The Dodge Club Part 32

"What upon airth has possessed b.u.t.tons now?" asked the Senator.

"It must be the Spanish girl," said d.i.c.k.

"Again? Hasn't his mad chase at sea given him a lesson? Spanish girl! What is he after? If he wants a girl, why can't he wait and pick out a regular thorough-bred out and outer of Yankee stock?

These Spaniards are not the right sort."

In an incredible short s.p.a.ce of time the figure of b.u.t.tons was seen dashing down the piazza, in the direction which the carriage had taken. But the carriage was far ahead, and even as he left the church it had already crossed the Ponte di S. Angelo. The others then descended. b.u.t.tons was not seen till the end of the day.

He then made his appearance with a dejected air.

"What luck?" asked d.i.c.k, as he came in.

"None at all," said b.u.t.tons, gloomily.

"Wrong ones again?"

"No, indeed. I'm not mistaken this time. But I couldn't catch them.

They got out of sight, and kept out too. I've been to every hotel in the place, but couldn't find them. It's too bad."

"b.u.t.tons," said the Senator, gravely, "I'm sorry to see a young man like you so infatuated. Beware--b.u.t.tons--beware of wimmin! Take the advice of an older and more experienced man. Beware of wimmin.

Whenever you see one coming--dodge! It's your only hope. If it hadn't been for wimmin"--and the Senator seemed to speak half to himself, while his face a.s.sumed a pensive air--"if it hadn't been for wimmin, I'd been haranguing the Legislatoor now, instead of wearying my bones in this benighted and enslaved country."

CHAPTER XX.

THE GLORY, GRANDEUR, BEAUTY, AND INFINITE VARIETY OF THE PINCIAN HILL; NARRATED AND DETAILED NOT COLUMNARILY BUT EXHAUSTIVELY, AND AFTER THE MANNER OF RABELAIS.

Oh, the Pincian Hill!--Does the memory of that place affect all alike? Whether it does or not matters little to the chronicler of this veracious history. To him it is the crown and glory of modern Rome; the centre around which all Rome cl.u.s.ters. Delightful walks!

Views without a parallel! Place on earth to which no place else can hold a candle!

Pooh--what's the use of talking? Contemplate, O Reader, from the Pincian Hill the following:

The Tiber, The Campagna, The Aqueducts, Trajan's Column, Antonine's Pillar, The Piazza del Popolo, The Torre del Capitoglio, The h.o.a.r Capitoline, The Palatine, The Quirinal, The Viminal, The Esquiline, The Caelian, The Aventine, The Vatican, The Janiculum, St. Peter's, The Lateran, The Stands for Roast Chestnuts, The New York _Times_, the Hurdy-gurdys, The London _Times_, The Raree-shows, The Obelisk of Mosaic Pharaoh, The Wine-carts, Harper's Weekly, Roman Beggars, Cardinals, Monks, Artists, Nuns, The New York _Tribune_, French soldiers, Swiss Guards, Dutchmen, Mosaic-workers, Plane-trees, Cypress-trees, Irishmen, Propaganda Students, Goats, Fleas, Men from Bosting, Patent Medicines, Swells Lager, Meerschaum-pipes, The New York _Herald_, Crosses, Rustic Seats, Dark-eyed Maids, Babel, Terrapins, Marble Pavements, Spiders, Dreamy Haze, Jews, Cossacks, Hens, All the Past, Rags, The original Barrel-organ, The original Organ-grinder, Bourbon Whisky, Civita Vecchia Olives, Hadrian's Mausoleum, _Harper's Magazine_, The Laurel Shade, Murray's Hand-book, Cicerones, Englishmen, Dogcarts, Youth, Hope, Beauty, Conversation Kenge, Bluebottle Flies, Gnats, _Galignani_, Statues, Peasants, c.o.c.kneys, Gas-lamps, Dundreary, Michiganders, Paper-collars, Pavilions, Mosaic Brooches, Little Dogs, Small Boys, Lizards, Snakes, Golden Sunsets, Turks, Purple Hills, Placards, Shin-plasters, Monkeys, Old Boots, Coffee-roasters, Pale Ale, The Dust of Ages, The Ghost of Rome, Ice Cream, Memories, Soda-Water, Harper's Guide-Book.

CHAPTER XXI.

HARMONY ON THE PINCIAN HILL.--MUSIC HATH CHARMS.--AMERICAN MELODIES.

--THE GLORY, THE POWER, AND THE BEAUTY OF YANKEE DOODLE, AND THE MERCENARY SOUL OF AN ITALIAN ORGAN-GRINDER.

The Senator loved the Pincian Hill, for there he saw what he loved best; more than ruins, more than churches, more than pictures and statues, more than music. He saw man and human nature.

He had a smile for all; of superiority for the bloated aristocrat; of friendliness for the humble, yet perchance worthy mendicant. He longed every day more and more to be able to talk the language of the people.

On one occasion the Club was walking on the Pincian Hill, when suddenly they were arrested by familiar sounds which came from some place not very far away. It was a barrel-organ; a soft and musical organ; but it was playing "Sweet Home."

"A Yankee tune," said the Senator. "Let us go and patronize domestic manufacture. That is my idee of political economy."

Reaching the spot they saw a pale, intellectual-looking Italian working away at his instrument.

"It's not bad, though that there may not be the highest kind of musical instrument."

"No," said b.u.t.tons; "but I wonder that you, an elder of a church, can stand here and listen to it."

"Why, what has the church to do with a barrel-organ?"

"Don't you believe the Bible?"

"Of course," said the Senator, looking mystified.

"Don't you know what it says on the subject?"

"What the Bible says? Why no, of course not. It says nothing."

"I beg your pardon. It says, 'The sound of the grinding is low.' See Ecclesiastes, twelfth, fourth."

The Senator looked mystified, but said nothing. But suddenly the organ-grinder struck up another tune.

"Well, I do declare," cried the Senator, delighted, "if it isn't another domestic melody!"

It was "Independence Day."

"Why, it warms my heart," he said, as a flush spread over his fine countenance.

The organ-grinder received any quant.i.ty of _baiocchi_, which so encouraged him that he tried another--"Old Virginny."

"That's better yet," said the Senator. "But how on airth did this man manage to get hold of these tunes?"

Then came others. They were all American: "Old Folks at Home,"

"Nelly Ely," "Suwannee Ribber," "Jordan," "Dan Tucker," "Jim Crow."

The Senator was certainly most demonstrative, but all the others were equally affected.

Those native airs; the dashing, the reckless, the roaringly-humorous, the obstreperously jolly--they show one part of the many-sided American character.

Not yet has justice been done to the n.i.g.g.e.r song. It is not a n.i.g.g.e.r song. It is an American melody. Leaving out those which have been stolen from Italian Operas, how many there are which are truly American in their extravagance, their broad humor, their glorious and uproarious jollity! The words are trash. The melodies are every thing.

These melodies touched the hearts of the listeners. American life rose before them as they listened.--American life--free, boundless, exuberant, broadly-developing, self-a.s.serting, gaining its characteristics from the boundless extent of its home--a continental life of limitless variety. As mournful as the Scotch; as reckless as the Irish; as solemnly patriotic as the English.

"Listen!" cried the Senator, in wild excitement.