"Whatta da namea dissa cit?" asked the Unwiseman in his best Italian as
the party arrived at Genoa, whence they were to set sail for home the
next day.
"This is Genoa," said Mollie.
"What's it good for?" demanded the old gentleman, gazing around him in a
highly critical fashion.
"It's where Christopher Columbus was born," said Mollie. "Didn't you
know that?"
"You don't mean the gentleman who discovered the United States, do you?"
asked the Unwiseman, his face brightening with interest.
"The very same," said Mollie. "He was born right here in this town."
"Humph!" ejaculated the Unwiseman. "Queer place for a fellow like that
to be born in. You'd think a man who was going to discover America would
have been born a little nearer the United States than this. Up in
Canada for instance, or down around Cuba, so's he wouldn't have so far
to travel."
"Canada and Cuba weren't discovered either at that time," explained
Mollie, smiling broadly at the Unwiseman's ignorance.
"Really?" said the Unwiseman. "Well that accounts for it. I always
wondered why the United States wasn't discovered by somebody nearer
home, like a Canadian or a Cuban, or some fellow down around where the
Panama hats come from, but of course if there wasn't any Canadians or
Cubans or Panama hatters around to do it, it's as clear as pie." The old
gentleman paused a moment, and then he went on: "So this is the place
that would have been our native land if Columbus hadn't gone to sea, is
it? I think I'll take home a bottle of it to keep on the mantel-piece
alongside of my bottle of United States and label 'em' My Native Land,
Before and After.'"
"That's a very good idea," said Mollie. "Then you'll have a complete
set."
"I wonder," said the Unwiseman, rubbing his forehead reflectively, "I
wonder if he's alive yet."
"What, Christopher Columbus?" laughed Mollie.
"Yes," said the Unwiseman. "I haven't seen much in the papers about him
lately, but that don't prove he's dead."
"Why he discovered America in 1492," said Mollie.
"Well--let's see--how long ago was that? More'n forty years, wasn't it?"
said the Unwiseman.
"I guess it was more than forty years ago," giggled Mollie.
"Well--say fifty then," said the Unwiseman. "I'm pretty nearly that old
myself. I was born in 1839, or 1843, or some such year, and as I
remember it we'd been discovered then--but that wouldn't make him so
awfully old you know. A man can be eighty and still live. Look at old
Methoosalum--he was nine hundred."
"Oh well," said Mollie, "there isn't any use of talking about it.
Columbus has been dead a long time----"
"All I can say is that I'm very sorry," interrupted the Unwiseman, with
a sad little shake of his head. "I should very much like to have gone
over and called on him just to thank him for dishcovering the United
States. Just think, Mollie, of what would have happened if he hadn't!
You and I and old Fizzledinkie here would have had to be Eye-talians, or
Switzers, and live over here all the time if it hadn't been for him, and
our own beautiful native land would have been left way across the sea
all alone by itself and we'd never have known anything about it."
"We certainly ought to be very much obliged to Mr. Columbus for all he
did for us," said Mollie.
"I-guess-somebuddyelse-wudda-donit," whistled Whistlebinkie. "They
cuddn'-ta-helptit-with-all-these-socean steamers-going-over-there
every-day."
"That's true enough," said the Unwiseman, "but we ought to be thankful
to Columbus just the same. Other people _might_ have done it, but the
fact remains that he _did_ do it, so I'm much obliged to him. I'd sort
of like to do something to show my gratitude."
"Better write to his family," grinned Whistlebinkie.
"For a rubber doll with a squeak instead of brain in his head that's a
first rate idea, Fizzledinkie," said the old gentleman. "I'll do it."
And so he did. The evening mail from the Unwiseman's hotel carried with
it a souvenir postal card addressed to Christopher Columbus, Jr., upon
which the sender had written as follows:
GENOA, Aug. 23, 19--.