Citation
The heart of a boy

Material Information

Title:
The heart of a boy (Cuore) a schoolboy's journal
Series Title:
Young America series
Uniform Title:
Cuore
Creator:
De Amicis, Edmondo, 1846-1908
Mancastrota ( Engraver )
Mantellini, Gaetano Ettore Raffaele, 1856-
Laird & Lee, Publishers ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
Chicago
Publisher:
Laird & Lee
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Edition:
Ed. de luxe
Physical Description:
290 p., [33] leaves of plates : ill. ; 20 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Students -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Teachers -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Accidents -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Friendship -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Brothers and sisters -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Soldiers -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Storytelling -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Shipwrecks -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Diaries -- 1899 ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1899
Genre:
Diaries ( rbgenr )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- Illinois -- Chicago
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Illustrations engraved by Mancastrota.
General Note:
Title page printed in red and black.
Statement of Responsibility:
by Edmondo de Amicis ; translated from the 224th Italian edition by G. Mantellini.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026564454 ( ALEPH )
ALG1347 ( NOTIS )
228823970 ( OCLC )

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THE HEART OF A BOY.

[CUORE.]










Tae

HEART OF A Boy

(CUORE)

A SCHOOLBOY’S JOURNAL

By EDMONDO ve AMICIS

TRANSLATED FROM THE 224ruH ITALIAN EDITION
By PROF. G. MANTELLINI



EDITION DE LUXE

CONTAINING 32 FULL-PAGE HALF-TONE ENGRAVINGS
5 AND 26 TEXT ILLUSTRATIONS

CHICAGO

LAIRD & LEE, PUBLISHERS



Entered according to Act of Congress in the year eighteen hun-
dred and ninety-five by
WM. H. LEE,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.



Copyright. 1899, by
Wn. H. Lee.



CONTENTS

OCTOBER: Oran
ThesKirst’Dayof Schoolies ace ee a a 9
Ours Masternssehiten pect se nmr srcumeens aan man haeiered tre apens on wens ane YL
ATA CCId en tenures inar a ani marae runtae nu nr ous ir te, eine ame nee errata DO,
The: CalabrianvBoy were ces reek ne ye cece onan omane cnt
My AGTA SSI ates ei ctnai aces setcnes carer terne sete acaba cad ab re neten SLO,
A Noble Action, . . pace Sanaa tse aa ers ete CLG
My School Mistress of the Upper F Fie WS peut ase weer O
PnancAttion ci onan : Bie Racin aaa ee niee Notes anne O
The School, . . ee aie One ea ue oR Muon i iran
The Little Patriot of Padua. epee Mee nanan Sear nents eae DS

NOVEMBER:

HeVChIMNey SWCD y ars ate te pune eee chen a eee ue
PAUL SSO US 2a ayaa esas ane eee lee atc ieee ee it Ihenest ert aie opine anne eC)
My Friend Garrone, . . Ue RRO ny adie senae iagely Tamera AS:
The Charcoal Man and the ‘Gemisman: ses ode RelA RITA NUE eon once O)
My Brother’s School- HEE SUSI ysen sem A tae Ucn norte akan ute ego
My Mother, . . Meceauss tayarom mole Mutane Weert ele meta oO
My Companion Cores hes Vaiitec disse ape tate hats Feet ai ne earl ieeen nee U OO
ThePrincipalvot-the Schooljce a cke eno ee So BO)
The Soldiers, . . . de easeh eae a cde scaear ahs Oe aeegs eeeron te apa ete A ()
TheeProtectorofiNelli ccm 95) eu: Anite Cn a are etaneiie ct A
The First of the Giness ee Paes si acess att ee ne tore eae opment TAA
The Little Vidette of Lombardy, Sees aprlge ay atan ane Secret aoe |
The Poor, ) . 25. ae tee oem nn ae L
DECEMBER:
Phe Wrading Boys. ow Se Dae, 58
Vanity; ice. Seine Sis seelee Conia he enigma racine deka ar RO
The First Snow Sore BORE ok ea aera eee ay EU oO NEE G)
EReREittlewMiasonisens tied) Cob ssn en rn aren ea eu seinen sens en O
PAE STO WeBall ae cee Malo cra anes ecient erence rep aerate OO
The School-Mistress, : . eee AOS Dalby eae epee eG

In the Home of the Wounded ayae incision Seales ov aunOD



4 CONTENTS

PAGE
The Little Florentine Writer, . . . .....2..~.. . 65
Bat Lp Ss eee Gale recreate io ee ete cere en eee a ee PACD og aan ses Cougs ane O
(GAEL ETL Gay i ey oe ek ane eee peor carrera 4
JANUARY:
bie! Substitute; meses. se cane yuna an gec hiner eel ea cate
Stardi’s Library, . . . OMS oR Gee ee ae HED ey nae Gay Cpe ie aan Lal
The Son of the Black sinith Duna: ga Wiig eda ep ales ola aa cheerios Ra eee Mea Oa (8
A Nice Visit, . . . AS eat nate AOU nent ee etiraleaes S()
The Funeral of VAEtORO mance er aay aD te Sie EEO!
Franti Expelled from School, . . . . ...... 2.2. ~ 88
The Sardinian Drummer Boy, cesta earn ee ee cc oe) BS
RheTove oh Our Countrys. 99 esa tea eee OS
BNVY sy Se essa ease ae Nera onto ant a igen Oy cree eG
Franti’s Mother, Bea litsag Utrera ke ag eaiainon aig un Negeaere hun eae Ri ahi bys
LOD Fatetic ices acne ralie oe ite pea taper yt ec cer Ty ee Ce PE 99
FEBRUARY:
AuWell-AwardeddMedal oii ge te = sy aren tee weet Oi
Good Resolutions, . . poy east aa er ne ean nie Oo oranene eC)
The LittleRailway, Drains on ona his a eae eed 04
Pride, .. TEttieaic est mee tlt elan eee te neaNnonbegcm area (OG
The Wounds of Worl Bare eat uy aps ele, Sen eit len Seen tig area eee |S
PP He PPrisOnen, hit weg eeceu ial er eet ee Bee ever ame ttenn eoeerat (if ()
PaparssNurse psaus ott ace. Unit en met aris Mera oes a ene oer SITS
APHES WOT SHO p figs tote TU ie Nese eet Alana are Ok aie ges
The Little Clown, . . ota i es ahee sentient Dae pet aaah Sens [Sa
The Last Day of the Carnival Rea nel nd uenbenees ieemernn ae LOS
A hecBlindsB oy siceiiecccr wie isis onan een oe none ta) Faas amare eben
PEHELSICKMMAS ERs eas airs hei eee er ey ae eC rere ere ea ana S37
BODILOLS Pree ncn et ait seattle lt tne ar cementite penned areata eT SO
MARCH:
The Evening Schoolssi ase ae ee Cred een ee TAO
PDHERH I oh tease seins aie ee nen pie oc a ametnitstye peau ena meee yee omeaT AD
Mie Boy suRielativesig: cise ited me latin emus sna ara pam eeceent 4a
IN Ut Dera Oise ue cia eereniy aiebe ten anre cu ene Sim aed (tiene time oll eT G
The Little Dead Boy, . . Unie keaton rer AS
The Eve of the Fourteenth Bt March PISS on Ga ee eee toe Sy eee TD ()
‘hed istributioncorpPrizesya cn os a a nee ee Re eee Gils
PASO MATTE Mere remanicrcs Ine y meee late te eae eet onl cance: ty Re ety eat ea Near 6

