“Why?”

“Because a real Spaniard has never less than thirty-six words in his name.  If you had said that the steam engine was discovered by Don Pedrillo y Alvares y Toledo y Concha y Alonzo y Martinez y Xacarillo, or something of that sort, then I could believe the man to have been a genuine Spaniard, but not otherwise.”

“Spaniard or no Spaniard, the Spanish claim the discovery of steam through Don Blas; the Italians likewise claim the discovery for a mechanician, named Bianca; the Germans assign its discovery to Solomon de Causs; the French urge Denis Papin; and the English claim the invention for Roger Bacon.”

“You have forgotten the Swiss,” said Jack.

“The Swiss,” replied Fritz, with an air of dignity, “put forward no candidate:  steam and vapor and smoke are not much in their line.  They discovered something infinitely better—­the world is indebted to them for the invention of liberty.  I mean rational, intelligent, and true liberty—­not the savagery and mob tyranny of red republicanism.  The three discoverers of this noble invention were Melchthal, Furst, and William Tell.”

“You can have no idea,” continued Willis, “of the stir that steam was creating in Europe the last time I was there.  Of course there were plenty of incredulous people who said that it was no good; that it would never be of any use; and that if it were, it would not pay for the fuel consumed.  On the other hand, the enthusiasts held that, eventually, it would be used for everything; that in the air we should have steam balloons; on the sea, steam ships, steam guns, and perhaps steam men to work them; that on land there would be steam coaches driven by steam horses.  Journeys, say they, will be performed in no time, that is, as soon as you start for a place you arrive at it, just like an arrow, that no sooner leaves the bow than you see it stuck in the bull’s eye.”

“In that case,” observed Jack, “it will be necessary to do away with respiration, as well as horses.”

“A Londoner will be able to say to his wife, My dear, I am going to Birmingham to-day, but I will be back to dinner; and if a Parisian lights his cigar at Paris, it will burn till he arrives at Bordeaux.”

“Holloa, Willis, you have fairly converted Fritz and me into marines at last.”

“I am only speaking of what will be, not of what is—­that makes all the difference you know.  It is expected that there will be steam coaches on every turnpike-road; so that, instead of hiring a post-chaise, you will have to order a locomotive, and instead of postboys, you will to engage an engineer and stoker.”

“Then, instead of saying, Put the horses to,” remarked Jack, “we shall have to say, Get the steam up.”

“Exactly; and when you go on a pleasure excursion, you will be whisked from one point to another without having time to see whether you pass through a desert or a flower-garden.”

“What, then, is to become of adventures by the way, road-side inns, and banditti?”