“Yes, sir,” said he, one day, as with an amount of irritation he acknowledged the fatal fascination of that land of dreamy inactivity, “it's _my_ notion that Italy is a pasture where no beast ought to be turned out that's ever to do any work again. It ain't merely that one does nothing when he 's there, but he ain't fit for anything when he leaves it. I know what I 'd have thought of any man that would have said to me, 'Shaver Quackinboss, you 'll come out of them diggin's lazy and indolent. You 'll think more of your ease than you ought, and you 'll be more grateful for being jest left alone to follow your own fancies than for the best notion of speculation that ever was hit upon.' And that's exactly what I 've come to! I don't want a fellow to tell me where I can make thirty or forty thousand dollars; I 've lost all that spring in me that used to make me rise early and toil late. What I call happiness now is to sit and smoke with one of your sort of an afternoon, and listen to stories of chaps that lived long ago, and worked their way on in a world a precious sight harder to bully than our own. Well now, sir, I say, that ain't right, and it ain't nat'ral, and, what's more, I ain't a- goin' to bear it. I mean to be stirrin' and active again, and you 'll see it.” It was a few days after he had made this resolve that he said to Layton,-- “Only think who I saw at the bar this morning. That fellow we came over with in the passage out; he was a-liquoring down there and treating all the company. He comes up to me, straight on end, and says,-- “'Well, old 'oss, and how do _you_ get on?' “'Bobbish-like,' says I, for I was minded to be good-humored with him, and see what I could get out of him about hisself. “'Where's the young 'un I saw with you aboard?' says he. “'Well,' said I, 'he ain't very far off, when he's wanted.' “'That's what he ain't,' said he; 'he ain't wanted nowhere.' When he said this I saw he was very 'tight,' as we call it,--far gone in liquor, I mean. “'Have you found out that same water-power you were arter?' said he. “'No,' said I. 'It's down West a man must go who has n't a bag full of dollars. Everything up hereabouts is bought up at ten times its worth.' “'Well, look sharp after the young 'un,' said he, laughing; 'that's _my_ advice to you. Though you're Yankee, he 'll be too much for you in the end.' He said this, drinking away all the time, and getting thicker in his speech at every word. “'I ain't a man to neglect a warnin',' says I, in a sort of whisper, 'and if _you_ mean friendly by me, speak out.' “'And ain't that speaking out,' says he, boldly, 'when I say to a fellow I scarcely know by sight, “Mind your eye; look out for squalls!” I wonder what more he wants? Does he expect me to lend him money?' said he, with an insolent laugh.