e head of Arethusa is a perfect gem in silver, (the
_hair_ especially, treated in a way that we have never seen elsewhere;)
on the other, is a _quadriga_. One of these ecclesiastics dealt like any
other dealer. The other consulted the dignity of the church, and
employed a lay brother to impose upon strangers who buy in haste to
repent at leisure; for even among the picked, select, and _winnowed_
coins of the man who knows what he is about, there are always false
ones. Having shown that we are _au fait_ both as to the _thing_ and the
market-price--that we had read Myounet, and were acquainted with the
sharp eyes of _de Dominicis_ at Rome, we pass immediately for an English
_dealer_; and suspicion becomes conviction, when, taking up a gold
Philip, we remark that "all trades must live," and that our price must
depend upon his "_quanto per il Filippo_?" "You will not scruple,
I suppose, to pay forty-seven dollars!" "Thirty-seven is
plenty."--"_Pocket Philip._" "Sir," said we to our employe as we went
home, "you are a _rogue_ to have brought us to that cheating priest."
"Not so, sir," said the Siculo-Inglese Jack Robertson, "they tell here
priest _not_ cheat, always deal _square_--have that character indeed,
sir;" and he proceeded to conduct us to another priest-collector, who,
in this instance, had gone out to dine with a friend. Jack, however,
said he would soon bring him back, dined or undined; and in ten minutes
he returned in high spirits at his success. "Always trust _me_, sir! Me
no fool, sir! As soon as I see him, sir, I say, you got _coins?_ He say
'_yes_.' Den you show what you got _directly_ to English gentlemen. 'No,
I won't,' he tell me--'I take my dinner here wid my friends, and after
dat I come see English gentlemen.'" Rather a cool thing we thought for a
_dealer_ to keep his customers waiting; but, whenever one wants any
thing, one can always afford to wait a little, and Jack informed us that
he had learned from the padre's servant that his master always dines in
a quarter of an hour. The quarter of an hour up, we send again, but our
messenger comes back empty-handed. "Well, where is your friend?" "He no
friend of mine, sir! He very angry! Not my fault, sir," "Angry? what is
he angry about?" "Because I say to him only this, sir--'_Other_ priest
ask gentleman _too much_--hope you not _very dear too_, sir;' to which
he say, '_You damn fool_, I don't sell coins!' _Den_ I beg his pardon,
and he ask me sharply, '_Wh