MYA SISters: oon urs miner ce nun we rei ae Nu wen ae Reopen cee ena |OS



CONTENTS 5

z PAGE
Blood of Romagna, . . apy ie aay ea peony ase sae OO
The Little Mason Seriously ull, Mental eee n ata eens Ime OS
The Count Cavourete osce i SOt I eo ee lO:
APRIL:
Spring, . . Ba ae ree ea voet ae soar aaree ael eee Gu Cetus Leh
King Umberto, Pate Gens.) areas Knaus Gr veh tt evn eeu Ld
Thesntant Asylum, age cesses ence Sieroter erie OS
Athes G yimtlasin mise ea rescinded arena gL Om
My Father's Teacher saci io Shee Ae Se ei 85,
Convalescence, . . Baie olor ie pa ami eo
The Friend of the Workwaay RnR ope geet aoe are elneas: eines Mier ird Wale
Garrone’s Mothenemierrat ts tue ann eat wean ae LOS
Giuseppe Mazzintyar wert ct eee Se he LOD
GivicaVialor yaa sree tae etanercept ne innanrcreane te a
May:
The Children with the Rickets, . . . . ... .. . . 206
Sacrifice asda we ano oe Na UN al eerualr ny Snore reer ainrcasna 08
*phevbirey oss 008 Spel tena imu ee tren aia nestery cia 121
From the Apennines to the Andes: Sod ues ware uantcrer era wet vie 2 de
Stuiim erate raat cpt une tee procee woven meen Tame Matar Se oO
Poetry, . . POLE meee a RIC GTO paw eM neon act OO
The Deaf and Durib Girl, ee tage wna tne neon cosa a nam eEMnneE 8 Undo]:
JUNE:
Garibaldi wissen varies cores omnia crenata unm ine Gare an ADO,
THEVA IY: pete ete Thee i pene Naar eee eh ee eA AOU
Italy,. . . eee ates nae er eo AOS,
Thirty-two Degrees Centigrade, Gees ia me ees anne ao eas AOD
My Father, .. . SE St a ceNee Don ule Ne ent aia ee et 00
In the Country, Dee es Meet eain a deren ZOO
The Distribution of Prizes ‘ the Went iem Hee nae ine Rien OO)
My Dead School-Mistress, . . 2. - - . +e 2 1. es 272
Chva niles asns suet eet ig tered as et iu wak apt aia vrei one aren a (
A Shipwreck, Tailed pub ecas Greats one seo Ce aetna erate ome ye AUD)
JULY:
The Last Page from My Mother, . . 2. 2 . . 1 1. 282
hers xaimination: wesosu coats Some ature asim enines ts Oe
Mieclast Examinations cre sec tan Jeg sae eae Sg OO.

are welleeee an ieuavn ade ec meee eating ain aren iceman AOL



FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS

Opposite

Page -
Portrait of Edmondo de Amicis, . . . ....... -. Title
Poor, tired, little chap, . . . : Ag ect eet ee
. others, seeing their parents iene he 6 CLS Rage cee onan meee LO),
He pointed to Reggio di Calabria on the wall map of oe ares egestas] 4
Then Garroni said resolutely: ‘‘It was I,”’ ; Meee eee LS,
. . . in a few rough words the child told ie Rion cater nie ei eu an eee ee OD
A tempest of coins fell upon their heads, . . . . ..... . 24
It was Coretti carrying a load of WOO series = riileh cea eis seta hyn ne eae OG
That boy resembled perfectly hisown lostson, . . . ... . . 88.
The band . . surrounded by a crowd of a psi asset et en ees eat ecient eRe.
And he slept there in the grass, . . . rd weep nt Pa cme nee ate),
Coming down with a log to vvarm the trnaee SLOOD) aittse Uy eo Cee oe Gee OO.
She plays the part of mother toward them, . . ....... . 62
The old man had his right eye panda ged: eeepc cats aan dese mete cer OA
His brow leaning against his son’s heart, . . ET Gk er Rene eho,
They darted out of the house with lowered Nereneras Teese haere as O()
At that moment passed the military surgeon, . . . . . . . . . 92
Upon the litter, a man as white as a corpse, . . . yong oe 108:
. he went every day to teach the prisoners in the aie ee odan mere ()
A con dressed as a peasant and with abundle, . . . pee era ay mecr lk
The sister drew the curtains saying, “This is your iiner Stee eee es EIA:
The blind children at their music lesson, . ..... . . . , 184
A mother dreaming of her absent boy, . . . . .... . . . . 160
The old teacher opened a narrow drawer, . . . . . . . . , . 188
The child wrested his friend from the river, . . . .... . , 904
‘Poor little shriveled and distorted bodies!". . . . . . . . . 906
“'T will do everything you wish—everything!” . . . .., . . . 210
He stood looking at the convoy until it VaniShediet gl Sees eye 1936
They wereIndians,. . . Se Guba hacer eer R
Worn out, the boy fell on the ayede: Selon eeciitmtan Mecilan ewer mame sO 4 ()
We went along, running androlling, . . ...., .. . . . 268
The funeral of the dead school-mistress, . . . . . Sey ee are

A number of them were kneeling around the priest, . . rile eae,





AUTHOR’S PREFACE.

This book is particularly dedi-
cated to boys of the elementary
schools, between the ages of nine to thirteen years, and it
might be called, ‘‘History of a School Year, by a pupil of
the Third Grade of a Public School in Italy.’

By saying that it was written by a pupil of the third grade,
Ido not wish to convey the idea that it was written by him

entire, or as it appears in print. The boy noted down success-



ively in a copy-book, what he knew, what he saw, what he
felt, thought and experienced inside and outside the school;
and his father, at the end of the year, wrote these pages from
those notes, endeavoring not to alter the thought but to pre-
serve, as near as possible, even the words used by his son.
The latter, however, four years later, having entered the High
School, re-read the manuscript and added to it something of
his own, drawing upon his memory, still fresh, of the people
and things.

Now read this book, boys. I hope it will please you and

do you some good.





Poor, tired, little chap.



THE HEART OF A BOY



OCTOBER
THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL,

Monday the r7th.

This is the first day of school. My three months spent in
the country passed like a dream, ‘This morning my mother
took me to the Baretti school to have me entered for the third
elementary grade. I was thinking of the country and went
reluctantly. The streets were swarming with boys; the book-
sellers’ shops crowded with fathers and mothers who were
buying bags, portfolios, and copybooks; and so many people
thronged in front of the school that a janitor and policeman
had a very hard time keeping the entrance clear.

Near the door, some one touched me on the shoulder; 1t was
my teacher of the second elementary. Always cheerful, he said:

“Well, Enrico, are we separated forever? ”

I knew it too well, still those words pained me.

We made our way through the crowd with difficulty.
Ladies, gentlemen, women of the middle class, workingmen,
officers, grandmothers, servants, each leading a boy with one
hand and holding the books of promotion with the other, were
crowding the entrance and the stairway, making sucha buzzing
that it seemed like entering a theatre. I saw with pleasure the
large hall on the ground floor with the doors of the seven class
rooms where I had passed nearly every day for three years.
There was a crowd of school mistresses coming and going. She

(9)



10 THE HEART OF A BOY

who had taught me in the first upper class saluted me from the
door of her room and said:

‘* Enrico, you go upstairs this year, I shall not even see you
pass !’? and looked at me with sadness. The principal had
around him mothers in distress because there was no room for
their children, and it seemed to me that his beard was a little
whiter than it was last year. J also noticed that some of the
boys had grown taller and stouter.

On the ground floor, where the divisions had already been
made, there were children of the first and lowest grade who did
not want to enter the class-room and who balked like donkeys;
it was necessary to push them in; some escaped again from
their benches; others, seeing their parents leave, commenced to
ery, and the father or mother would return to offer consolation
or take them home again, and the teachers were in despair.

My little brother was to enter the class of Mistress Delcati ;
I was put in that of Master Perboni up on the first floor.

At ten o’clock we were all in the class-room; fifty-four of us;
only fifteen or sixteen of my class-mates of the second grade,
among whom was Derossi, the one who always wins the first
prize. ‘The school-room seemed small and sad tome. I was
thinking of the. woods and mountains where I had spent the
summer. I was also thinking of my teacher of the second
class;‘he was so good and always laughed with us, and so small
that he seemed: like a companion, and I was sorry not to see
him there with his bushy red hair. Our present teacher is tall, -
with long hair and no beard, and he has a straight wrinkle
across his forehead. His voice is heavy and he looks at us
fixedly, as though to read our inmost thoughts; I do not think
he ever laughs. I was saying to myself: ‘‘ This is the first
day. Nine more months. How much work, how many
monthly examinations, how much fatigue!” I felt the need of
finding my mother at the close. Iran to her and kissed her
hand. She said: ‘‘ Courage, Enrico! we will study together,’’
and I returned home happy. But I no longer have my master













Others, seeing their parents leave, began to ery.



THE HEART OF A BOY 11

with his kind and cheerful smile, and the school does not seem
so pleasant to me as it did last year.

——

OUR MASTER

Tuesday the 18th.

