ryday life
differs so widely from our own, who see things consequently from a
different standpoint, how can we expect to regard any subject from all
its various aspects, which is essential if we are to pronounce an
opinion which----'

'Quite so,' he interrupted, eyeing me suspiciously, and obviously fearing
from my verbiage that he was about to be beset by a bore. (To tell the
truth, I was rather glad of his interruption, for the sentence was
beginning to get out of hand.) 'As you say, there's nothing like travel
to broaden the mind. Why,' he went on hurriedly, 'before I was eighteen I
had been up Aconcagua with Conway.'

'Really?' I said, trying to associate the two with a country and a date.
(Of course I knew where Aconcagua was--it was one of the most familiar
names in my geography, only for the moment memory was a little
refractory. Obviously it was a mountain, because he spoke of having been
'up' it. The name had a Spanish ending--of course! now I knew.) 'A
wonderful country, Mexico,' I went on.

'Mexico?' said he; 'yes, I know Mexico too. Been right through it, from
Chihuahua to Tehuentepec and Campeachy.' (This was unfortunate, but
apparently he didn't notice the mistake, for he went on at once.) 'But as
I was saying, I'd been up Aconcagua before I left school.'

'Good gracious,' I replied, amazed at his intrepidity, 'that must have
been an experience!'

'Rather,' said he: 'Haven't you read Conway's book? Published in '02, I
think.' He strode across the room and brought back a volume. 'Yes, 1902:
capital book; well worth reading. But Mexico,' he continued, without
giving me time to display the knowledge that I suddenly recollected as I
turned the pages of the book, 'Ah! there's a country for you! How I
enjoyed my first visit! Ever been there?'

'Alas! no,' I replied; 'but one of my fondest dreams has been to visit
the ancient cities of the new world.' (I thought that was rather nicely
put.)

'Charnay,' he said; 'you know Charnay, then? It was he who took me there
first. Early 'eighties, I think.' He pulled out another volume and turned
to the title-page. 'Here we are, "The Ancient Cities of the New World,"
'87. My copy is only the translation, published two years after the
original appeared.'

This puzzled me rather. If he had been eighteen in 1902, he must have
been a mere babe in 1885.

'Rather young, were you not, when you were there?' I ventured.

'Young? Why?' he replied.

'Oh, only because yo