The herald and news. [volume] (Newberry S.C.) 1903-1937, 1907-07-05
SAINT zITA AND THE BEGGAR.
A Lovely Legend We Picked Jpn in
Bozzanello- Candle that the
Angels Set to Burn Forever.

St. Zita was a little Italian girl
who lived away back in the thirteenth
century-the time Of crusades and
tournaments and troubadours, Of
brave knights and beautiful ladies,
and of poetry. But one would think
hat there could be little poetry in
he life Of St. Zita; for she was only
little servant maid, who spent all
her days scrubbing floors and wash
ing dishes. busting and running Of
errands. And not every little girl who
sweeps up ashes and sits in the CHM
ney cornerNan turn out to be Clnd-
erella with a coach and four. Yet
there were stories ted of strange and
beautiful things that happened to ST..
Zita. and her name is still dear to the
people who live in the little town
where it all took place. This was the
tiny village Of Bozzanello in Italy,
the fairest country Of the world. In
summer the skies are blue all day
long, and the air is full Of perfume
and the song Of birds. The village lies
on the slope Of Mount Sagrate, and
all about are green vineyards and Or
chards and groves Of olive trees,
whose fruit is made into oil and sent
to the town Of Lucca, nine miles
away. After all it is poetry enough
just to live in a land where one
breathes a little poem all the time,
and where one sees poetry all about
in flowers and sunshine, and glimpses
across the blue, blue Italian sea.
But Zita had still more poetry than
this in her life. More than anything
else she loved to 60 to church. She
loved the singing and the lights and
the great rolling organ music; she
loved the beautiful words Of the
hymns, and the arches above her
head; for they made her feel that she
was herself a part Of this wonderful
poem Of praise. And when all is said,
this was the finest poetry in the
world, even in. those romantic times,
and not even the knights and their
fair pr;nceSses had more.
Zisa's parents were poor, so she
had to 60 out to earn her bread while
she was still very young. They sent
her to be a little maid in the family
\of kind nobleman, Cont Pagano de
atinelli, and here she lived and was
apy and contented, for they loved
early, and were good to her al
Still, she had to work hard,
sometimes she grew very weary
re the long day was done. But
was never too tired to go to
rch every morning, and on Sun
rs and holy days beside. She was
(er too sleepy or lazy, for this
her chiefest pleasure, indeed al
st the only one she had.
yow, one Christmas Eve Zita was
lg to hear the carols sung in the
age church. It was very cold, and
master did not think she was
|ssed wsNmly enough. So the Count
It for his beautiful cloak, lined
h purple satin and clasped with
I'd clasps. And just as she was
starting out he stopped her, saying,
, kindly:
"Here, little Zita, you must wear
my cloak tonight, or you Will be
cold. But take care that YOU bring it
safely back to me. for it is very pre-
eious." Zita thanked him, promising
to be careful, and hurried away, for
she was already late. When she
reached the church the doors were
closed and everyone else had gone IN.
She was hurrying through the porch
when she felt some one pull corner
of her dress. Turning about she saw
beggar crouching in the snow. He
was a poor cripple, and looked Ve''v
sick and old. His face was blue /
cold and his blue, numb hands trem-
bled as he held them up, asking pit
eously for a little gift on Christmas
Eve. Now Zita was poor herself, and
she had nothing to give. But it made
the tears come into her eyes to see
him so cold and miserable. If only he
ould wait until the rich people came
ut of church, warm and happy, and
II Of kindly Christmas spirit, she
lew that they would give generous
ly. y But meanwhile he might freeze
Ito death in the snow. What could
she do for him? A sudden thought
ame- to her! One had been kind to
:; she would pass the kindness on.
would loan him the cloak. for