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Updated: May 11, 2025
He was a young and fascinating guide, wearing a white satin tie, and on the third day he recited some verses of Stecchetti and was about to risk a declaration of worship in ornate prose, when he was suddenly rather badly scared by the lady's yellow eyes, and ran on nervously with a string of deceased popes and their dates. "Get me a card for the Jubilee," she said abruptly.
A simple and pathetic memoir which deserved to be as successful as that most felicitous of all such hoaxes, the life of the supposed Italian poet, Lorenzo Stecchetti introduces us to the unfortunate young Irishman, who was innocently engaged to a charming lady, when, on a certain August afternoon, he strayed by chance into the Fives Court, witnessed a "sparring-exhibition" by two celebrated pugilists, and was thenceforth a lost character.
Up there in the forest there are neither princes nor subjects; Governments nor Police; no Tax-gatherers, public meetings or strikes so that if Stecchetti were still living he might have been sent among the Sakais to find the ideal place of which he was always seeking the address. I was feeling rather worn out with the fatigues lately undergone so resolved to rest awhile on British territory.
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