My new teacher pleases me since this morning. While we
were coming in, he stood at his post, and many of his pupils
of last year peeped in through the door to salute him:
‘Good day, Signor teacher,’’ ‘‘Good day, Signor Perboni;’’
some would enter, touch his hand and run away. It was plain
that they liked him and would have been pleased to remain
with him. He answered: ‘‘Good day,’’ shook the hands that
were tendered him, but looked at no one, and at every salute
remained serious, with the straight wrinkle on his forehead,
turning his head toward the window and looking at the roof of
the house opposite. Instead of enjoying those salutations he
seemed to suffer from them. Then he looked at us, one after
the other, attentively. While dictating, he came walking
down between the benches, and seeing a scholar whose face
was all red with pimples, he paused, took the boy’s face be-
tween his hands and looked at him; asked the cause of the
trouble and felt his forehead to see if it were warm. Inthe
meanwhile, the boy behind him stood up on the bench and be-
gan to play the marionette. Our master turned around sud-
denly; the boy sat down quickly and awaited his punishment.
The teacher placed his hand on his head and said: ‘‘ Do not
do it any imore!’’ and returned to his desk. When he had
finished dictating, he looked at us silently for a moment, and
then said very slowly, in his heavy yet kind voice:

‘* Listen, we have a year to pass together, let us seek to
pass it well. Study and be good. I have no family. You
may take the place of my family. I had a mother last year
but she is dead. I have no one else in the world now but you.



12 THE HEART OF A BOY

I have no other affection, no other thought than you. You
must be my sons; I love you; you must love me. I do not
want to be obliged to punish any one. Show me that you are
boys with good hearts, and our school will be a family and you
will be my consolation and my pride. I do not ask a promise
of you, I am sure that in your hearts you have already told me
‘yes’ and I thank you.”’

At that moment the janitor came in to announce that the
class was over, and we left our desks very quietly. ‘The boy
who had stood up on his bench approached the master and
said to him in a trembling voice :

‘« Signor master, will you forgive me?”’

The master kissed his forehead and said: ‘‘Go, my son.”’

AN ACCIDENT

Friday the 2rst.

The year hascommenced with an accident. Going to school
this morning, I was repeating the words of the teacher to my
father, when we beheld the street thronged with people who
were crowding in front of the school. My father said: ‘‘ An
accident! the year commences badly.”’

We entered with some difficulty. The large hall was so
crowded with relatives of the boys that the teachers could
hardly reach their class-rooms, and all were turned toward the
ptincipal’s room and we could hear them saying, ‘‘ Poor boy.”
‘*Poor Robetti!”’

Above the heads at the further end of the room, which was
thronged with people, one could see the helmet of a policeman
and the bald head of the principal; then a gentleman with a
silk hat entered and they all said: ‘‘It is the doctor.’”’ My
father asked a teacher what was the matter, and he answered:
“‘A wheel passed over his foot.’’ ‘‘It crushed his foot,’’ said
another. ‘‘It is a boy of the second grade, who, ‘when



THE HEART OF A BOY 13

coming to school through the street Dora Grossa, saw a child
of the first grade, who had run away from his mother, fall in
the middle of the street only a few steps from an omnibus
which was coming upon him. He ran and caught up the boy
and put him in safety, but not being quick enough to withdraw
his own foot, the omnibus had passed over it. He is the son
of an artillery captain.” While they were telling us this, alady
entered the room looking like a crazy woman, breaking her
way through the crowd. It was the mother of Robetti, for
whom they had sent. Another lady ran to meet her and threw
her arms around her neck, sobbing; it was the mother of the
child who had been saved. Both ran into the room and a des-
perate cry was heard: ‘‘Oh, my Giulio, my child!”’

At that moment a carriage stopped in front of the door, and
the principal appeared with the boy in his arms, the sufferer's
head leaning upon his shoulder, with a white face and closed
eyes. All were silent, and one could hear the mother sobbing.
The principal stopped a moment, raised the boy with both arms
and showed him to the people. ‘Then masters, mistresses, par-
ents and boys murmured together: ‘‘ Bravo, Robetti! Bravo, poor
boy!” They threw kisses at him, and the mistresses and boys
who were near him kissed his hands and his arms. He opened
his eyes and said: ‘‘My satchel!’? The mother of the boy
who had been saved showed it to him and said: ‘I will bring
it for you, you angel, I will bring it for you.’’ In the mean-
time she was sustaining the mother of the wounded boy, who
covered her face with both hands. They went out, laid the
boy in the carriage, which was driven away. ‘Then we all
entered the class room silently,



THE CALABRIAN BOY
Saturday the 22nd.

Last evening, while the teacher was giving us the news of
poor Robetti—who will be compelled to walk on crutches for a



14 THE HEART OF A BOY

time—the principal entered the class room with a new pupil, a
boy with a brown face, black hair, big black eyes, and with
thick eyebrows which met between his eyes. He was dressed
in dark clothes with a black leather belt around his waist.
The principal, after whispering into the ear of the master, left
the boy with him. He looked at us with his big black eyes as
though he were frightened. Then the master took him by the
hand, and said to the class: ‘‘ You must congratulate your-
selves. ‘T'o-day there enters the school a little Italian boy, born
at Reggio di Calabria, more than five hundred miles away from
here. You must love your brother who comes from so far.
He was born in that glorious country which has given to Italy
many illustrious men, that still gives her strong workers and
brave soldiers; where there are great forests and high moun-
tains; one of the finest parts of our land, inhabited by people
full of talent and courage. Do love him in a way that will .
make him forget that he is far away from the place where he
was born. Demonstrate to him that an Italian boy, no matter
in what Italian school he may be placed, will find brothers
there.” After saying this, he arose and pointed out on the
wall map of Itely the place where Reggio di Calabria is situ-
ated. ‘Then he called: 5

‘‘ Ernest Derossi,” the one who always gets the first prize.
Derossi stood up. :

‘Come here,” said the master. Derossi left the bench and
went and stood by the desk opposite the Calabrian boy.

‘ Ag the first in the school,” said the master, ‘‘ give a wel-
come to your new companion, the welcome of a boy of Pied-
mont to the son of Calabria.”

Derossi embraced the Calabrian boy, saying with his clear
voice, ‘‘ Welcome!’’ and the latter kissed him on both cheeks
with impetuosity. All clapped their hands. ‘* Silence! ’’ cried
the master; ‘“‘one does not clap hands at school ;’’ but one

could see that he was happy; the Calabrian boy was also happy.





He pointed to Keggio ai Calabria on the wall map of Ttaly.



THE HEART OF A BOY 15

The master assigned him his place and accompanied him to
his desk, then he said:

‘‘Remember what I am about to tell you. In order that a
Calabrian boy might be at home in Turin, and that a boy of
Turin be welcome in Reggio di Calabria, our country fought for
fifty years and thirty thousand Italians died. You must respect
each other, love each other, and any one who would offend his
class-mate because he was not born in our province would
rende: himself ever unworthy to raise his eyes when the flag
of our country passes.’’

As soon as the Calabrian boy was seated in his place, his
neighbors presented him with some pens and a picture, and
another boy from the last bench sent him a rare Swedish post-
age stamp.

MY CLASSMATES
Tuesday the 25th.

The boy who sent the postage stamp to the Calabrian boy
is the one I like best. He is called Garrone; is the tallest of
the class, and is almost fourteen yearsold. Hehasa large head
and broad shoulders. He is good, one can see that when he
smiles, but it seems to me that he is all the time thinking like
_ aman. I already know the names of my classmates. ‘There
‘is another one I like; his name is Coretti, and he wears a knit-
ted chocolate colored coat and a cat-skin cap. He is always

jolly; he is the son of a huckster of wood, who was a soldier in
the war of *66, in the army of Prince Humbert, and I have

heard he has three medals. There is little Nelli, a hunchback,

a frail boy with a pale face. There is one very well dressed,
who wears fine velvet and who is called Votini. On the bench
near me there is a boy whom they call ‘‘The Little Mason”
because his father isa mason. His face is round like an apple,
his nose is like a ball, and he has a particular skill for making
the ‘‘ hare’s face.’ He wears a little soft hat which he dou-
- bles up like a handkerchief and putsin his pocket. Next to the



16 THE HEART OF A BOY

Little Mason, there is Garoffi, a tall, thin fellow with a nose
like an owl’s beak and very small eyes. He is always trading
marbles,. pictures, match boxes, and stamps. He writes his
lessons on his nails to read when the teacher is not watching
“him. ‘There is also a little gentleman called Carlo Nobis. He
looks as though he were rather proud, and he sits between two
boys whom I like very much; one is the son of a blacksmith
ironmonger. He wears a big coat which reaches down to his
knees, seems fearful of saying much and never laughs. The
other is a lad with red hair who has a withered arm which he
carries in asling suspended from hisneck. His father has gone
to America, and his mother goes around selling green vegetables.
_ Stardi, my neighbor on the left, is a.curious type. Heisa
little fellow, heavily built, a grumbler who never speaks to
any one and seems to understand very little. He pays atten-
tion to the teacher without winking, with his forehead wrinkled
and his teeth shut tight. If spoken to while the master speaks,
the first and second time he does not answer, but the third time
he kicks. He has next-to him a boy with a shrewd face. His
name is Franti, and he has already been expelled from another
school. ‘There are also two brothers who look as much alike
as two. drops of water. They both wear hats Calabrian in
style with a pheasant feather stuck in the top. But the hand-
somest and most talented one of all, he who will surely be the
first this year, is Derossi; and the teacher, who has already
comprehended this, questions him all the time. However, I
like Precossi, the son of the blacksmith ironmonger, the boy
who wears the long jacket, and who looks so scared ; they say his
father beatshim. Heisvery timid, and every time he questions
or touches any one, he says ‘‘ Excuse me,’’ and looks up with
his sad, gentle eyes. But Garrone is the bravest and the best.



