The Hardin tribune-herald. [volume] (Hardin, Mont.) 1925-1973, 1936-11-13

Now Pepita had a great silver brooch
that her mother had given her on the
occasion of her first communion, a
year before. She valued it more than
anything else in the world; 1t was the
one beautiful thing she possessed, the
one thing that was all her own. An
admiring neighbor had exclaimed once
in her hearing that it must be worth
q lot of money. Remembering this now,
in her need, with the easy and ready
~self-sacrifice of a child Pepita at once
decided that her silver brooch should
go the same way as the cassone, and
purchase the candle that was to make
their troubles. So n morning, not
long after Bianchina's recital of the
miracle of the canary, Pepita slipped
the brooch into the front of her dress,
and, watching her opportunity to steal
away unobserved, set out along the
road to the town. In her pocket she
had put her rosary and a neatly fold
of white rihand (also a relic of her
first communion on which she had
written in big letters the following
message:
"Signor San Filippo, questa can
della e per Lei. La prego di guarlre
il Babbo, che e state ferito nella
fattoria sci mesi ia. Non quo piu
laborare, e siamo in miseria. Pep
tia Gaddi."
(Sir Saint Philip, this candle is
for you. Please to heal my father,
who was injured in the factory six
months ago. He cannot work any
more and we are in poverty.)
For, Pepita thought to herself, I do
not understand what I want; but if I
write it out for hi mhe cannot make
any mistake. And if he understands
then surely, if the candle is big enough.
he will perform so good a miracle. And
with a child's stubborn faith and hope,
her heart beating high with anxious
excitement, the pious little truant pat
tered along the road, across the old
bridge and into that strange and in
timidating place the town.
The church of San Filippo stands in
a small piazza. It still has its Gothic
facades, of a warm pink tone, but the
interior was altered at the renaissance
There are pillars and pilasters Of red
dish marble, shallow arches and shell
vaulting. Houses have been built up
round the old church, making it very
dark; in front of the altar of st. Philip
tapers of all sizes burn and gutter
in the gloom of 2 many spiked r o
frame-there are pools and mounds OF
fallen wax on the paving below it. Few
people come there in the daytime, but
at morning and evening old women
with shawls over their heads slip in!
kneel in the age blackened pews, and
tell their beads with knotted shaking
fingers or add a candle to the forest
on the frame.
Hither Pepita found her way about
midday. With the money that they had
given her at the Monte di Pieta in ex-
change for the brooch she had bought
a candle so big that she was carrying 1t
in both arms. She slipped in rather
shyly, peering about with eyes unac-
customed to the gloom after the hot
MONDAY glare outside. There was the
shrine of. San Filippo, with the stand
Of tapers. Pepita stood for a long time
clasping her large candle, looking up
at the big picture of the saint above
the altar. Some nameless and forgot
ten artist of the early renaissance had
succeeded in putting something Of his
spirit into the painting. Time and the
smoke of countless candles have SO
blackened and dimmed the tones that
in the uncertain light nothing of the
background OF subsidiary personages
can any longer be seen; but the figure
of the saint stands out all the more
wonderfully in the gloom. Pepita no.