PLEASANT MEDIATIONS ABOUT THE WONDERS OF TOBACCO; AND THREE PLEASANT
ANECDOTES BY AN ITALIAN BRIGAND.
A pull apiece at the brandy-flask restored strength and freshness to
the beleaguered travellers, who now, intrenched behind their
fortifications, awaited any attack which the Italians might choose to
make.
"The _I_talians," said the Senator, "are not a powerful race. By no
means. Feeble in body--no muscle--no brawn. Above all, no real
_pluck_. Buttons, is there a word in their language that expresses
the exact idee of _pluck_?"
"Or _game_?"
"No."
"Or even _spunk_?"
"No."
"I thought not," said the Senator, calmly. "They haven't the _idee_,
and can't have the word. Now it would require a rather considerable
crowd to demolish us at the present time."
"How long will we have to stay here?" asked Mr. Figgs abruptly.
"My dear Sir," said Buttons, with more sprightliness than he had
shown for many days, "be thankful you are here at all. We'll get off
at some time to-day. These fellows are watching us, and the moment
we start they'll fire on us. We would be a good mark for them in the
coach. No, we must wait a while."
Seated upon the turf, they gave themselves up to the pleasing
influence that flows from the pipe. Is there any thing equal to it?
How did the ancients contrive to while away the time without it? Had
they known its effects how they would have cherished it! We should
now be gazing on the ruins of venerable temples, reared by adoring
votaries to the goddess Tabaca. Boys at school would have construed
passages about her. Lempriere, Smith, Anthon, Drissler, and others
would have done honor to her. Classic mythology would have been full
of her presence. Olympian Jove would have been presented to us with
this divinity as his constant attendant, and a nimbus around his
immortal brows of her making. Bacchus would have had a rival, a
superior!
Poets would have told how TABACA went over the world girt in that but
set off the more her splendid radiance. We should have known how much
Bacchus had to do with [Transcriber's Note: Greek Transliteration] ta
bakcheia [/end Greek]; a chapter which will probably be a lost one in
the History of Civilization. But that he who smokes should drink beer
is quite indisputable. Whether the beer is to be X, XX, or XXX; or
whether the brewer's name should begin with an A, as in Alsopp, and
run through the whole alphabet, ending with V, as in Vassar, may be
fairly left to individual consideration.
What noble poetry, what spirited odes, what eloquent words, has not
the world lost by the ignorance of the Greek and Roman touching this
plant?
The above remarks were made by Dick on this occasion. But Buttons was
talking with the wounded Italians.
The Doctor had bound up their wounds and Buttons had favored them
with a drop from his flask. Dick cut up some tobacco and filled a
pipe for each. After all, the Italians were not fiends. They had
attacked them not from malice, but purely from professional motives.
Yet, had their enemies been Tedeschi, no amount of attention would
have overcome their sullen hate. But being Americans, gay, easy,
without malice, in fact kind and rather agreeable, they softened,
yielded altogether, and finally chatted familiarly with Buttons
and Dick. They were young, not worse in appearance than the majority
of men; perhaps not bad fellows in their social relations; at any
rate, rather inclined to be jolly in their present circumstances.
They were quite free in their expressions of admiration for the
bravery of their captors, and looked with awe upon the Doctor's
revolver, which was the first they had ever seen.
In fact, the younger prisoner became quite communicative. Thus:
"I was born in Velletri. My age is twenty-four years. I have
never shed blood except three times. The first time was in
Narni--odd place, Narni. My employer was a vine-dresser. The season
was dry; the brush caught fire, I don't know how, and in five
minutes a third of the vineyard was consumed to ashes. My employer
came cursing and raving at me, and swore he'd make me work for him
till I made good the loss. Enraged, I struck him. He seized an axe.
I drew my stiletto, and--of course I had to run away.
"The second time was in Naples. The affair was brought about by a
woman. Signore, women are at the bottom of most crimes that men
commit. I was in love with her. A friend of mine fell in love with
her too. I informed him that if he interfered with me I would kill
him. I told her that if she encouraged him I would kill him and her
too. I suppose she was piqued. Women will get piqued sometimes. At
any rate she gave him marked encouragement. I scolded and threatened.
No use. She told me she was tired of me; that I was too tyrannical.
In fact, she dared to turn me off and take the other fellow. Maffeo
was a good fellow. I was sorry for him, but I had to keep my word.
"The third time was only a month ago. I robbed a Frenchman, out of
pure patriotism--the French, you know, are our oppressors--and kept
what I found about him to reward me for my gallant act. The
Government, however, did not look upon it in a proper light. They
sent out a detachment to arrest me. I was caught, and by good
fortune brought to an inn. At night I was bound tightly and shut
up in the same room with the soldiers. The innkeeper's daughter, a
friend of mine, came in for something, and by mere chance dropped
a knife behind me. I got it, cut my cords, and when they were all
asleep I departed. Before going I left the knife behind; and where
now, Signore, do you think I left it?"
"I have no idea."
"You would never guess. You never would have thought of it yourself."
"Where did you leave it?"
"In the heart of the Captain."