w that my father-in-law is alive, and that
he will pay me the dowry, if I consent to leave my child with him. I am
aware that it is his fancy and I will give him the boy."

"Does the papa know you?"

"No; he is not even acquainted with my name."

"Have you any fine goods on board your tartan?"

"Yes; come and breakfast with me; you can see all I have."

"Very willingly."

Delighted at hearing that oracles were not yet defunct, and satisfied
that they will endure as long as there are in this world simple-minded
men and deceitful, cunning priests, I follow the good man, who took me to
his tartan and treated me to an excellent breakfast. His cargo consisted
of cotton, linen, currants, oil, and excellent wines. He had also a stock
of night-caps, stockings, cloaks in the Eastern fashion, umbrellas, and
sea biscuits, of which I was very fond; in those days I had thirty teeth,
and it would have been difficult to find a finer set. Alas! I have but
two left now, the other twenty-eight are gone with other tools quite as
precious; but 'dum vita super est, bene est.' I bought a small stock of
everything he had except cotton, for which I had no use, and without
discussing his price I paid him the thirty-five or forty sequins he
demanded, and seeing my generosity he made me a present of six beautiful
botargoes.

I happened during our conversation to praise the wine of Xante, which he
called generoydes, and he told me that if I would accompany him to Venice
he would give me a bottle of that wine every day including the
quarantine. Always superstitious, I was on the point of accepting, and
that for the most foolish reason-namely, that there would be no
premeditation in that strange resolution, and it might be the impulse of
fate. Such was my nature in those days; alas; it is very different now.
They say that it is because wisdom comes with old age, but I cannot
reconcile myself to cherish the effect of a most unpleasant cause.

Just as I was going to accept his offer he proposes to sell me a very
fine gun for ten sequins, saying that in Corfu anyone would be glad of it
for twelve. The word Corfu upsets all my ideas on the spot! I fancy I
hear the voice of my genius telling me to go back to that city. I
purchase the gun for the ten sequins, and my honest Cephalonian, admiring
my fair dealing, gives me, over and above our bargain, a beautiful
Turkish pouch well filled with powder and shot. Carrying my gun, with a
good warm cloak