Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad
It
was their custom to greet arriving steamers in this way, for by this
means they gained a livelihood. Nothing short of absolute destruction
seemed able to interfere with their established occupations.
A steam tender also came alongside, and after a cordial farewell to the
ship's officers and their travelling acquaintances, Uncle John placed
his nieces and their baggage aboard the tender, which shortly deposited
them safely upon the dock.
Perhaps a lot of passengers more dismal looking never before landed on
the beautiful shores of Naples--beautiful no longer, but presenting an
appearance gray and grewsome. Ashes were ankle deep in the streets--a
fine, flour-like dust that clung to your clothing, filled your eyes and
lungs and seemed to penetrate everywhere. The foliage of the trees and
shrubbery drooped under its load and had turned from green to the
all-pervading gray. The grass was covered; the cornices and balconies of
the houses were banked with ashes.
"Bless me!" said Uncle John. "It's as bad as Pompey, or whatever that
city was called that was buried in the Bible days."
"Oh, not quite, Uncle," answered Patsy, in her cheery voice; "but it may
be, before Vesuvius is satisfied."
"It is certainly bad enough," observed Louise, pouting as she marked the
destruction of her pretty cloak by the grimy deposit that was fast
changing its color and texture.
"Well, let us get under shelter as soon as possible," said Uncle John.
The outlines of a carriage were visible a short distance away. He walked
up to the driver and said:
"We want to go to a hotel."
The man paid no attention.
"Ask him how much he charges, Uncle. You know you mustn't take a cab in
Naples without bargaining."
"Why not?"
"The driver will swindle you."
"I'll risk that," he answered. "Just now we're lucky if we get a
carriage at all." He reached up and prodded the jehu in the ribs with
his cane. "How much to the Hotel Vesuvius?" he demanded, loudly.
The man woke up and flourished his whip, at the same time bursting into
a flood of Italian.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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