The herald and news. [volume] (Newberry S.C.) 1903-1937, 1909-06-25

caves, 4 mother was seated on the
earthen floor, sucking a babe and
grooming a lullaby: the father. cloth
ed in q single garment Of leather,
which left his legs and chest bare,
carving on his shoulder a wooden
pitchfork, which was nothing more
nor less than a long forked stick with
its two prongs hardened in the fire
had lust come in from the field and
was wipine the sweat from his brow
with his hairy arm: dog was seated
in the mouth Of the cave: on the grass
two baby boys, stark naked, were roll
ing and tumbling like puppies, with
their pink bodies glowing in the sum
light, pretty as the peach blossoms
that the wind was scattering from
nearby tree. The father dropped his
rude fork and stopped to grab one of
the babies and toss it high in the air,
while I went back to civilization, en-
vying him with all my heart. One
month Of poverty had soured me, l
was thinking for the moment, but a
life Of it had left him sweet.
.Tuesday-This morning Signora X,
the good wife Of my artist host, came
home piping mad from the Capuchin
church around the corner where she
had gone to early mass. Some vii
famous wretch had poured a bottle
Of ink into the holy water basin. The
worshippers sleepily entering the dim
church in the early morning had
each mechanically, according to the
custom, dipped finger in the basin
and then touched their foreheads to
make the sign Of the cross. Result:
some twenty Of them, among whom
the signora, had daubed their faces
with ink, before the deviltry was dis
covered.
In the crypt Of this same church
is the famous Capuchin cemetery or
ossuarv, a series Of subterranean
rooms with walls lined from ceiling
to floor with skulls, the ceilings dec
GRATED with rib-bone arabesques. the
??aneine lamps suspended by and dec
Grated with strings Of knuckle bones
fastened together on wires: skeletons
of long deceased brethren still cloth
ed in robe and cowl and standing
everywhere around in inches: some
of them are not really skeletons but
dried corpses, often with part OF the
face gone and the bone showing IN
places through the cracked parchment
skin: these latter are horrible. But
the skeletons are not. Their monk1sh
earb lends them an indefnable air OF
peaceful benevolent tranquility, ana
I had quite a pleasant conversation
with one Of them, an old fellow whom
the sacristan afterward told me was
the Fra Benedetto di Rieto, deceased
February 21st, 1928. It gave. me
queer sensation to gaze into his cav
ernous eyes and think that he had
been standing there for more than
generation when the old State house
bell at Philadelphia pealed out the
defiance Of the Thirteen Colonies to
British rule: that he was still stand
inc irnmobile when Napoleon changed
the map of Europe, and that be would
still be standing there when we all lie
beneath the sod. On his face there
-e1ezs 4soN 'eI!ms eEH-xu6Qds e seA
tons grin, but he was smiling, and
there was infinite wisdom in his
smile. Two American girls, who
came into the crypt at the moment l
was talking with Fra Benedetto,
stopped a moment with feminine
curiosity to see what I was looking
at 50 6xedly: they caught the shadow
of that smile, and maybe part OF It's
meaning also, for they turned glggllng
nervously and rustled their pretty
silken skirts with a pathetic flourish
as if to say, "No, No! What have we
to do with that? Youth and life are
eternal" but soon the nervous mlrth
was frozen on their lips and they hur-
ried from the place with their after
noon spoiled, while the old monk
smiled calmly on. !
Wednesday-In the upper part OF |
the Capuchin church of which I was !;
writing yesterday, hangs one OF the
most celebrated oil paintings in
Rome, picture, which all the world
comes to see, Guido Reni's St. Mich !
ael. I don't know very much about ;
art, but I have common sense enough !
to despise without afectation the
wishy-washy false sentiment Of Guido