80 THE SALT OF MY LIFE 



courteous greeting : Buon giorno a Lei ! If a 

 fisherman, he might stop to ask how lack was 

 going, and endless little services were won by the 

 gift of a cigarette or even a mugine or two. Often 

 the creel was light ; some days it went back empty ; 

 but the mere result had no bearing on the enjoy- 

 ment of those lovely mornings, with a dip at 

 the Pancaldi baths before going home to break- 

 fast. 



Perhaps my most amusing fishing experience 

 in Italy was during a week at Naples. One after- 

 noon I had spent a couple of hours in the cool and 

 fascinating Aquarium, chatting with one of the 

 professors, Sr. Salvatore Lo Bianco, and watching 

 the feeding of the anemones and octopus. To- 

 wards sunset I strolled back to my hotel along 

 the parade, which I think they called the Chiata- 

 mone, when I came across a ragged sportsman 

 angling with a very long bamboo from the pave- 

 ment. He looked a merry wight, so I forgot that 

 there was only just time to dress for dinner and 

 sat on the parapet beside him. We smoked 

 together and were soon deep in as comfortable 

 a conversation as is attainable between broken 

 Tuscan and pure Neapolitan. We discussed rods, 

 and I asked him to let me feel the weight of his, 

 which must have been thirty feet long. With 

 native courtesy, which one would neither look for 

 nor find at home, he handed it to me as if it were 



