The next day, as I was again passing through the corridor, I observed the old man in the same place, and saluted him. He returned my salutation with much courtesy, and closing the book, placed it upon his knee, as if willing to enter into conversation. After exchanging a word or two, I took up the book for the purpose of inspecting it. “You will hardly derive much instruction from that book, _Don Jorge_,” said the old man; “you cannot understand it, for it is not written in English.” “Nor in Spanish,” I replied. “But with respect to understanding the book, I cannot see what difficulty there can be in a thing so simple; it is only the Roman breviary written in the Latin tongue.” “Do the English understand Latin?” exclaimed he. “_Vaya_! Who would have thought that it was possible for Lutherans to understand the language of the church? _Vaya_! the longer one lives the more one learns.” “How old may your reverence be?” I inquired. “I am eighty years, _Don Jorge_; eighty years, and somewhat more.” Such was the first conversation which passed between his reverence and myself. He soon conceived no inconsiderable liking for me, and favoured me with no little of his company. Unlike our friend the landlord, I found him by no means inclined to talk politics, which the more surprised me, knowing, as I did, the decided and hazardous part which he had taken on the late Carlist irruption into the neighbourhood. He took, however, great delight in discoursing on ecclesiastical subjects and the writings of the fathers. “I have got a small library at home, _Don Jorge_, which consists of all the volumes of the fathers which I have been able to pick up, and I find the perusal of them a source of great amusement and comfort. Should these dark days pass by, _Don Jorge_, and you should be in these parts, I hope you will look in upon me, and I will show you my little library of the fathers, and likewise my dovecote, where I rear numerous broods of pigeons, which are also a source of much solace, and at the same time of profit.” “I suppose by your dovecote,” said I, “you mean your parish, and by rearing broods of pigeons, you allude to the care you take of the souls of your people, instilling therein the fear of God and obedience to his revealed law, which occupation must of course afford you much solace and spiritual profit.”