COMPANIONS OF MY SOLITUDE. 165 



time that the master somewhat recovered from his 

 fright and recommenced painting and making 

 Buffalmacco work at night, he was sure to be pun- 

 ished by seeing the little wandering lights, the 

 priest earnestly advised him to give up the prac- 

 tice. The story became known, and Tafi and 

 the other painters dared not for a long time work 

 at night. 



But I should like to see the company of beetles 

 that would allow me to fasten lighted or unlighted 

 tapers to their backs. 



Even the geese genus Anser, not Homo 

 that one meets around this brook are prone to 

 look upon me with suspicion. They puff out their 

 fatness and gaze at myself and dredger with an 

 air of superiority that is quite crushing. Evi- 

 dently, as the Yakimas of Washington Territory 

 affirm, geese were once human beings. Else 

 when did they learn that bug-hunting is foolish- 

 ness ? They seem to be of that opinion now. It 

 was the son of the Sun, so say the Indians, who 

 caused a number of persons to swim through a 

 lake of magic oil that turned them all to animals. 

 But these animals were fat only where they had 

 touched the oil. The person who became the bear 

 dived, and so that animal is fat all over. But the 

 one who became the goose swam on the surface, 

 and that is the reason why geese are fat only to 

 the water-line. No, the backs of the geese will 

 never be very fat, and their scornful glances per- 



