The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1899-05-25
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= NICCOLO CENNINI. 4 4F4ER +

When Margaret informed me that
she intended to travel third class from
Naples to Massina for the purpose OF
studying human nature and gaining in
sight into the manners and customs of
the Italian peasantry, | agreed at once,
and remarked that L admired her spirit.
A disagreeable person might have as
sociated this resolution with recent
purchase of mOsaics and Roman pearls,
but as no good ever results from being
smart at friends expense, l made a
point of taking Margaret's spasmodic
economies seriously. and in this in
stance resigned myself to the discom-
fort with what good grace l might.
We booked third class, therefore.
and Margaret divided responsibilities
by leaving me to wrestle with the bag
gage, while she strOlled down the plat
form, peering into one carriage after
another, with the object of choosing
the most interesting fellow passengers,
and reached the very end of the train
before she beckOned to me with an air
of triumph.
"Here we are, the very thing. Two
window seats and only one companions;
such nice, clean man."
l toiled up, laden with possessions,
and Immediately upon my appearance
''the nice, clean man" stood up to take
one bundle after another from my
hand, swing them upward with easy
strength, and pack them in the rail
overhead. l was struck by his quite,
deferential manner, and when we sub
sided into our respective corners, looked
at him with interest to see what sort of
companion fate had given to us for the
long night journey.
1 saw respectable looking contadi-
no, dressed in blue homespun, with
wildly white shirt, above which his
sunburned face appeared even browner
than ever. His hair was gray, his
features grave and worn, and put him
down as sixty years of age, or even
little older. He seemed more inclined
to silence than the majority of his fell
low countrymen, but Margaret was
bound to make some pretense of cary
ing out her purpose, and remarked in
her very best Italian that it was a
beautiful evening.
1t was a commonplace observation,
but we were startled by the intensity of
the reply.
"Ah, it is indeed a beautiful EVENING"
cried the stranger, and the emphasis
with which he spoke proved that the
words had no common significance in
bis mind, though fine evenings are by
no means of rare occurrence in Italy in
the month of May. AS he spoke he
turned reluctantly from the window,
and we looked into his face with a
shock of surprise. The features were
stamped with the impress of great
sorrow, but it was the eyes which held
US spell bound-brown eyes, liquid and
beautiful as only Italian eyes can be,
but with an expression of such infinite
pathos as words cannot describe.
awe are starting on long Journey"
Margaret explained as preliminary;
sail the way to Sicily. We shall be two
nights in the train. 1 suppose you are
not going so far?"
"Not quite, am for Rosino, village
in the north of Calabria. l shall arrive
about ten o'clock tomorrow morning.
1t is my native place. The signora has
been in Calabria, perhaps, if she is fond
of travel?"
mo, [ have never been so far south.
We have been staying at Naples, and 1
am enchanted with the bay. Could
anything be more beautiful than
Naples on moonlight night 2
at is more beautiful in Calabria," he
said, simply.
1t was evident that our companion
possessed his full share of that love of
beauty which is characteristic of his
race, but for such an intelligent-look-
ing man he was woefully Uniformed,
and his IL don't know, signora," ~
can't tell you, signora," began to have a
monotonous sound in our ears. The
explanation came at last, when l asked
if there was post van attached to the
train, wherein could deposit the card
which had just been writing.
81 can't tell you, signora," said the
oontadino once more; then looking at
US very earnestly with his beautiful
eyes: 81 am the worst man in the world
to. give you information about such
things" he said, slowly, "for only yester-
day came out of prison, and this is
my first day of liberty for twenty-six
years."