[Rose describes an encounter near the town of Volteggio, northern Italy]

[Letter II, vol. 1]

Here [Mount Bocchetta] a little scene awaited me which I shall describe as characteristic of the country and its inhabitants. I had already fallen upon my breakfast and a bottle of hill-wine, which then appeared to me delicious, when my attention was excited by a singularly fine voice, though not always in tune with the guitar which accompanied it. I turned round, and saw a boy of about sixteen in the door-way, of an extremely prepossessing appearance, whose countenance and manner admirably seconded the subject of his air. I had already woven a little romance for him in my imagination, and, on his finishing, called him to me, in order to inquire into his story. His answer was pretty much like that of the knife-grinder of notorious memory. He was the son of a tobacconist. At the age of nine years old, he, it seems, arrived at a full conviction of the unprofitableness of this calling and the poverty of the paternal house. He therefore took his resolution; broke loose, bought a guitar, and from that time forward had wandered about the world! The countenance of this self-taught musician had now resolved itself into a sort of slangish style of expression, which amply confirmed the truth of his narration. He had been before inspired by his song, no uncommon instance of Italian susceptibility.