amused us much. "Could, we have dinner soon?" "Ready, signori, ready directly," said the Padrone, whose name was Mercurio, in build and appearance anything but one's ideal of the lithe messenger of the Gods. "Ready" in Sicily means any time, and when dinner came, this was the order of the menu: Omelette, sweet cakes, roast goat, cold anchovies in oil, and a sweetmeat like toffee, with red wine and coffee; Mercurio hovering round the table, and entreating us to eat well. The head waiter's name was "Salvatore" (Saviour), his wife's name "Providenza" (Providence). She also attended to our wants, with a baby in her arms. As usual in Sicily, the beds were excellent, the floors stone, quite destitute of rugs or carpets. In the morning a tall, stern-featured, elderly maid, of the Meg Merrilies type, entered my room with tub and water, and standing by my bed with hands outstretched, she said, "Levati, Signor, Levati, Ecco l'aqua,"—"Get up, sir, get up, behold the water." But for all her fierce look, she rejoiced in the name "Peppina," the little one.
As nothing better than rolls, coffee and milk are provided for breakfast, I went out early to buy eggs in the morning market. Bargaining with the owner of a stall of country produce, as one must always do, since fixed prices are unknown, I succeeded in reducing the price from threepence to a penny. Everyone buys the day's food in this way, and an elderly well-dressed man watched with great interset the foreigner's business; when the bargain was complete, he said with much approval, "Va bene"—"Good!"—quite pleased at my success. We found some excellent company in the salon of the hotel at night. A South Austrian, with his family, who owns property in the
