Fortunately, I glanced at the beginning, and there, on the first page, was written "Francois Lenormant, Membre de l'Institut de France"-- the date, 1882.

The small, delicate character was very suggestive of the man as I conceived him; to come upon his name thus unexpectedly gave me a thrill of pleasure; it was like being brought of a sudden into the very presence of him whose spirit had guided, instructed, borne me delightful company throughout my wanderings.

When I turned to the curator, and spoke of this discovery, sympathy at once lighted up his face.

Yes, yes! He remembered the visit; he had the clearest recollection of Lenormant--"_un bravo giovane_!" Thereupon, he directed my attention to a little slip of paper pasted into the inner cover of the book, on which were written in pencil a few Greek letters; they were from the hand of Lenormant himself, who had taken out his pencil to illustrate something he was saying about a Greek inscription in the museum.

Carefully had this scrap been preserved by the good curator; his piety touched and delighted me.
I could have desired no happier incident for the close of my journey; by lucky chance this visit to the museum had been postponed till the last morning, and, as I idled through the afternoon about the Via Plutino, my farewell mood was in full harmony with that in which I had landed from Naples upon the Calabrian shore.