'm in for any curiosity. But how long will
it take for us to see it?"

"It will take more dan one hour," said the guide.

"More than an hour!" said Frank. "Hm--that won't do--we've got to
go back at once to get our dinner. It's ready by this time, and
then we must leave for Rome."

"Well, it's a great pity," said David, sadly. "I think I should be
willing to go without my dinner, to see that wonderful tunnel."

"I shouldn't, then," said Frank, "not for all the tunnels in
the world."

"Nor should I," said Bob.

"But what a magnificent effect the lake has when embraced in our
view!" said Clive. "How finely is the description in Childe Harold
adapted to this scene--

'And near, Albano's scarce divided waves
Shine from a sister valley; and afar
The Tiber winds, and the broad ocean laves
The Latian coast, where sprung the Epic war,
"Arms and the man," whose reascending star
Rose o'er an empire; but beneath thy right
Fully reposed from Rome; and where yon bar
Of girdling mountains intercepts thy sight,
The Sabine farm was tilled, the weary bard's delight.'

"Clive," said David, who had waited patiently for him to finish
his poetical quotation, "you'll come--won't you?"

"Come? Come where?"

"Why, I want to visit the tunnel of the Alban Lake, and it'll take
an hour to do it. If we go, we'll lose our dinner. What do you say?
You don't think a dinner's the most important thing in the world?"

"Of course not," said Clive. "Besides, we can pick up some scraps
when we return, and eat them in the carriage."

"That's right," said David. "Boys," he continued, appealing to
Frank and Bob, "you'd better come."

"What! and lose our dinners?" cried Frank, scornfully. "Catch us
at it. No. We require more substantial food than poetry and old
ruins. Don't we, Bob?"

"Certainly," said Bob. "For my part poetry and old ruins never were
in my line. As for 'Arms and the man' and the 'Sabine farm,' why,
all I can say is, I always hated them. I detested Virgil, and
Horace, and Cicero, and the whole lot of them, at school; and why
I should turn round now, and pretend to like them, I don't know,
I'm sure. Horace and Virgil, indeed! Bother Horace and Virgil, I
say."

At such flippancy as this both David and Clive looked too much
pained to reply. They turned away in silence, and spoke to the
guide.

"So you're not coming back to dinner?" said Frank.

"No," said David; "we want to see that tunnel."