The Winslow mail., 1898-10-08

The siIkWorms don't hatch well. nor
spin when they GO; the vines are dis
cased, the grain is thin, the olives are
wormy, there is no rain, the taxes are
heavy"
Enough; we will let Master Pietro
sleep on. But have not come here to
string beads and to have the crowd
cape at me. Tell NE whom to raise"
"Ghita-bring back Ghita, my
Ghita!" cried a POOR old woman, weep
ing like Mary Magdalen.
NO, no, doctor, do not wake her"
interrupted girl. "Oh, no, pretty
creature, it's well she died. Before she
left us she told me all. We dressed her
in white and pat wreath on her hair
till she looked Ike bride. Leave her
in holy ground. The man she loved
deserted her for some one else.'
Poor Ghita! But you must admit
you are making it hard for me. To
put an end to it all, I will bring back
Gringaietto, who choked to death eat
ing goldfish, not a month ago.
You must not, you must mott" cried
Lima faparero, wringing her hands.
HE SOLD me that vineyard of his on
the instaliment plan. For ten, long
years I've been paying in hard coin TAR
more than its value, and now would
you have me begin all over again? It's
not lair, signor dottore!"
what state of thingsi But we will
let that go. L will now propose one
who left TO mourn him neither brother
eli
left only blessed memory, an example
of ali the virtues, and his little savings
to the hospital-I mean your good
priest, who loved you so well, whom
you regretted SO deeply, who made,
YOU remember, such a dreadful Jour
ney to the other world, seeking, poor
pilgrim, his Cucuguanese in every cor
ner, even in yawning hell itself, not
missing a single one. Shall / restore
him to you?''
mo, mol" cried various devout mem
bers of the flock. ''No, no.'' added
Lena Russolina, the mother of the con-
gregation. HE was old, poor man,
and deaf as post, SO much so that at
confession he always absolved us of
him in glory, especially since we now
have a young and hearty curate. He
is as good as saint, he sings like an
organ, he breaches like a seraph, and
he swims with the current
whats 10 be done? I'll try some
one else. see over there a little white
wooden cross; the harebells seem try
ho oil ;e II,
on level with it. You can read that
that narrow grave holds a ten-months-
old baby. True, it seems half a pity
to bring the tender soul back to this
world to bear--what you have all been
bearing. Still, if you wish him raised,
say but the word, and Itwill display my
power"
"Signor dottore," whispered
wrinkled crone, that little one is ours,
alas! 1 am the grandmother. My
daughter had not yet weaned him: he
was just getting his teeth, when sud-
denly he died. But God took him from
u.s. Gods will be done! Now there is
another babe at the breast. God
knows what He is doing. What He
taxes Will one uduO I1E GIVES pdCh
with the other. My daughter couldn't
suckle both, and we are too poor to
put him out to nurse
At this the doctor burst out:
Enough for to-day, if not too much,
indeed! Since you won't have the
miracle now, 1 will perform it on an
other occasion. Only / beg of you to
agree beforehand on the person to be
brought to life" And he strobe away.
From that memorable Sunday our
doctor has done wonders in Cucu-
guano It is true he does not raise the
dead, but he saves the lives of the sick.
The Cucuguanese, now fully trusting
him, say: "If he did not fulfill his
promise, to tell the truth, it was not
his fault-it was ours, for we wished
to leave our dead underground" >
Translated for the Argonaut from the
Italian of D. Ciampali.