A NOBLE ACTION.
Wednesday the 26th.
Garrone made himself known this morning. When I



THE HEART OF A BOY ee els?

entered the school (a little late, as I had been stopped by
my old teacher of the first grade, who asked me at what time
she might come to see us at home) the teacher had not yet
arrived, and three or four boys were tormenting poor Crossi,
the one with red hair, who has a paralyzed arm and whose
mother sells green vegetables. They would poke him with
rulers, throw chestnut burrs in his face, and call him ‘‘ cripple ’”’
and “‘ monster,’’ mimicking him as he appeared with his with-
ered arm suspended by the sling from his neck. He was all
alone at his end of the bench looking like a dead person, and
was listening, looking first at one and then at another with
supplicating eyes, beseeching them to let him alone, but they
ridiculed him still more and he commenced to tremble and
tedden with rage. All of a sudden Franti, the one with the
ugly face, jumped on the bench, pretending that he was carry-
ing two baskets'on his arms, aping Crossi’s mother as she used
to come and wait for her son at the door; for now she is ill.
Many began to laugh loudly. Then Crossi lost his head, and
grasping an ink-stand he threw it with all his might at the head
of Franti, who dodged it, and it struck the chest of the teacher,
who was just entering the school room. The boys all scam-
pered to their places and were silent and frightened.

The teacher, pallid, ascended to his desk and in an altered
voice asked :

“Who did it?”

No one answered.

The teacher looked again, raising his voice, ad demanded :
“© Who did it?”

Then Garrone, moved with pity for poor Crossi, rose with
a dash and said, resolutely: ‘“‘It wasI.” |

The teacher looked at him, and then at the other pupils, as
though stupified, and said in a tranquil voice: ‘‘No, it was
not you.”’

After a moment, he added: ‘‘ The guilty one will not be
punished; let him rise.’’



18 THE HEART OF A BOY

Crossi rose and said, crying: ‘‘ They were beating me,
they were insulting me, and I lost my head and threw ne

“ Sit down,” said the teacher. ‘‘’Those who provoked him
rise up.”’ :

Four arose with bowed heads.

‘‘Vou,’? said the teacher, ‘‘ you have insulted a companion
who did not provoke you; you have marked an unfortunate
boy, tormented a weak one who could not defend himself. You
have committed one of the lowest acts, one of the most shame-
ful that can stain a human creature. Cowards!”’

Having said this, he descended among the benches, put a
hand under Garrone’s chin, who sat with his head down, mak-
ing him raise his face; he looked straight into his eyes and
said: ‘‘ You are a noble soul!”’

Garrone, profiting by the moment, murmured something in
the ear of the master, who turned toward the guilty ones and
said: ‘‘I forgive you.”



MY SCHOOL MISTRESS OF THE UPPER FIRST

Thursday the 27th.

My old teacher has kept her word. She called at the house
to-day, just as I was going out with my mother to take wash-
ing to a poor woman mentioned in the paper. It was a year
since we had seen her in our home, and we all greeted her
cheerfully. She is not changed; still the same little woman
with a large green veil around her head, plainly dressed and
her hair carelessly arranged. She has no time to make herself
look nice. She has a little less color than she had last year,
has some white hair, and coughs all the time. My mother said
to her:

‘‘Dear teacher, you do not take good care of yourself.’’

‘‘Oh, never mind,’’ she answered with a pleasant, but
melancholy smile. :





Then Garroni said resolutely: “Tt was 1.”



THE HEART OF A BOY 19

‘“You strain your voice so,’’ suggested my mother. ‘‘ You:
do too much for the boys.’’

it is true one can always hear her voice. I remember
when I was going to her school, she always spoke so that the
boys would not become inattentive, and she would not remain
seated for a moment. I was very sure she would come be-
cause she never forgets her pupils. She remembers their
names year by year, and on the days of the monthly examina-
tion, runs to the principal to ask how many points they have
made. She waits for them at the exit and has them show their
compositions to see whether they have made progress. Some
of the boys from the high school, who wear long trousers and
carry a watch, still come to see her. ‘To-day she was return-
ing, all out of breath, from the Pinacoteca (picture gallery)
where she had taken her boys. Last year she took her pupils
every Thursday to a museum and explained everything to them.
Poor mistress; she has grown thinner than of old, but she is
still lively. She always becomes animated when any one
speaks to her of the school. She wished to see again the bed
where she beheld me sick two years ago, and which is now my
brother’s; she looked at it for awhile and could not speak. She
could not stay long as she had to go and visit a boy of her
class who is sick with the measles, the son of a saddler close by.
Besides, she had a bundle of papers to correct? an evening’s
work, and two private lessons in arithmetic to give to a woman
who keeps a shop, before night came.

‘“Well, Enrico,’’ she said to me when going, ‘‘do you still
love your mistress, now that you are able to solve a difficult
problem and can write a long composition?’’ She kissed me
and called up from the bottom of the stairs: ‘‘ Do not forget
me, Enrico!’

Oh, my good mistress, never, never will I forget you.
When I am a big fellow, I will still remember you and will go
to see you among your boys, and every time I pass neara
school and hear the voice of a mistress, it will seem to me that



20 THE HEART OF A BOY

I hear your voice, and I will live over again the two years
which I spent in your school, where I learned many things;
where I saw you so many times so sick and tired, yet always
so cheerful, so intelligent, and in despair if one acquired some
bad way of holding the pen; trembling when the examiner
questioned us, happy when we made a good showing; always
good, always loving like a mother. Never, never, will I forget
you, my mistress!

IN AN ATTIC
Friday the 28th.

Last evening, my mother, sister and I went to take some
clothes to a poor woman recommended for charity by the
fs newspaper. I carried the
WAN parcel and Silvia had the
newspaper with the initials
of her name, and the ad-
dress. We went up under
the roof of a high house,
a“ through a long corridor
‘| Wa with many doors. My
: mother knocked at the last
one and a woman opened
it; she was a blonde, still
young but thin. It oc-
cured to. me at once that I
had seen her somewhere
before with that same blue
handkerchief worn on her
head.
; “Are you the woman
mentioned in the newspaper as so and so?’’ asked my mother.
‘‘Ves, Signora, I am.’’
“Well, we have brought you some clothes.’? Then the









THE HEART OF A BOY 21

woman began so thank and bless us without end. In the mean-
while, I saw in a corner of the bare, dark room, a boy kneeling
before a chair with his back turned toward us ; he looked as
though he were writing, and he was, indeed, writing, with his
paper on the chair.

“How can he write in the dark?’’ While I said this to
myself, I suddenly recognized the red hair and jean jacket of
Crossi, the boy with the paralyzed arm, the son of the vegeta-
ble vender. I told it softly to my mother, while the woman
was putting away the clothes.

‘“‘Hush,’’ said my mother. ‘‘ Maybe he is ashamed to see
you because you bestow charity on his mother; do not call
him.”

“At that moment, Crossi turned around and I felt embar-
rassed ; he smiled, and my mother gave me a push to make me
run and embrace him. I did so, and-he arose to his feet and
took my hand. ‘Then his mother said :

“Tam here all alone with this boy ; my husband has been
in America for six years; besides, I am sick so that I cannot
go around selling green vegetables and earn a few soldz. I
have not even a table left, upon which my poor little Luigino
can do his work. When I had a bench down at the door, he
could at least write on that; but even that has been taken
away, and he has not even a little light by which to study
without ruining his eyes. It is fortunate for me that I can
send him to school, as the municipality provides him with
books and copy-books. Poor little Luigino, who would study
so willingly. Miserable woman that I am.”

