to the station and managed, by a miracle, to catch the night-train to
Cosenza.




XXI

MILTON IN CALABRIA


You may spend pleasant days in this city of Cosenza, doing nothing
whatever. But I go there a for set purpose, and bristling with energy. I
go there to hunt for a book by a certain Salandra, which was printed on
the spot, and which I have not yet been able to find, although I once
discovered it in an old catalogue, priced at 80 _grani._ Gladly would I
give 8000 for it!

The author was a contemporary of that Flying Monk of whom I spoke in
Chapter X, and he belonged to the same religious order. If, in what I
then said about the flying monk, there appears to be some trace of light
fooling in regard to this order and its methods, let amends be made by
what I have to tell about old Salandra, the discovery of whose book is
one of primary importance for the history of English letters. Thus I
thought at the time; and thus I still think, with all due deference to
certain grave and discerning gentlemen, the editors of various English
monthlies to whom I submitted a paper on this subject--a paper which
they promptly returned with thanks. No; that is not quite correct. One
of them has kept it; and as six years have passed over our heads, I
presume he has now acquired a title by "adverse possession." Much good