as discussed, everybody retired to his own apartment,
the sergeant slipped into bed, and my companion and I slept without any
further disturbance till morning, when we got up, went to breakfast,
paid our reckoning, and set forward in expectation of overtaking the
waggon; in which hope, however, we were disappointed for that day. As
we exerted ourselves more than usual, I found myself quite spent with
fatigue, when we entered a small village in the twilight. We inquired
for a public-house, and were directed to one of a very sorry appearance.
At our entrance the landlord, who seemed to be a venerable old man, with
long gray hair, rose from a table placed by a large fire in a very neat
paved kitchen, and with a cheerful countenance accosted us in these
words: "Salvete, pueri. Ingredimini." I was not a little pleased to hear
our host speak Latin, because I was in hope of recommending myself to
him by my knowledge in that language; I therefore answered, without
hesitation, "Dissolve frigus, ligna super foco--large reponens." I
had no sooner pronounced these words, than the old gentleman, running
towards me, shook me by the hand, crying, "Fili mi dilectissime! unde
venis?--a superis, ni fallor?" In short, finding we were both read in
the classics, he did not know how to testify his regard enough; but
ordered his daughter, a jolly rosy-cheeked damsel who was his sole
domestic, to bring us a bottle of his quadrimum, repeating from Horace
at the same time, "Deprome quadrimum sabina, O Tholiarche, merum diota."
This was excellent ale of his own brewing, of which he told us he had
always an amphora four years old, for the use of himself and friends.

In the course of our conversation, which was interlarded with scraps
of Latin, we understood that this facetious person was a schoolmaster,
whose income being small, he was fain to keep a glass of good liquor for
the entertainment of passengers by which he made shift to make the
two ends of the year meet. "I am this day," said he, "the happiest old
fellow in his majesty's dominions. My wife, rest her soul, is in heaven.
My daughter is to be married next week; but the two chief pleasures of
my life are these (pointing to the bottle and a large edition of Horace
that lay on the table). I am old, 'tis true--what then? the more reason
I should enjoy the small share of life that remains, as my friend
Flaccus advises: 'Tu ne quaesieris (scire nefas) quem mihi, quem tibi
finem dii dederint. C