DURING the minority of King Gun, Johannes Talpa, in the monastery¹ of Beargarden, where at the age of fourteen he had made his profession and from which he never departed for a single day throughout his life, composed his celebrated² Latin chronicle in twelve books called “De Gestis Peguinorum.” The monastery of Beargarden lifts its high walls on the summit of an inaccessible³ peak. One sees around it only the blue tops of mountains, divided by the clouds.

When he began to write his “Gesta Peguinorum,” Johannes Talpa was already old. The good monk⁴ has taken care to tell us this in his book: “My head has long since lost,” he says, “its adornment⁵ of fair hair, and my scalp resembles those convex mirrors of metal which the Penguin⁶ ladies consult with so much care and zeal⁷. My stature⁸, naturally small, has with years become diminished and bent⁹. My white beard gives warmth to my breast.”

With a charming simplicity¹⁰, Talpa informs us of certain circumstances in his life and some features in his character. “Descended,” he tells us, “from a noble family, and destined¹¹ from childhood for the ecclesiastical state, I was taught grammer and music. I learned to read under the guidance of a master who was called Amicus, and who would have been better named Inimicus. As I did not easily

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