"He does that twenty times a day," said the landlord.
"Who is he?" asked one of the travelers, "and where does he come from?"
"He has been here only a few days, and I know nothing about him. His first question was, 'Have you seen my father Jacob?'"
"Have you tried to find out about him?" asked Mr. Tompkins.
"Yes, but to no purpose," answered Uncle Jerry. "He came one morning and said he was fleeing from Potiphar's wrath. After inquiring for his father, he remained silent for some time. I tried to find where he came from, but no one knows and he can not tell. I should judge by the clothes he wore that he was from the South, and, from the worn condition of his shoes, that he came a great way. He is of some respectable family, for he has been well educated, and I fancy it's too much book learning that has turned the boy's head. He talks of Plato and Socrates and Aristotle, and all the ancient philosophers, and his familiarity with historical events shows him to have been a student; but he always imagines that he is Joseph."
"Where does he live?" asked Mr. Tompkins.
"Oh, he stays here at the inn, and shows no disposition to leave. He makes himself useful by helping the stable-boy and carries in fuel, imagining himself a servant of the high priest."
"Has he lucid intervals?" asked Mr. Tompkins.
"No, not what could be called lucid intervals. Once he said to a girl in the kitchen that it was books that made his head dizzy, and said something of a home a great ways off, from which he had fled to escape great violence. They hoped then to clear up the mystery, but the next moment his mind wandered again and he was Joseph sold into Egypt, bewailing his father Jacob and his brother Benjamin."
"What is his name?" asked Mr. Tompkins.