Why, their vino di Vesuvio is for all the world like cider; I thought at first I was being swindled--not an impossible thing in these regions.

I must tell you a story about a party of Americans I encountered at Bosco Reale." The guests numbered seven or eight; with one exception besides Elgar, they were Germans, all artists of one kind or another, fellows of genial appearance, loud in vivacious talk.

The exception was a young Englishman, somewhat oddly dressed, and with a great quantity of auburn hair that rolled forward upon his distinguished brow.

At a certain _pension_ on the Mergellina he was well known.

He sat opposite Elgar, and had been in conversation with him.
Mallard cared little what he ate, and ate little of any thing.