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.
