they were awaiting the
examination. Merrihew, holding grimly on to his hand-luggage, stood
waiting for Hillard at the iron gates fronting the railroad. Suddenly a
brilliantly uniformed man rushed up to him, bowed, and insisted on
taking the luggage. Merrihew protested feebly.

"But you are Meestaire Merrihoo, the friend of Meestaire Hil_lar_?"

"Yes."

"It is all right, then." The brilliant uniform prevailed, and Merrihew
surrendered the luggage, marveling. Hillard seemed to know every one
over here.

"Beautiful weather," said the uniform, as they passed through the gates.

"Fine," said Merrihew. From the corner of his eye he inspected the man
at his side. Certainly he could be no less than a captain in the navy,
with those epaulets and sleeve-bands.

"This is your first trip to Italy?"

"Yes. You people are very courteous here."

"Oh, we make that a part of our business."

A hundred cabmen yelled and shouted; but at a sign from Merrihew's new
acquaintance they subsided or turned their attention elsewhere. This
sign of respect made a still deeper impression on Merrihew.

"I'll bet a dollar he's an admiral!" he thought.

At length they came to an omnibus. The admiral beckoned to Merrihew to
step in. The luggage was thrown on top.

"I am very grateful to you," said Merrihew, offering his hand.

The admiral shook it somewhat doubtfully, tipped his cap, and went
hurriedly back to the _dogana_, or custom-house.

Shortly after Hillard appeared.

"We shan't go up in the omnibus," he said. "We'll take a carriage."

Merrihew looked around in vain for his distinguished acquaintance.

"What did you give the porter?" Hillard asked as they drove off.

"Porter? I didn't see any porter."

"Why, the chap who took your luggage from the customs."

"Good Lord! was that the porter? Why, I thought he was a personal friend
of yours and an admiral in the Italian navy. I shook hands with him!"

Hillard shouted with laughter.

What a noisy, smelly, picturesque city it was! The cries of the hawkers,
the importunities of the guides, the venders and cabmen, the whining
beggars; the clatter of horses and carriages and carts; strolling
singers, goats with tinkling bells, the barking of outcast dogs, and the
brawling and bawling of children, hundreds upon hundreds of children!
Merrihew grew dizzy trying to absorb the whole canvas at once. How the
sturdy little campagna ponies ran up and down the narrow winding
streets! Cra