Starbottle (interrupting, aside to ALEXANDER MORTON). Ahem! ahem! (Aloud to DON JOSE.) My friend's manner, sir, reminds me of--er--er--Ram Bootgum Sing, first secretary of Turkish legation at Washington in '45; most remarkable man--demn me--most remarkable--and warm personal friend. Challenged Tod Robinson for putting him next to Hebrew banker at dinner, with remark--demn me--that they were both believers in the profit! he, he! Amusing, perhaps; irreverent, certainly. Fought with cimeters. Second pass, Ram divided Tod in two pieces--fact, sir--just here (pointing) in--er--er--regions of moral emotions. Upper half called to me,--said to me warningly--last words--never forget it,--"Star,"--always called me Star,--"Respect man's religious convictions." Legs dead; emotion confined to upper part of body--pathetic picture. Ged, sir, something to be remembered! Don Jose (with grave Spanish courtesy). You are welcome, gentlemen, to the rancho of the Blessed Fisherman. Your letters, with their honorable report, are here. Believe me, senores, in your modesty you have forgotten to mention your strongest claim to the hospitality of my house,--the royal right of strangers. Morton. Angels before this have been entertained as strangers, says the Good Book; and that, I take it, is your authority for this ceremoniousness which else were but lip-service and Papist airs. But I am here in the performance of a duty, Mr. Castro,--the duty of a Christian father. I am seeking a prodigal son. I am seeking him in his wine-husks and among his harl--