Art and Science 



six, but it was all in dialetto, so I could not 

 understand him, nor, when I had discovered 

 who he was, did I much try to do so. He 

 was a good creature, a trifle given to stealing 

 fruit and vegetables, but an amiable man 

 enough. He had had a long day with his 

 mule and me, and he only asked me five 

 francs. I gave him ten, for I pitied his poor 

 old patched boots, and there was a meekness 

 about him that touched me. " And now, 

 Socrates," said I at parting, "we go on our 

 several ways, you to steal tomatoes, I to filch 

 ideas from other people ; for the rest which 

 of these two roads will be the better going, 

 our father which is in heaven knows, but we 

 know not." 



I have never seen Mendelssohn, but there 

 is a fresco of him on the terrace, or open-air 

 dining-room, of an inn at Chiavenna. He is 

 not called Mendelssohn, but I knew him by 

 his legs. He is in the costume of a dandy of 

 some five-and-forty years ago, is smoking a 

 cigar, and appears to be making an offer of mar- 

 riage to his cook. Beethoven both my friend 



Mr. H. Testing Jones and I have had the good 



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