My mother gave her the contents of het purse and kissed
the boy, who almost cried when we left. She did right to tell
me: ‘Look at the poor boy, how he is obliged to work ; and
you, you have all the comforts and still study seems hard to
you. Ah, my Enrico, there is more in one day of his work
than ina year of yours. Such pupils ought to be given the
first prize.’ :



22 THE HEART OF A BOY

THE SCHOOL

Yes, dear Enrico, study is hard, as thy mother tells thee.
Yet, I do not see thee go to school with that resolute mind and
smiling face, as I would like. Thou art still stubborn ; but, listen,
think a little how miserable and despicable thy days would be of
thou didst not go to school! At the end of a week thou wouldst
ask with clasped hands to return again, wearied by annoyance and
shame, tired of thy new toys, and of thy own existence. Every-
body studies now, Enrico. Think of the workmen who go to
school in the evening, after having worked all day; of the women |
and girls of the laboring cass, who go to school on Sunday, after
having worked all week , of the soldiers who take up their reading
and writing books after they return tired from their drilling;
think of the deaf and dumb boys and of the blind, who also
study ; even prisoners learn to read and write. Think in the
morning, when thou goest out, that on that very morning, in thy
own town, there are thirty thousand boys, going like thyself, to
shut themselves in for three hours in order to study. Thenagain!
Think of the innumerable crowds of boys who go to school about
the same hour in all countries. Think of them—in thy imagt-
nation, while they are going—going through village by-ways,
through noisy streets, along the shores of the sea and of the lakes,
through the mist or under the burning sun; in little boats, in
countries where there are canals, on horseback through great
prairies, in sleighs over the snow, over mountains and hills,
through woods and across torrents, up through solitary paths of
the mountains; alone, in couples, in groups, in long files, all with
books under their arms, clothed in a thousand different costumes.
speaking a thousand different tongues, from the remotest schools
of Russia, almost lost in the ice, to the remotest schools of Arabia
shaded with palm trees; millions and millions, all going to learn
the same things in a hundred different ways. Imagine these vast
multitudes of boys from hundreds of nations, this immense move-
ment of which you form a part. And know that af this movement
were to cease, humanity would fall back into barbarism. This







































































a0



/n a few rough words the child told his story.



THE HEART OF A BOY 23

2

movement ts the progress, the hope, the glory of the world,
fave courage then, thou little soldier of this immense army.
Thy books are thy weapons, the whole world thy field of battle; and
the victory ts human civilization. Do not be a cowardly soldier,
my Enrico. Thy Father.

THE LITTLE PATRIOT OF PADUA
(MONTHLY STORY.)
Saturday the 29th.

No, I will not be a ‘‘ cowardly soldier,’ but I would go to
school more willingly if the teacher would tell us a story every
day like the one he tald us this morning. He says he will tell
us one every month. He will give it to us in writing, and it
will always be a tale of noble and true acts performed by a |
boy. ‘The Little Patriot of Padua’’ is the title of this. Here
it is:

A French steamer left Barcelona, a city in Spain, for
Genoa. ‘There were on board Frenchmen, Italians, Spaniards,
and Swiss. There was among the others a boy of eleven,
apparently quite alone, who kept himself aloof like a savage.
And no wonder he looked at every one with forbidding eyes.
Two years previous to this, his father had sold him to the
master of a company of mountebanks, who after having taught
him to perform tricks by dint of beatings, kicks and fasting,
had taken him across France and Spain, abusing him very
often and never giving him enough to eat.

Arriving at Barcelona, no longer able to stand the ill-treat-
ments and hunger, reduced to a pitiable state, he had run
away from his tormenters and had gone to ask protection of
the Consul of Italy, who moved with pity, had put him on
board that steamer, giving him a letter to the chief of police in
Genoa, who was ordered to send him back to the parents whe
had sold him like a beast. bee



24 THE HEART OF A BOY

The poor boy was ragged and sickly looking. They had
given him a second-class cabin. All looked at him, some
questioned him, but he did not answer, and seemed to hate and
despise everyone. So much privation and so many blows had
irritated and spoiled him. ‘Three of the passengers, however,
by insisting with their questions had succeeded in making him
loosen his tongue, and in a few rough words, a mixture of
Venetian, Spanish and French, he told hisstory. Those three
passengers were not Italians; but they understood him, and
partly from compassion, more because excited by wine, they
gave him a few soldi, joking, jesting, and urging him to tell
them more. Several ladies having entered the salon at that
moment, two or three of them, for the purpose of making a
show of themselves, gave him some more money, crying:
. ‘Take this, take that,” and making the money sound upon
the table.

The boy pocketed everything, thanking them in a subdued
voice in his brusque manner, but with a look for the first time
smiling and affectionate. Then he climbed up to his berth,
pulled the curtains, and remained thinking of his own affairs.
With that money he could enjoy a good meal on board, after
two years of starvation! He could buy himself a jacket, as
soon ‘as he landed in Genoa. For two years he had gone
dressed.in rags! He could also take some home, and be re-
ceived by his father and mother a little more humanely than if
he arrived there penniless. It was a little fortune for him. He
was thinking of all this and taking comfort in his thoughts be-
hind the curtain of his cabin, while the three passengers were
talking, seated at the dining table in the middle of the second-
class salon. They were drinking and talking about their trav-
els and of the countries they had visited, going from one topic
to another. At last, they began to discuss Italy. One com-
menced to complain about the hotels, another about the rail-
roads; and then, growing warmer, they all began to abuse
everything. ‘‘ One would prefer to travel in Lapland,”’ said





A tempest of coins fell upon their heads.



THE HEART OF A BOY 25

one; another, ‘“‘had found in Italy none but swindlers and
brigands.’’ The third added that Italian officials did not know
how to read.

“An ignorant people,”’ repeated the first.

“A filthy people,” quoth the second,

‘Rob ” exclaimed the third, meaning to say robbers,
but could not finish his word. A tempest of soldi and half-lire
fell upon their heads and shoulders and leaped upon the table
and floor, making a great noise. All three arose at once,
looking up, and received another handful of coin upon their
faces -

“Take back your soldi,” said the boy disdainfully, looking
out between the curtains of his berth, ‘‘I do not accept alms
from those who insult my country!’?



NOVEMBER

THE CHIMNEY SWEEP
Tuesday the rst.

Last evening, I went to the girls’ school building, next to
our own, in order to give the story of the boy from Padua to
Silvia’s teacher, who wanted to read it. There are seven
hundred girls in this school! When I arrived, they were just
coming out, all happy on account of the vacation of All Souls’
day, and something beautiful took place before my eyes. In
front of the door of the school, on the other side of the street,
a chimney sweep stood, leaning with his head on his arm
against the wall. He was a very small lad, all black in the
face, with his bag and scraper, and he was crying and sobbing
as though his heart would break. ‘Two or three of the girls
of the second grade approached him and asked:

““What is the matter with you? Why do you cry in this
way?’’ But he did not answer and kept on crying.



26 - THE HEART OF A BOY

“But tell us, why do you weep?’’ repeated the girls.
Then he raised his head from his arm, showing the face of a
Baby) and said,weeping: ‘‘I have beenin many houses to sweep
the chimneys and earned thirty soldi; but
I have lost them, they slipped through a
hole in miy pocket,’’ and he showed the
pocket which had a rip init. He further
said that he did not dare go home without
the money.

‘The master will beat me,’’ he sobbed,
— and again dropped his head on his arm,
as though he were in deep despair. The
girls stopped a moment and looked at
‘him sorrowfully. In the meanwhile,
other girls had gathered around him,
rich and poor, with their satchels on their
4) arms. One, who hada blue feather in
‘Jj, her hat, pulled from her pocket two
* soldi and said:

‘«T have nothing but two soldi, let us
make a collection.”’

“‘T also have two soldi,” said another
dressed in red, ‘‘ we will be able.to find thirty among all of
us,’? and they began to collect, calling aloud: ‘‘ Amalia!
Luigia! Annina! A soldo! Who has any soldi? Here are
the soldi.”

Some of them fad! soldi with which fo buy flowers and’
writing books, and they gave them. Others, smaller ones, gave
some centesimi, and the one with the blue feather collected
everything and counted in a loud voice:

‘Bight, ten, fifteen ;’? but more was needed. Then, one of
the largest of them appeared; she looked like a young lady,
and gave a half-lira, and all began to cheer her. Still five
soldi were lacking.

