New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1904-04-17
HOlIESICK IN Il CELLAR.
The Man from Palermo and His
Thrd-aUc. 4bOde.

TT began like this" said a New-Yorker the
other day. Just opposite where lived there
was the sign of n shoemaker in a cellar, and
this reminded me that one Of my easiest pairs OF
shoes was beginning to go into holes. Notably.
there hole at the left hand side of the
left shoe that worried and vexed me. So at last
carried out an intention to have it mended-
Ten cents said our friend down below.
"'An right said L
81 to come the next night, but couldn't
and didn't. being otherwise occupied. Three
nights afterward l went across the way with
some misgiving. Our friends subterranean bur-
row was dark as Erebus. 1 shouted below, but
none answered me Perplexed, spoke to the
tailor on the ground fioor-a of immense
concentration. So concentrated was he that he
could not be civil Also he was a non-English
speaking German, and when / tried 10 make
him understand the situation-Tny bootless quest,
If might be pardoned the e&pression-he man.
ifestly wished the interview at end
II gathered that he referred me TO the father
Of Burrow No. Is occupant. The father bur-
rowed in Third-ave. in another cellar. with, I
was told. weird cooking arrangements In the
far interior. i set out for Burrow No. 2 1
shouted below. but again answered me.
CHANGING timidly down the reeking. muddy
steps. half wood and half stone / resolved TO
venture below.
NabAcililB the bhiTIS OF OVerCOsAI around
me- plunged below the pavement When my
eyes grew accustomed to the semI-darkness, n
dreamy eyed Italian came forward, whom L
promptly addressed in the best accent of Tus-
cany. l sought his son; yes. indeed his son
had a shoe of mine. Had the father seen any
thing Of the son. or OF my shoe? No. the father
had seen neither. And he sighed softly-Ieav-
ing me in doubt to which he considered the
mere serious loss. his son my shoe
Would the father mind telling the son, when
he him. to leave that shoe with the German
tailor above Burrow No. 1. 1 had left
the sum of one Ira with the same 'concen-
trated gentleman?
Yea. verify, would the father do it And
Herewith We fell attacking Of his lovely land
which 1 knew WELL from the snow-white
Duomo of Milano. right down to the olive groves
underneath the Monte PeIlegrino. In Sicily. That
was enough for the poor old fellow.
Z" SIR cried he. I'm a-weary OF this place.
and my heart aches for the sunlight and the
lemon groves and the pomegranates in scarlet
blossom All, you know the great orange or
chards Of Messina and PaIermoI I read II in
your eyes. You have stood by the moonlight in
the Flavan amphtheatre, and recalled the days
when the tigers bounded therein You have
seen Vesuvius smoke and fume and glare above
Bella Napou. You know our beauteous Capri
and Amalf1 and Sorrento. You have seen the art
treasures of the Pitt and U1izi-aye and the
strange horserace that they call the PABLO on
barebacked horses round the stone paved piazza
OF Siena Signor, tell you my heart aches for
these things. My arms stretch out for them in
the night, but my only reply is the roar and the
clang OF the Il" trains along Third-ave, or the
weird Shrek Of the fremen's whistle as the
brigade thunders on its way to q skyscraper
frer
o,1fyr 4aor
was much touched. but to this moment have
not secured that shoer'