He preceded me up some back stairs into a room occupied by a lady in one bed, her female attendant in another and, in various shakedowns on the floor, another woman, two men and more children than I could count by the light of one candle.  We picked our way among them to the farther end of the room where there was a door.  Peppino produced a key and opened it; to my surprise it led into my room.

“Buon riposo,” said Peppino, and was about to disappear the way we had come when I reminded him that the professor was to have the other bed.  I had some difficulty with him, but when I had hung his coral round my neck he gave way.

After this I saw a great deal of the professor.  He said he was forty-five and he was perhaps the most simple-minded, gentle creature I have ever known.  Being with him was like listening to a child strumming on a worn-out piano.  As we sat down to dinner next day he asked if he could have a little carbonate of soda.  Peppino, with a

glance at the bill of fare, regretted that there was none in the house.  The professor then explained to me the advantages of taking carbonate of soda before meals and said that some chemists gave one an enormous quantity for two soldi.  Evidently the professor had not a good digestion.  He helped me with his own fork to a piece of meat off his own plate.  This is a mark of very great friendliness and makes me think of Joseph entertaining his brethren when they went down to buy corn in Egypt.

“And he took and sent messes unto them from before him; but Benjamin’s mess was five times so much as any of theirs.”

And I think of Menelaus in the Odyssey sending a piece of meat to Telemachus and Pisistratus when they supped with him at Lacedæmon; and of Ulysses, at supper in the palace of Alcinous, sending a piece of meat to Demodocus to thank him for his singing, in spite of the pain his lays had caused him.

I always accept the gift, after deprecating the honour with words and gestures, and a little later, in accordance with what I believe to be the modern practice, return the compliment.

The professor was pleased to have an opportunity of improving his knowledge of England and asked me many questions.  I am afraid he only pretended to believe some of the things I told him.  I said that in England a man who is the proprietor of the house he lives in is not on that account necessarily a rich man; he may or may not be, it all depends.  He was surprised to hear that I had travelled from London to Castellinaria in less than three weeks; that the channel passage takes under twelve hours and has been known to be smooth; that London is not actually on the coast but a few miles inland and on a river; that we have other towns even more inland and that after the death of Queen Victoria, England did not become a republic.

I had the professor at a disadvantage because, being a Sicilian, his natural politeness would not permit him to show that in his opinion I was drawing upon my imagination after the manner of travellers.  Moreover Peppino declared that all I said was quite true and added that what in Sicily is like this (holding his hand out with the palm upwards) in England is like that (holding it with the palm downwards).  Nevertheless I

was beginning to feel that I had gone far enough and had better be careful, so when he asserted that England refuses Home Rule to New Zealand, and grinds her colonies down under the iron heel of the oppressor because she cannot afford to lose the amount they pay us in our iniquitous income tax, I did not contradict him.  It is possible that I misunderstood him, or he may have guessed I did not agree, or there may have been even more confusion in his mind than I suspected, for he afterwards said that the income tax paid by the colonies went into the private pocket of Mr. Chamberlain, and that explained why the Secretary for the Colonies was so rich.

“My dear professor,” I said, “permit me to tell you something; my poor mother had a cousin whose name was James.  He was perhaps the most simple-minded, gentle creature I have ever known.  Being with him was like listening to—well, it was like listening to certain kinds of music.  He lived by himself in the country, with an old woman to do for him, and was over sixty before we came to know him; then we were all very fond of him and often wondered what the dear, good old gentleman could

have been like in his early days.  It has just occurred to me that you, sir, are like what cousin James must have been at your age.”

He was overwhelmed; his eyes filled with tears; he said he should remember for all his life the flattering words he had just heard; they constituted the most pleasing and genteel compliment he had ever received; he shook hands with me and remained silent as a sign that his emotion was too deep for more words.