supercilious and not over-polite secretary that this proud city
possesses no such institution. A certain priest, he added, would give me
all the desired information.

Canonico Rizzo was a delightful old man, with snowy hair and candid blue
eyes. Nothing, it seemed, could have given him greater pleasure than my
appearance at that particular moment. He discoursed awhile, and sagely,
concerning England and English literature, and then we passed on, _via_
Milton, to Calvin and the Puritan movement in Scotland; next, _via_
Livingstone, to colonial enterprises in Africa; and finally, _via_
Egypt, Abyssinia, and Prester John, to the early history of the eastern
churches. Byzantinism--Saint Nilus; that gave me the desired
opportunity, and I mentioned the object of my visit.

"The history of Rossano? Well, well! The secretary of the municipality
does me too much honour. You must read the Book of Genesis and Hesiod
and Berosus and the rest of them. But stay! I have something of more
modern date, in which you will find these ancient authors conveniently
classified."

From this book by de Rosis, printed in 1838, I gleaned two facts,
firstly, that the city of Rossano is now 3663 years old--quite a
respectable age, as towns go--and lastly, that in the year 1500 it had
its own academy of lettered men, who called themselves "I spensierati,"
with the motto _Non alunt curai--_an echo, no doubt, of the Neapolitan
renaissance under Alfonso the Magnificent. The popes Urban VIII and
Benedict XIII belonged to this association of "thoughtless ones." The
work ends with a formidable list of local personages distinguished in
the past for their gentleness of birth and polite accomplishments. One
wonders how all these delicately nurtured creatures can have survived at