‘Now some of the fourth grade are coming, and they have





- THE HEART OF A BOY Diy,

)

some,’’ said one. Those of the fourth class came, and the
soldi fell down in ashower. They all hurried forward eagerly.
It was a fine sight to see that poor chimney sweep in the midst
of those girls, dressed in so many different colors; it looked
like a whirl of feathers, ribbons and girls. ‘The thirty soldi
had been collected, and more were giving; the little ones who
had no money would make their way among the larger ones,
throwing him their bouquets of flowers in order that they
might give something. All of a sudden the janitress came out
crying:

‘The signora directress!’’ ‘The girls scampered away on
all sides like a flock of birds, and, at that moment, the little
chimney sweep was seen standing alone in the middle of the
street, wiping his eyes. He was happy with his hands full of
money, and he had.in the button holes of his jacket, in his
pockets, and on his hat, bouquets of flowers, and there were
some on the ground at his feet.

ALL-SOULS DAY
Wednesday the 2d.

This day ts consecrated to commemorate the dead. Dost thou
‘know, Enrico, to whose death you boys should dedicate a thought
on thisday? To those who have died for you—for boys and for
all children. How many have died, and how many are continu-
ally dying! Hast thou ever thought how many fathers have
worn out their lives by toiling? How many mothers have de-
scended into their graves before their time, used up by privation
to which they had condemned themselves for the sake of sustain-
ing their children? Dost thou know how many men put a knife
in their hearts, in despair, rather than see their children in mis-
ery, and how many women drown themselves, or die of grief, or
go insane because they have lost a child? Think of all these dead



28 THE HEART OF A. BOY

ones on this very day, Enrico, Think, too, of the many school-
mistresses who have died. young, who were consumed by the
fatigues of the school, for the love of children, whom they had
not the heart to leave. Think of the many physicians who
have died from contagious diseases, having courageously sac-
vificed themselves to cure children. Think, too, of all those
who have perished in shipwrecks, in fires, in times of famine,
who in the supreme moment of danger have yielded to infancy the
last morsel of bread, the last hope of escape, the last place of
safety, and who expire, glad of their sacrifice, since they have
saved the life of a little innocent. They are innumerable, En-
rico. Every cemetery contains hundreds of these sainted beings.
Lf they could rise a moment fron their graves, they would cry the
name of some child for whom they sacrificed the joys of youth, the
peace of old age, all affection, their intelligence, their life; young
mothers of twenty, men in the bloom of youth, octogenarians, old
women, young men; heroic and obscure martyrs to infancy; so
many who were great and noble, that the earth does not produce
flowers enough to cover theiy graves. Think to-day with grati-
tude of those dead, and thou wilt be better and more affectionate
to those who live and toil for thee, dear fortunate son, who in the
' Day of the Dead’ hast no one for whom to weep.
Thy Mother.

°

MY FRIEND GARRONE
friday the ath.

‘There were only two days of vacation, and yet it seems to
me such a long time since I have seen Garrone. The more I
know him, the better I like him, and it is so with all the others
except those who are overbearing and are not friendly toward
him, because he does not allow them to indulge their oppres-
sion. Every time any one of them raises his hand over a little
fellow the little fellow cries: ‘‘ Garrone!’ and the big boy
does not strike him any more. His father is an engineer on



THE HEART OF A BOY ; 29

the railroad. He commienced late to go to school because he
was ill for two years. He is the tallest and strongest of the
class; he can raise a bench with one hand. He eats all the
time. He is good; one may ask anything of him, chalk,
rubber, paper, or pen-knife ; he lends or gives everything away,
and he never whispers or laughs in school. He keeps quiet on
his bench,—which is rather narrow for him,—with his back
bent and his head bowed. When I look at him, he smiles with
his eyes half closed as though he would say: ‘‘ Well, Enrico,
are we friends?’’ But he makes me laugh. ‘Tall and big as
he is, he wears a jacket, trousers, sleeves, everything too small
for him; a hat that will hardly set on his head, thick shoes, a
cravat tied like a string around his neck, and he has his hair
clipped. Poor Garrone, to look into his face is to like him.
All the little ones like to sit near him. He knows his arith-
metic well. He carries his books in a pile bound with a strap of
red leather. He hasa knife with mother-of-pearl handle which
he found last year in the field for military manceuvring, and
once he cut his finger to the bone with it ; but no one at school
knew it and he said nothing at home for fear he might frighten
his parents. He takes with good naturé anything told him in
jest and he is never offended; but woe to the one who tells him:
“Ttisn’t true!’? When he affirms a thing, fire flashes from
his eyes, and he hammers upon the desk with his fist hard
enough to split it. Saturday morning, he gave a soldo toa boy
of the first upper, who was in the street, because some one had
stolen the boy’s soldo and he could not buy himself a copy-book.
Garrone has been working for three days, making a pen orna-
mentation around an eight-page letter for the ‘‘Saint’s Day”
of his mother, who often comes to take him home, and who is
tall and stout like him, and looks rather pleasant. ‘The teacher
always notices Garrone and every time he comes by him puts
his hand on hishead. Iam very fond of him. Iam sure,that
he would risk his life to save a companion, that he would allow
himself to be killed in order to defend him; one can see



30 THE HEART OF A BOY

this so clearly in his eyes ; and, although it seems as though he
always grumbles with his. big voice, it is unquestionably a voice
which comes from a kindly heart.



THE CHARCOAL MAN AND THE GENTLEMAN
Monday the 7th.

Garrorie would never have said what Carlo Nobis said yes-
terday morning to Betti. Carlo Nobis is vain because his
‘father is a grand signor, a tall gentleman who always wears a
full black beard, very serious looking, and who comes nearly
every day to accompany his son. Yesterday morning, Nobis
-quarreled with Betti, one of the smallest boys, the son of a
-charcoal man; and not knowing how to answer him, because
‘he was in the wrong, he said to him in a loud voice: ‘‘ Your
father is a worthless ragged man.’’ Betti grew red to the
roots of his hair and said nothing, but tears came to hiseyes,
and when he went home he repeated those words to his. father;
and, behold, the charcoal man, a little fellow, all black, ap-
peared at the school in the afternoon with the lad, in order to
make his complaint to the teacher. While he was telling his
grievance to the master, every one was quiet. The father of
Nobis, who was taking off his son’s overcoat on the threshold
of the door, as he usually does, hearing his name pronounced,
entered and asked an explanation. The master answered:
“It is this workman who comes here to complain because your
son Carlo said to his boy ‘ Your father is a worthless ragged
man.’ ”’

Nobis’ father frowned and blushed a little and then asked
his son, ‘‘ Did you say those words?’’ Carlostanding in front
of little Betti in the middle of the school room, with drooping
head, did not answer.

-Then his father took him by the arm and pushed him further
ahead, beside Betti, so that the two almost touched each other,
and said: ‘‘ Beg his pardon.”



THE HEART OF A BOY 81

The charcoal man tried to interfere, saying ‘‘ No, no,” but
_ the gentleman paid no heed, and repeated to his son, “ Beg his
pardon. ,

oy Repeat my words: ‘I beg to apologize for the insulting,
senseless and ignoble -words which I said against your father,
whose hand my father feels honored to grasp.”

‘The charcoal man made a gesture as if he would say, “I
will not,’’ but the gentleman paid no heed, and his son said
slowly, with a tremor in his voice, without raising his eyes
from the floor: ‘‘I beg to apologize for the insulting:
senseless——and ignoble words which I said against your
father, whose hand my father feels himself honored to grasp.”

Then the gentleman reached his hand to the charcoal mati,
who grasped it with force; and then suddenly pushed his son
into the arms of Carl Nobis. ;

‘““Do me the favor to put them next to each other,’’ said
the gentleman to the teacher. The teacher placed Betti
in Nobis’ bench, and when he saw them in their places, the
father of Nobis made a bow and left.

The charcoal man remained a few moments, standing there
in thought, looking at both boys; then he approached the
bench, looked at Nobis with an expression of affection and re-
gard, as if he wished to say something, but said nothing. He
stretched out his hand as if to give him a caress, but dared
not, and only stroked his brow with his large hand, then
started for the door, turning once more to look at him, and
departed.

‘““Remember well what you have seen, boys,’’ said the
teacher; ‘‘ this is the finest lesson of the year.’’







MY BROTHER’S SCHOOL MISTRESS
Thursday the roth

The son of the charcoal man was a pupil of Mistress Delcati.
who camé to-day to see my sick brother. She made us laugh by.



