“Un’ Americano!” repeated Andrea Barrofaldi; “Americano!” exclaimed Vito Viti; “Americano!” said each of the marines in succession, every eye turning with lively curiosity toward the subject of the discourse, who bore it all with appropriate steadiness and dignity.  The reader is not to be surprised that an American was then regarded with curiosity, in a country like Italy; for, two years later, when an American ship of war anchored suddenly before the town of Constantinople, and announced her nation, the authorities of the Sublime Porte were ignorant that such a country existed.  It is true, Leghorn was beginning to be much frequented by American ships, in the year 1799; but even with these evidences before their eyes, the people of the very ports into which these traders entered were accustomed to consider their crews a species of Englishmen, who managed to sail the vessels for the negroes at home[3].  In a word, two centuries and a half of national existence, and more than half a century of national independence, have not yet sufficed to teach all the inhabitants of the old world, that the great modern Republic is peopled by men of a European origin, and possessing white skins.  Even of those who are aware of the fact, the larger proportion, perhaps, have obtained their information through works of a light character, similar to this of our own, rather than by the more legitimate course of regular study and a knowledge of history.

[3] As recently as 1828, the author of this book was at Leghorn.  The Delaware, so, had just left there; and speaking of her appearance to a native of the place, who supposed the writer to be an Englishman, the latter observed:  “Of course, her people were all blacks.”  “I thought so, too, signore, until I went on board the ship,” was the answer; “but they are as white as you and I are.”

“Si” repeated Ithuel, with emphasis, as soon as he heard his nationality thus alluded to, and found all eyes on himself—­“Si, oon Americano—­I’m not ashamed of my country; and if you’re any way partic’lar in such matters, I come from New Hampshire—­or, what we call the Granite state.  Tell ’em this, Philip-o, and let me know their idees, in answer.”

Filippo translated this speech as well as he could, as he did the reply; and it may as well be stated here, once for all, that in the dialogue which succeeded, the instrumentality of this interpreter was necessary that the parties might understand each other.  The reader will, therefore, give Filippo credit for this arrangement, although we shall furnish the different speeches very much as if the parties fully comprehended what was said.

“Uno stato di granito!” repeated the vice-governatore, looking at the podesta with some doubt in the expression of his countenance—­“it must be a painful existence which these poor people endure, to toil for their food in such a region.  Ask him, good Filippo, if they have any wine in his part of the world.”