Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-09-07
BEGGAR'S FOUNTAIN.
A Beautiful Legend Current ip
 Northern Italy.
Inc Story of . Rich Mans Meanness ana His Terrible Punishnent-The Curse of Thirst-How the Spell Was
 Broken at Last.

Broken at Last.
 Inere Is In Italy fountain over which is the statue of a beggar drinking at a spring. It is called the 'Beggar's Fountain" and thls is it's story: Once upon a time there lived, so says the legend, very proud and naughty man, who hated the poor and set hlmselt above all the world who were not as wealthy and well dressed as himself, and his want of charity was so great that 1t had become proverbial, and beggar would no more have thought of asking bread at his gate than of asking him for all his fortune
 However, thero was a spring on his land, sweet spring of cold water, and as it was the only one for miles many . wayfarer paused to drink of it, butnever was permit ted to do so A servant, well armed, was kept upon the watch to drive such persons away.
 Now, there never had been known before any one so avaricious as to refuse q cup of cold water to his fcllow-man, and the angels, talking amongst each other, could not believe it; and ono of them said to the rest:
 "1t is impossible for any but Satan him. sell. will go to earth and prove that it is not true"
 And so this fair and holy angel disguised AASA SSAA oo d DCSSdE-WOU1aIl, covered ncc golden hair with a black hood, and chose the moment when the master of the house was himself standing near the spring to come slowly up the road, walking over the stones with bare feet, and to pause beside the fountain and humbly ask for draught of it's sweet water.
 Instantly the servant who guarded the spot interposed the pike he carried, but the angel, desiring to take news of good deed, not of an evil one, back to heaven turned to the master himself.
 "Sir," she said, II am, as you see, wan- derer from afar. See how poor my garments are, how stained with travel It is not sure- ly at your bidding that your servant forbids me to drink. And even if 1t is, pray you bid him let me alone, for am very thirsty"
 The rich man looked at her with scornful eyes and laughed contemptuously.
 "This is not a public fountain," he said. You will find one in the next village"
 "The way is long," pleaded the angel, "and am woman, and but weak"
 "Drive her away" said the rich man, and as he spoke the beggar turned; but on the instant her black hood dropped from her head and revealed floods of ripping golden hair-her unseemly rags fell to the ground and the shining robes that angels wear shone in their place. For a moment she lowered, poised on purple wings, with her hands folded on her bosom and an ineffable sweetness of sorrow in her eyes. Then, with gush of music and flood of perfume, she vanished.
 The servant fell to the earth like one dead. The rich man trembled and cried out, for he knew that he had forbidden a cup of cold water to an angel, and horror possessed his soul.
 Almost instantly, also, a terrible thirst fell upon him which nothing could assuage. In vain he drank wines. sherbets, draughts of all pleasing kinds. Nothing could slake his thirst. The sweet water of the spring was salter to him than the sea. He who never in his life had known an ungratitied desire, now experienced the torture of an ever-unsatisfied longing; but through this misery he began to understand what he had done. He repented his cruelty to the poor. Aims were given daily at his gate Charity was the business of his life. The fountain was no longer guarded, and near it hung ever a cup ready for any one who chose to use it. But the curse-n curse it were-was never lifted.
 The rich man-young when the angel visited him-grew middle-aged, elderly, old, still tortured by this awful thirst, despite his prayers and repentance. He had given away his substance; he had him. self broken bread for the most miserable
 
 And at eighty years of age, bowed with infirmity and weary of his life, he sat one day beside the fountain weeping. And lol along the road he saw approaching a beggar-woman, hooded in black, wearing sordid rags, and walking over the stones with her bare feet. Slowly she came on and paused beside the fountain.
 May drink2' she asked.
 '"There are none to forbid thee," said the old man, trembling. 'Drink poor woman. time has passed. Drink and pray for one athirst. Here is the cup"
 The woman bent over the fountain and filed the cup; but instead of putting it to her own lips she presented it to those of tho old man.
 "Drink, then," she cried, 'and thirst no more!"
 The old man took the cup and emptied it. Oh, blessed draughtl With it the torture of years departed, and as he drank he praised Heaven. And lifting up his eyes once moro he saw the beggar's hood dropto the ground and her rags fall to pieces. For moment she stood revealed in all her beauty of snowy skin and golden hair and silvery raiment; and she stretched her hand toward him, as in blessing, and then, rising on purple pinions, vanished in the skies. A strain of music fingered, perfume filled the air, and those who came there soon after found the old man praying beside the spring.
 Before he died he built the fountain from which the spring still gushes, and it, with the splendid mansion beyond 1t, now q hospital, has been given to the poor forever.