32 THE HEART OF A BOY

telling that the mother of that boy two years ago brought to her
home an armful of charcoal, to thank her because she had given
a medal to her son. The poor woman persisted in leaving it
and almost cried when she had to return home with her apron
full. ‘the mistress also told of another good woman, who
brought her a very large bouquet of flowers inside of which
there was a quantity of soldi. She amused us a great deal by
telling us stories, and my brother took his medicine which be-
fore he did not want to swallow. How much patience they
must have with those boys of the first grade, all without
teeth like the old men, who cannot pronounce either the r’s or
the s’s. One coughs, another has the nose bleed, and another
loses his shoes under the bench. ‘This one cries, because he
has pricked himself with a pen, and that one weeps, because
he has bought copy-book number two instead of number one.
. Fifty all in one class, who know nothing, with those little hands
like butter, who have to be taught to read and writé! They
carry in their pockets pieces of licorice, sugar, buttons, brick
dust, every kind of small articles, and the teacher is obliged
to go through their pockets, but they hide these things even
inside their shoes. They pay no attention; if a fly enters
through the window, it puts them all in confusion. In sum-
mer, they carry horn-bugs to school, which fly around and fall
into the ink-stands and stain the copy-books. with ink. The
mistress, who plays the part of mother toward them, must help
them to dress, bandage the fingers that are pricked, pick up
the caps that fall, take heed that they do not exchange their
. coats, or else they indulge in cat-calls and shrieks. Poor
school mistress, and besides some of the mothers will go and
complain: ‘‘ How is it, madam, that my child has lost his
pen?’ “How is it that mine does not learn anything?’
‘Why don’t you give the prize to my boy, who knows so
much?’’? ‘‘ Why don’t you have the nail which has torn the
trousers of my Piero taken out of the bench ?’’

At times, my brother’s mistress gets angry at the boys, and



THE HEART OF A BOY 33

when she can endure it no longer, she bites her finger in order
not to give a blow. She loses her patience and then she
repents, caresses the child who has been scolded, sends the
little rogue out of the school, and then stops her own tears.
She gets angry with the parents, who, in order to punish their
children, compel them to fast. Mistress Delcati is young and
tall, has a dark complexion, and dresses well. She is so restless
and nervous that she is affected by a mere trifle. She speaks
with a great deal of tenderness.

“But at least the children are attached to you?’ my
mother asked. ‘‘Some are,’’ she answered, ‘‘ but when the
year is over, the greater part do not look at me any more.
When they are with the male teachers they are ashamed to
have been with a school mistress. After two years of cares,
after we have loved a child so much, it issad to be separated
from him; we say: ‘ Oh, I am sure of that one, he will love me. '
But, the vacation over, we return to school, we run to meet
him: ‘Oh, my child, my child!’ and he turns his head the
other way.”? At this point, the mistress was interrupted.
‘But you-will not do this, little fellow?” she said ; then arose
with her eyes full of tears and kissed my brother, ‘‘ You will
» not turn your head the other way, will you? You will not -
deny your poor old friend?’

MY MOTHER

Ln the presence of thy brother's preceptress thou hast failed to
respect thy mother! Let thisnot happen again, my Enrico, never,
never again! Thy irreverent words entered my heart like a steel
blade. I was thinking of thy mother when, years ago, she stood
a whole night bent over thy little bed to watch for thy breath, cry-
ing with anguish, and shutting her teeth ti terror because she
thought she was going. to lose thee, and I was afraid she would
lose her mind; and I felt a sense of veproof for thee. Thou hast
offended thy mother! Thy mother, who would give a year of



34 THE HEART OF A BOY

happiness to spare thee an hour of sorrow, who would ask alms
for thee, who would allow herself to be killed to save thy life!
Listen, Enrico, fix this thought well in thy mind. Rememoer that
destiny has many troubles in store for thee. The greatest trouble
will come the day when thou wilt lose thy mother. A thousand
times, Enrico, when thou wilt be a man, strong, and hardened by
all the struggles of life, thou wilt be oppressed by a great desire to



hear again for one moment thy mother’s voice, to see again her
open arms ready to receive thee sobbing like a poor child without
protection and without comfort. Then thou wilt remember all
the bitterness thou hast caused her, and with what remorse wilt
thou pay for all, thou unhappy creature! Do not hope fer any
serentty tn thy life, if thou hast saddened thy mother. Thou wilt
repent, thou wilt ask her pardon, thou wilt venerate her memory,
all in vain, thy conscience will not grant thee peace. The sweetand
good image will always have for thee an expression of sadness and



THE HEART OF A BOY 35

reproach which will torture thy soul. Oh, Enrico, beware! This
zs the most sacred of human affections; woe to him who tramples
upon it! The assassin who respects his mother has still something
honest and chivalrous in his heart. The most famous of men
of he sadden and offend her ts a vile wretch. Nevermore let a
harsh word proceed from thy mouth for the one who gave thee
life. And, of another such word should escape thee, let it not be
the fear of thy father but the impulse of thy soul which will throw
thee at her feet to supplicate her, that with a kiss of forgiveness
she may erase from thy forehead the stain of ingratitude. TI love
thee, my son; thou art the dearest hope of my life; but I would
vather see thee dead than ungrateful to thy mother. Go, and for
a litile time do not offer me any of thy caresses. I could not ex-
_ change them in my heart. Thy Father.

MY COMPANION CORETTI
Sunday the 13th.

My father has forgiven me, but still I remain somewhat
sad. My mother sent me to take a walk through the Corso,
with the janitor’s. oldest son. Half way through, passing
near a truck standing before a shop, somebody called me. I
turned around; it was Coretti, my schoolmate, ali in a perspira-
tion, with his chocolate colored knitted jacket and. his catskin
cap, but merry, and carrying a load of wood on his shoulders.
A man standing on the truck handed him an armful of wood
at a time, which he would take and carry into his father’s
shop, where he would pile it up in a great hurry.

‘“What are you doing, Coretti?” I asked.

‘“Don’t you see?’’ he answered, holding out his arms to

take the wood. ‘‘I go over my lesson.”
I laughed, but he was speaking in earnest, and, having
taken his armful of wood, began saying while running: ‘‘ The

conjugation of the verb consists in its variations, agreeing in num-
ber——and person oa





36 THE HEART OF A BOY

And then throwing down the wood and piling it up: ‘Ac
cording to the time according to the time to which the action





refers 3
It was our grammar lesson for the next day. ‘‘ What
would you have me do?’’ hesaid. ‘‘ I make the most of my

time. My father has gone away on account of his business.
My mother is ill. I have to unload the wood. In the mean-
while I go over my grammar; it is a difficult lesson to-day. I
do not succeed in hammering it into my head. My father will
be here at seven to give you the soldi,’’ he then said to the
the truckman.

The truck moved away... ‘‘Go into the shop for a mo-
ment,’’? said Coretti. I entered. It was a large room full of
piles of wood and fagots, with a school desk on one side.

‘To-day is a day of rush, I assure you,” said Coretti., ‘‘I
have to do my work by fits and starts. I was writing about
the prepositions, and some one came to buy. I started to
write again, and the truck came. I have already taken two
trips to the wood market in the Piazza Venezia this morning.
Tam so tired I can hardly stand on my feet and my hands are
all swollen; I would be in a fine fix, indeed, if I had to do my
drawing task.’? As he spoke he began sweeping up the
dry leaves and little sticks which had fallen on the brick pave-
ment.

“But where do you do your work?” I asked Coretti.
‘Surely not here? ”’

““Come and see,’’ and he took me into a little room behind
the shop, which was used as a kitchen and dining room, with
a table in the corner where he had all his books and writing
material and the beginning of his lesson. ‘‘ By the way,” he
said, ‘‘I have left out the second answer: ‘ With leather one
makes shoes, belts,’ now I have it ‘valises.’ And tak-
ing his pen, he started to write in his beautiful hand-writing.

‘“Ts any one here?’’ some one cried at that moment from
the shop. It was a woman who came to buy some fagots.









fi was Coretti carrying a load of wood.



THE HEART OF A BOY 37

“* Here I am,’’ answered Coretti, and sprang from his place
to weigh the fagots. He took the soldi, ran into the corner to
register the sale in a copy-book, and returned to his work, say-
ing: ‘‘ Let’s see if I can finish this paragraph,” and he wrote:
“ Traveling bags and knapsacks for soldiers.” “‘Ah,”’ he said,
‘““My poor coffee is boiling over,” and he ran to the stove ta
take the coffee-pot from the fire. ‘It is the coffee for mamma,”
said he. ‘‘I had to learn to make coffee. Wait a moment,
and we will take it to her, so that she may see you; it will
give her pleasure. She has been sick in bed for seven days
Confound it! I always scald my fingers with that coffee pot.
What can I add after ‘knapsacks for soldiers?’ I must add
something more, and I cannot think of it. Come to mamma.”

