Beautiful Rienzi; or, The secret vendetta — page 12: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

BEAUTIFUL RIENZI. CHAPTER I. WHAT I FIND IN MY NEW EXISTENCE, “ At first it seemed a little speck, And then it seemed a mist; It moved, and moved, and took at last A certain shape, I wist.’”—CoLmripas. Since my earliest childhood, I, Ivanilla Rienzi, had liveg with my grandmother, in Italy, who had claimed me be. cause I boreher name. I wasthe second daughter of her younger son, and would inherit her property. My father early in life had left his native land, gone to America, and literally carved for himself a fortune as master sculptor and architect in New York. Here he had married a sweet, gen- tle wife, and made his home; here his two daughters had been born, and from here, fourteen years ago, I, the youngest, then a tiny imp of four years, little red eyes and blurred, had been trotted down to a great puffing steamer, by the side of a stately grandmamma, who called me “* Povertina mia,” (my poor little one) and bade me kiss mamma good-by, for Iwas going away toa pretty home among grapes and oleanders. But I did not care for these visionary glories, but began to cry when I saw a pale, sad face which was the dearest on earth to me, and fastened my little fists like crabs in her beautiful hair, for then I CORNUCG OOO S (CO)