European guides know about enough English to tangle everything up so that a man can make neither head nor tail of it．They know their story by heart，—the history of every statue，painting，cathedralcathedral，or other wonder they show you．They know it and tell it as a parrot would，and if you interrupt，and throw them off the track，they have to go back and begin over again．All their lives long，they are employed in showing strange things to foreigners and listening to their bursts of admiration．It is human nature to take delight in exciting admiration．It is what prompts children to say“smart”things，do absurd ones，and in other ways “show off”when company is present．It is what makes gossips turn out in rain and storm to go and be the first to tell a startling bit of news．Think，then，what a passion it becomes with a guide，whose privilege it is，every day，to show to strangers wonders that throw them into perfect ecstasies of admiration！He gets so that he could not by any possibility live in a soberer atmosphere．After we discovered this，we never went into ecstasies anymore，we never admired anything，we never showed any but impassible faces and stupid indifference in the presence of the sublimest wonders a guide had to display．We had found their weak point．We have made good use of it ever since．We have made some of those people savage，at times，but we have never lost our serenity．The doctor asks the questions generally，because he can keep his countenance，and look more like an inspired idiot，and throw more imbecility into the tone of his voice than any man that lives．It comes natural to him．The guides in Genoa are delighted to secure an American party，because Americans so much wonder，and deal so much in sentiment and emotion before any relic of Columbus．Our guide there fidgeted fidget about as if he had swallowed a spring mattress．He was full of animationanimation，full of impatience．He said：
“Come wis me，genteel men！—Come！I show you ze let ter writing by Christopher Colombo！—Write it himself！—Write it wis his own hand！—Come！”
He took us to the municipalmunicipal palace．After much impressive fumbling of keys and opening of locks，the stained and aged document was spread before us．The guide’s eyes sparkled．He danced about us and tapped the parchmentparchment with 193his finger：—“What I tell you，genteel men！Is it not so？See！Handwriting by Christopher Colombo！
—Write it himself！”
We looked indifferent，—unconcerned．The doctor examined the document very deliberately，during a painful pause．Then he said，without any show of interest，“Ah，Ferguson，what did you say was the name of the party who wrote this？”
“Christopher Colombo！A great Christopber Colombo！”
Another deliberate examination．
“Ah，did he write it himself，or—or how？”
“He write it himself！—Christopher Colombo！he’s own handwriting，write by himself！”
Then the doctor laid the document down and said，“Why，I have seen boys in America only fourteen year sold that could write better man that．”
“But zis is ze great Christo—”
“I don’t care who it is！It’s the worst writing I ever saw．Now you mustn’t think you can impose onimpose on us because we are strangers．We are not fools，by a good deal．If you have got any specimens of penmanshippenmanship of real merit，trot them out！—and if you haven’t，drive on！”
We drove on．The guide was considerably shaken up，but he made one more venture．He had something which he thought would overcome us．He said：
“Ah，genteel men，you come wis me！I show you beautiful，O，magnificent bust of Christopher Colombo！—splendid，grand，magnificent！”
He brought us before the beautiful bust，—for it was beautiful，—and sprang back and struck an attitude：
“Ah，look，gentlemen！—beautiful，grand bust of Christopher Colombo！Beautiful bust，beautiful pedestal！”
The doctor put up his eyeglass，—procured for such occasions：—“Ah，what did you say this gentleman’s name was？”
“Christopher Colombo！Ze great Christopher Colombo！”
“Christopher Colombo，—the great Christopher Colombo．Well，what did he do？”
“Discover America！—discover America，O，the devil！”
“Discover America．No，—that statement will hardly wash．We are just from America ourselves．We heard nothing about it．Christopher Colombo，—pleasant name，—is he dead？”
“O，corpodi Baccho！—three hundred years！”
“What did he die of？”
“I do not know．I cannot tell．”
“Smallpox，think？”
“I do not know，genteel men，I do not know what he die of．”
“Measles，likely？”
“Maybe，maybe．I do not know，I think he die of some things．”
“Parents living？”
“Impossible！”
“Ah，which is the bust and which is the pedestal？”
“Santa Maria！—zis the bust！—zis ze pedestal！”
“Ah，I see，I see，—happy combination，—very happy combination indeed．Is—is this the first time this gentle man was ever on a bustbust？”
