[3] It is curious, that in the original of the latest Paris edition, as also in the third edition, of 1707, the earliest I have been able to consult, and which was published under the superintendence of Le Sage, this passage stands, "un honnête _capareto_ de Viejo et de Mediana." There is a note to the word "_capareto_" giving its translation into French as _savetier_. Being puzzled by the double name of the village,--"de Viejo et de Mediana," I sought the assistance of a talented Spaniard, Signor Lazeu, and was surprised to find the Spanish for cobbler is "_zapatero de viejo_," or, "shoemaker of old (things)," and that it should consequently have stood in the original "_zapatero de viejo_ de Mediana." It has been doubted by many, among others the late H. D. Inglis, whether Le Sage were really the author of Le Diable Boiteux and Gil Blas; and it has been asserted that he merely translated these works from the unpublished manuscripts of some Spanish author. If the error in question were really that of Le Sage, it would certainly go far to confirm this assertion.--Trans. "It is upwards of twenty years since the banker left his father's house, for the Indies, in search of a better fortune than he could expect from his parents. During all this time, though lost to sight, he was ever present in their thoughts, and every night and morning saw the poor couple on their knees, praying Heaven to shield him with its protection; nor did they fail, on each succeeding Sabbath, to entreat their friend the curate to recommend their child to the prayers of his humble flock. As soon as the banker had returned to Spain, having hastily established his house of business, he resolved to ascertain, in person, the condition of his parents, whom, in his prosperity, he had never forgotten. With this view, having told his domestics he should be absent for a few days, he set out alone, about a fortnight ago, and journeyed on horseback towards the place of his birth. [Illustration: the banker reunited with his parents] "It was about ten o'clock at night, and the good old cobbler was sleeping peaceably beside his spouse, when they were suddenly awakened by the noise which the banker made, as he knocked violently at the door of their little house. 'Who's there?' cried the startled pair, together. 'Open--open the door!' replied a voice; 'it is your son Francillo.' 'Tell that to the marines!" replied the ancient son of Crispin;--'be off with you, scoundrels! there is nothing here worth stealing. Francillo is at this moment in the Indies, if he be not dead.' 'Your son is not now in the Indies,' replied the banker; 'he is returned from Peru; it is he who speaks to you: will you refuse to receive him in your arms?' 'Let us go down, Jacobo,' said the wife; 'I think it is indeed Francillo; I seem to recollect his voice.'