a crumbling
substance rather like ground charcoal. I smelt it, but there was no
perceptible odour; I put a little of it to my tongue, but the effect
was merely that of dust. Proceeding to treat it as if it were veritable
tea, I succeeded in imparting a yellowish tinge to the hot water, and,
so thirsty was I, this beverage tempted me to a long draught. There
followed no ill result that I know of, but the paper packet lay
thenceforth untouched, and, on leaving, I made a present of it to my
landlady.

To complete the domestic group, I must make mention of the
"chambermaid." This was a lively little fellow of about twelve years
old, son of the landlady, who gave me much amusement. I don't know
whether he performed chambermaid duty in all the rooms; probably the
fierce-eyed cook did the heavier work elsewhere, but upon me his
attendance was constant. At an uncertain hour of the evening he entered
(of course, without knocking), doffed his cap in salutation, and began
by asking how I found myself. The question could not have been more
deliberately and thoughtfully put by the Doctor himself. When I replied
that I was better, the little man expressed his satisfaction, and went
on to make a few remarks about the pessimo _tempo_. Finally, with a
gesture of politeness, he inquired whether I would permit him "_di fare
un po' di pulizia_"--to clean up a little, and this he proceeded to do
with much briskness. Excepting the good Sculco, my chambermaid was
altogether the most civilized person I met at Cotrone. He had a
singular amiability of nature, and his boyish spirits were not yet
subdued by the pestilent climate. If I thanked him for anything, he
took off his cap, bowed with comical dignity, and answered "_Grazie a
voi, Signore_." Of course these people never used the third person
feminine of polite Italian. Dr. Sculco did so, for I had begun by
addressing him in that manner, but plainly it was not familiar to his
lips. At the same time there prevailed certain forms of civility, which
seemed a trifle excessive. For instance, when the Doctor entered my
room, and I gave him "_Buon giorno_," he was wont to reply, "_Troppo
gentile_!"--too kind of you!

My newspaper boy came regularly for a few days, always complaining of
feverish symptoms, then ceased to appear. I made inquiry: he was down
with illness, and as no one took his place I suppose the regular
distribution of newspapers in Cotrone was suspended. When the poor
fellow agai