him is too
preposterous to be taken seriously. Or perhaps he had invested all his
imagination in superstitious securities. Or perhaps I had acted better
than I knew and had seriously alarmed him. But I had not imitated
Giovanni's realism so closely as to deceive Toto. I looked at him. He
was beaming all over his face as he shook his head and said:

"I am not afraid."

The big waiter scowled and went away, abandoning the reckless child to
his fate. Toto put his hand on my arm to attract my attention and
emphasise what he was going to say:

"When you are at home, please will you send me a postcard with a picture
of London?"

"Certainly, my boy; I'll send you as many as you like."

This is all the conversation I had with Toto before I left Messina, which
I did that day, but we have corresponded. On returning to London I sent
him a card with a view of Oxford Circus full of traffic and, not knowing
his full name, addressed it:

A Don Toto,
Piccolo Cameriere all' Albergo Trinacria,
Messina.

He replied at once, thanking me profusely for the beautiful view of what
he called I Quattro Canti di Londra and promising to send me some prickly
pears as soon as they were at their best, having heard that they do not
mature in London. Presently I sent him another post-card secretly hoping
he would show them both to the stupid big waiter. He replied at once
and, among other things, asked if I should like him to come to London.

I never like them to come to London unless they are sure of some settled
employment, and even then I would rather see them in their native
surroundings; so I replied:

No, Toto. Here we already have too many Italians, Austrians, Swiss
and Germans. They come because they believe that the streets of
London are paved with gold, but too many of them find our streets
guttered by the tears of foreign waiters who have failed to find
work. You had much better stay where you are like a good boy, and I
will come to Messina and see you next autumn.

Then a basket arrived containing the prickly pears in a state of pulp,
exuding juice from every pore because he had not attempted to pack them,
and accompanied by a card wishing me a Merry Christmas.

Early in the morning of the 28th December, 1908, Messina was destroyed b