and--last, but not least--one anti-pope! I will not particularize the
species beyond saying that they did not hop. Nor will I return to this
theme. Let the reader once and for all take _them_ for granted.
[Footnote: They have their uses, to be sure. Says Kircher: _Cunices
lectularii potens remedium contra quartanum est, si ab inscio aegro cum
vehiculo congrua potentur; mulierum morbis medentur et uterum prolapsum
solo odore in mum locum restituunt._] Let him note that most of the inns
of this region are quite uninhabitable, for this and other reasons,
unless he takes the most elaborate precautions. . . .

Where, then, do I generally go for accommodation?

Well, as a rule I begin by calling for advice at the chemist's shop,
where a fixed number of the older and wiser citizens congregate for a
little talk. The cafes and barbers and wine-shops are also
meeting-places of men; but those who gather here are not of the right
type--they are the young, or empty-headed, or merely thirsty. The other
is the true centre of the leisured class, the philosophers' rendezvous.
Your _speciale_ (apothecary) is himself an elderly and honoured man,
full of responsibility and local knowledge; he is altogether a superior
person, having been trained in a University. You enter the shop,
therefore, and purchase a pennyworth of vaseline. This act entitles you
to all the privileges of the club. Then is the moment to take a seat,
smiling affably at the assembled company, but without proffering a
syllable. If this etiquette is strictly adhered to, it will not be long
ere you are politely questioned as to your plans, your present
accommodation, and so forth; and soon several members will be vying with
each other to procure you a clean and comfortable room at half the price
charged in a hotel.