graph of the Tragic Theater at Pompeii,
which he had given me from his collection.
When I sat at work I half faced a deep,
upholstered chair which stood at the end of
my table, its high back against the wall. I
had bought it with great care. My instructor
sometimes looked in upon me when he was out
for an evening tramp, and I noticed that he
was more likely to linger and become talka-
tive if I had a comfortable chair for him to
sit in, and if he found a bottle of Benedictine
and plenty of the kind of cigarettes he liked,
at his elbow. He was, I had discovered, parsi-
monious about small expenditures -- a trait
absolutely inconsistent with his general char-
acter. Sometimes when he came he was silent
and moody, and after a few sarcastic remarks
went away again, to tramp the streets of Lin-
coln, which were almost as quiet and oppres-
sively domestic as those of Black Hawk.
Again, he would sit until nearly midnight,
talking about Latin and English poetry, or
telling me about his long stay in Italy.
I can give no idea of the peculiar charm
and vividness of his talk. In a crowd he was
nearly always silent. Even for his classroom
he had no platitudes, no stock of professorial
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