‘Some mistuanza,[2] because I was starving,’ replied the country bumpkin.
That the poor fellow, who really looked as if he might have been starving, should have stolen some herbs did not seem such a very grave offence; so with due advice to keep his hands from picking and stealing, and a psalm to say for his penance, the priest sent him to communion.
Then came the second, and there was the same dialogue. Then the third and the fourth, till all the seven had been up.
At last the priest began to think it was a very odd circumstance that such a number of full-grown men should all of a sudden have taken into their heads to go stealing salad herbs; and when the seventh had had his say he rejoined,—
‘But what do you mean by mistuanza?’
‘Oh, any mixture of things,’ replied the countryman.
‘Nay; that’s not the way we use the word,’ responded the priest; ‘so tell me what “things” you mean.’
‘Oh, some cow, some pig, and some fowl.’[3]
‘You men of the mistuanza!’ shouted the priest in righteous indignation, starting out of the confessional; ‘Come back! come back! you can’t go to communion like that.’
The seven clodhoppers, finding themselves discovered, began to fear the rigour of justice, and decamped as fast as they could.