We passed through the strangest, funniest, undreampt-of old towns, wedded

to the customs and steeped in the dreams of the elder ages, and perfectly

unaware that the world turns round! And perfectly indifferent, too, as

to whether it turns around or stands still. They have nothing to do but

eat and sleep and sleep and eat, and toil a little when they can get a

friend to stand by and keep them awake. They are not paid for thinking

--they are not paid to fret about the world's concerns. They were not

respectable people--they were not worthy people--they were not learned

and wise and brilliant people--but in their breasts, all their stupid

lives long, resteth a peace that passeth understanding! How can men,

calling themselves men, consent to be so degraded and happy.

We whisked by many a gray old medieval castle, clad thick with ivy that

swung its green banners down from towers and turrets where once some old

Crusader's flag had floated. The driver pointed to one of these ancient

fortresses, and said, (I translate):

Do you see that great iron hook that projects from the wall just under

the highest window in the ruined tower?"

We said we could not see it at such a distance, but had no doubt it was

there.

Well," he said; "there is a legend connected with that iron hook.

Nearly seven hundred years ago, that castle was the property of the noble

The Innocents Abroad