You Remember A Story Which
Illustrates This Scoffing Habit:
How the Roman Ambassador, whose
Greek left something to be desired, excited the uproarious derision
of the assembled Tarentines - with results that were no laughing
matter.
I used the opportunity of my conversation with the Director of the
Museum to ask his aid in discovering the river Galaesus. Who could
find himself at Taranto without turning in thought to the Galaesus,
and wishing to walk along its banks? Unhappily, one cannot be quite
sure of its position. A stream there is, flowing into the Little
Sea, which by some is called Galeso; but the country-folk commonly
give it the name of Gialtrezze. Of course I turned my steps in that
direction, to see and judge for myself.
To skirt the western shore of the Mare Piccolo I had to pass the
railway station, and there I made a few inquiries; the official with
whom I spoke knew not the name Galeso, but informed me that the
Gialtrezze entered the sea at a distance of some three kilometres.
That I purposed walking such a distance to see an insignificant
stream excited the surprise, even the friendly concern, of my
interlocutor; again and again he assured me it was not worth while,
repeating emphatically, "Non c'e novita." But I went my foolish
way. Of two or three peasants or fishermen on the road I asked the
name of the little river I was approaching; they answered,
"Gialtrezze." Then came a man carrying a gun, whose smile and
greeting invited question.
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