expression
is very severe; but in milder moments he offers a perverse resemblance
to some portraits of Washington.

All our days in Naples died like dolphins to the music which I have
tried to impart the sense of. The joyful noises which it was made up of
culminated for us on that evening when a company of the street and boat
musicians came into the hotel and danced and sang and played the
tarantella. They were of all ages, sexes, and bulks, and of divers
operatic costumes, but they were of one temperament only, which was glad
and childlike. They went through their repertory, which included a great
deal more than the tarantella, and which we applauded with an enthusiasm
attested by our contributions when the tambourine went round. Then they
repeated their selections, and at the second collection we guests of the
hotel repeated our contributions, but in a more guarded spirit. After
the second repetition the prettiest girl came round with her photographs
and sold them at prices out of all reason. Then we became very
melancholy, and began to steal out one by one. I myself did not stay for
the fourth collection, and I cannot report how the different points of
view, the Southern and the Northern, were reconciled in the event which
I am not sure was final. But I am sure that unless you can make
allowance for a world-wide difference in the Neapolitans from yourself
you can never understand them. Perhaps you cannot, even then.

V. POMPEII REVISITED

Because I felt very happy in going back to Pompeii after a generation,
and being alive to do so in the body, I resolved to behave handsomely by
the cabman who drove me from my hotel to the station. I said to myself
that I would do something that would surprise him, and I gave him his
fee and nearly a franc over; but it was I who was surprised, for he ran
after me into the station, as I supposed, to extort more. He was holding
out a franc toward me, and I asked the guide who was bothering me to
take him to Pompeii (where there are swarms of guides always on the
grounds) what the matter was. "It is false," he explained, and this
proved true, though whether the franc was the one I had given the driver
or whether it was one which he had thoughtfully substituted for it to
make good an earlier loss I shall now never know. I put it into my
pocket, wondering what I should do with it; the question what you shall
do with counterfeit money in Italy is one which is apt to recur as I