"Well—let's see—how long ago was that? More'n forty years, wasn't it?" said the Unwiseman.
"I guess it was more than forty years ago," giggled Mollie.
"Well—say fifty then," said the Unwiseman. "I'm pretty nearly that old myself. I was born in 1839, or 1843, or some such year, and as I remember it we'd been discovered then—but that wouldn't make him so awfully old you know. A man can be eighty and still live. Look at old Methoosalum—he was nine hundred."
"Oh well," said Mollie, "there isn't any use of talking about it. Columbus has been dead a long time——"
"All I can say is that I'm very sorry," interrupted the Unwiseman, with a sad little shake of his head. "I should very much like to have gone over and called on him just to thank him for dishcovering the United States. Just think, Mollie, of what would have happened if he hadn't! You and I and old Fizzledinkie here would have had to be Eye-talians, or Switzers, and live over here all the time if it hadn't been for him, and our own beautiful native land would have been left way across the sea all alone by itself and we'd never have known anything about it."
"We certainly ought to be very much obliged to Mr. Columbus for all he did for us," said Mollie.
"I-guess-somebuddyelse-wudda-donit," whistled Whistlebinkie. "They cuddn'-ta-helptit-with-all-these-socean steamers-going-over-there every-day."
"That's true enough," said the Unwiseman, "but we ought to be thankful to Columbus just the same. Other people might have done it, but the fact remains that he did do it, so I'm much obliged to him. I'd sort of like to do something to show my gratitude."
"Better write to his family," grinned Whistlebinkie.