vetturino. Crossing from Basle to Strasbourg, in the depth of winter, and descending an undulated valley, Pietro slept as usual.
On reaching the quay, he pressed the student's hand with grateful warmth, but dared not trust to words. On the deck of the steamer, assisting Thompson to arrange the portmanteaux, stood Pietro Molini. The natural gaiety of the old driver had received a considerable check at George's death.
On Evacuation Day, a New York festival, which is now nearly worn out, they invited him to a Corporation dinner, as a foreign officer of rank, and toasted him, wishing him the same success in South America that we had had here. He then went to Washington, under the name of Molini. There, as everywhere, he was received by the best society as General Miranda.
"Father Molini, a monk, was my confessor, and he expressed a desire to know the girl who was then my sweetheart. It was in the carnival time, and he gave us a moral discourse, telling us that he would take us to the play if we would promise to abstain for a week. We promised to do so, and at the end of the week we went to tell him that we had kept our word faithfully.
The next day Father Molini called on my sweetheart's aunt in a mask, and as she knew him, and as he was a monk and a confessor, we were allowed to go with him. Besides, we were mere children; my sweetheart was only a year older than I. "After the play the father took us to an inn, and gave us some supper; and when the meal was over he spoke to us of our sin, and wanted to see our privates.
Vittore Santado was a Roman; young inclined to corpulency -oily faced plausible and a most consummate rascal. Pietro Molini was a Milanese; elderly with hardly an ounce of flesh on his body with face scored and furrowed like the surface of the hedge pippin rough in his manners and the most honest of his tribe.
Pretty laughing girls, bare-footed and with marvellously white teeth, emerge from the open door-ways to smile pleasantly at us, for the workers of the Valle de’ Molini are thoroughly accustomed to the presence of strangers in their midst.
The next day Father Molini called on my sweetheart's aunt in a mask, and as she knew him, and as he was a monk and a confessor, we were allowed to go with him. Besides, we were mere children; my sweetheart was only a year older than I. "After the play the father took us to an inn, and gave us some supper; and when the meal was over he spoke to us of our sin, and wanted to see our privates.
His father made gauze stuffs, and kept a shop in the Rue Apolline. In 1787 the Abbé le Blond, the librarian of the Collège Mazarin, heard that Molini had sold a fine Aldine Horace to a shopkeeper. 'The next day, says Renouard, 'Le Blond came into my library. "Oh!
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