His hospitality sent me on my way rejoicing--glad that I had seen the unspeakable little mountain town, thrice glad that I had looked upon Mons Moscius and trodden by the river Pellena.

Rain fell in torrents, but I no longer cared.

When presently the train arrived, I found a comfortable corner, and looked forward with a restful sigh to the seven hours' travel which would bring me into view of Sicily.
In the carriage sat a school-boy, a book open upon his knee.

When our eyes had met twice or thrice, and an ingenuous smile rose to his handsome face, I opened conversation, and he told me that he came every day to school from a little place called San Sostene to Catanzaro, there being no nearer instruction above the elementary; a journey of some sixteen miles each way, and not to be reckoned by English standards, for it meant changing at the Marina for the valley train, and finally going up the mountain side by _diligenza_.

The lad flushed with delight in his adventure--a real adventure for him to meet with some one from far-off England.