FIGHTING THE INSECTS 



vehicle of some kind. There was nothing to be had except a 

 big two-wheeled haycart without springs and drawn by a single 

 horse. The innkeeper, however, was a very agreeable man, and 

 he evidently had a great admiration for Celli. He placed four 

 chairs in the cart, and we jolted into Rome along the famous 

 but badly conditioned Appian Way. Celli called it "our triumphal 

 procession into Rome." 



That was the last time I ever saw Celli except that he came 

 down to the train to see me off for France the next morning. 

 He died a year or so later. He was a wonderful man, and Italy 

 owes him much. 



I have said that I left my camera on the train on Sunday 

 morning. We telegraphed ahead, notifying the conductor, and 

 asked him to leave the camera at the station in Rome, but on 

 the following morning it had not arrived and I went on to 

 Marseilles without it. Celli promised to get it for me and for- 

 ward it to the American Express Company at Marseilles. I 

 waited for it there four or five days, and then, having to go on 

 to Spain and Portugal, bought a new camera. I remember with 

 great chagrin that I did not learn in the shop exactly how to 

 operate it, with the result that some very interesting snapshots 

 I took in Spain and Portugal were flat failures. It may be of 

 interest to state that when I arrived in Paris some weeks later 

 I found my camera at the American Express Company, where 

 it had been forwarded from Marseilles, and I had to pay what 

 seemed to me a very large sum in the way of customs' duty and 

 forwarding charges. The only photographic record of this very 

 interesting journey consists, therefore, in the excellent photo- 

 graphs taken by Dr. Vail in Italy. 



On the afternoon before our expedition to the Campagna, 

 and after our visit to Dr. Tiraboschi, I called at the laboratory 

 of the famous Battista Grassi. I found him to be a short stocky 



['34] 