He opened the door and we entered the room. ‘There was
the mother of Coretti in a large bed, with a white handkerchief
tied around her head.

“‘ Here is the coffee, mamma,” said Coretti, handing her
the cup. ‘‘ This is my schoolmate.”

‘Oh, what a fine signorino,’’ said the woman, ‘‘ you have
come to see the sick, isn’t it so?”

In the meantime, Coretti had fixed the pillows behind his
mother’s shoulders, and had put up the blankets of the bed, and
brightened the fire, and driven the cat away from the bureau
drawers.

“Is there anything more you wish, mamma?” he asked,
and took away the cup. ‘‘Did you take the two spoonfuls ot
syrup? When it is gone, I will go to the apothecary for
more. ‘The wood has been unloaded. At four o’clock I will
put the meat on the fire, as you have told me. When the but-
ter woman goes by, I will give her the eight soldi. Everything
will go well, do not fear.”

‘“Thanks, my son,” answered thewoman. “ My poor son!
he thinks of everything.”

She asked me to take a piece of sugar, and then Corretti
showed me a little picture, a photograph of his father dressed





38 THE HEART OF A BOY

like a soldier with the medal of valor that he had won in the
battle of ’66, in the army of Prince Humbert. His son looks
like him, with those lively eyes and that merry smile.
‘*T have found another,” said Coretti, and he added in his
- copy-book, ‘‘ One can make harnesses.’’ ‘‘'The balance I will
do this evening; I will sit up late. How happy you are to
have all your time to study; and then you can go promenading
besides.’’

He is always jolly. Re-entering the shop, he began to chop
wood upon a horse and sawed it in halves, saying: ‘‘ It is like
gymnastics, quite different from the ‘ Throw your arms for-
ward.’ J want my father to find all this wood sawed when he
returns and then he will be satisfied. ‘The worst of it is that
after I have sawed the wood, I make some t’s and 1’s which
‘look like serpents’ as the teacher says;but what else can I do?
I will tell him that I had to move my arms about. What I
most care for is that mamma may soon get well. Now she is
better, thank heaven! I shall study the grammar tomorrow
morning when the cock crows. Oh, here comes the wagon with
the logs. At work again!’? —

A wagon loaded with logs stopped in front of the shop.
Coretti ran out to speak to the man and then came back.
‘“Now, my comrade, I cannot keep you any longer; farewell
until tomorrow. You did well to come and see me. Pleasant
walk to you, you lucky fellow!’

He shook my hand and ran to take the first log and began
running between the wagon and the shop, with his face as fresh
as a rose under that cat-skin cap, and so bright that it was a
pleasure to look at him.

“Lucky fellow!’’ he said tome. Oh, good Coretti, no, it
is you who are fortunate; you, because you study and work
more than Ido, because you are more useful to your father

-and mother, because you are better than myself, a hundred
times better, and more brave than I am, my dear schoolmate.







That boy resembled perfectly his own lost son.



THE HEART OF A BOY 39

THE PRINCIPAL OF THE SCHOOL
friday the 8th,

Coretti was happy this morning because his master of the
second elementary came to assist with the work of the monthly
examination; Coatti is his name, a big man with thick crisp
hair, a black beard, black eyes, and a voice that thunders. He
always threatens to take the boys by the neck to the police
station, and makes all sorts of frightful faces, but he never
punishes any one; on the contrary, he always laughs in his
sleeve. With Coatti, there are eight more masters, including
a substitute, a little fellow who looks like a youth. There isa
master of the fourth class, who is muffled up in a large woolen
scarf, and is always complaining about his pains.. He took this
illness when he was master in a country school where the walls
were very damp. Another master of the fourth class is an old
man with white hair and beard, who has been a teacher of the
blind. ‘There is one who is always well dressed, with eye-
glasses and blonde mustache; he is called ‘‘ The Little Lawyer,”’
because while he was teaching he took a lawyer’s diploma,
and also got up a book to teach how to read and write. The
one who teaches us gymnastics is like a soldier. He has been
with Garibaldi and has on his neck the scar of a sabre wound
that he got at the battle of Milazzo. ‘Then comes the principal;
tall, bald headed, with a grey beard which comes down over
his chest. He has golden eye-glasses, and is all dressed in
black and buttoned up to the chin ; he is always so good to the
boys. When they enter his office trembling, having been sent
there for reproof, he does not scold them but takes them by the
hand and gives so many good reasons why they should not
have done what they did, why they must repent and promise
to be good, and he speaks in such a kind manner and with such
a sweet voice that they all leave him with red eyes; they are
more confused than if they had been punished. Poor principal,
he is always the first one at his place in the morning ; he waits





40 THE HEART OF A BOY

for the teachers and listens to the parents, and when the teachers
have started home, he keeps on the lookout to see that none of
the children fall under the carriages, and that they do not stop
in the street to play or to fill their satchels with sand and stones,
and every time he appears at the corner of a street, tall and
dark as he is, a crowd of boys scamper in all directions, stopping
suddenly the games with marbles and pens, and he threatens
with his index finger at a distance with a loving and sad air. ‘‘No
one has ever seen him laugh,’’ says my mother, ‘‘ since his son
died.’? ‘The son was a volunteer in the army, and the principal
always keeps his portrait before him upon the desk in his room.
He wanted to leave the school after his son’s death, and he
wrote his resignation to the municipality and kept it constantly
on his desk, waiting from day to day to send it, because he was
sorry to leave the children. ‘The other day, he seemed to be
decided, and my father, who was with him in the directors’
room, was saying to him: ‘‘ Whata pity that you go, signor
principal,’? when a man entered to have a boy enrolled, who
was coming from another school to ours because his parents had
moved. When he looked at that boy, the principal seemed
surprised. He looked at him for a moment and then at the
portrait which he keeps on his desk and then at the boy again,
and, drawing him between his knees, he made him raise his
face. ‘hat boy resembled perfectly his own lost son. ‘The
principal said ‘‘ All right,’’ wrote the name, and the father left.
He remained pensive. ‘‘ Whata pity that you should go,”’
repeated my father. The principal took his resignation, tore it
to pieces, and said: ‘‘I shall remain!”

THE SOLDIERS
Tuesday the 22a.

- His son was a volunteer in the army when he died, and
this is the reason the principal always goes to the Corso to see
the soldiers pass. When we cate out of school yesterday, an



THE HEART OF A BOY 41

infantry regiment was passing, and fifty boys began to jump
around the band, singing and keeping time with their rulers
on their satchels and portfolios. We stood in a group on the
sidewalk, looking; Garrone, squeezed in clothes too small for
him, and biting a large loaf of bread;
Votini, the well dressed one, who is -
always picking the hair from his
clothes; Precossi, the son of the black-
smith, wearing his father’s jacket; the
Calabrian boy; ‘‘the Little Mason”;
Crossi, with his red hair; Franti, with
his tough face, and Robetti, the son of
an artillery captain, the one who saved
the boy from the omnibus and who
now walks on crutches. Franti
laughed in the face of a soldier who
was limping. Suddenly he felt a
man’s hand on his shoulder. He
turned around; it was the principal.
‘Look here” said the principal; ‘‘to
jest at a soldier when he is in the
ranks and can neither revenge him-
self nor auswer is like insulting a man
when he is bound up; it is acowardly act.”

Franti disappeared. The soldiers were passing four by
four, perspitring and covered with dust, and their guns were
gleaming in the sun. ‘‘ You must always wish well to the
soldiers, boys,’’ said the principal. ‘‘’They are our defenders;
they would die for us, if to-morrow a foreign army should
threaten our country. ‘They are also boys—a few years older
than you are, and they also go to school, and there are among
them poor and rich people, as among yourselves. They come
from all parts of Italy. Look at them; one can almost recog-
nize them from their faces: the Sicilians, the Sardinians, the
Neapolitans, the Lombards. This is an old regiment, one of







42 THE HEART OF A BOY

those which fought in 1848. The soldiers are no longer the
same, but the flag is. How many died for our country around
that flag twenty years before you were born !”’ ;

‘* Here it comes,’’ said Garrone. And, in fact, one could
see at a little distance the flag which came first above the
heads of the soldiers.: The principal said: ‘‘ Boys, make the
pupil’s salute with the hand to the forehead when the tricolor
passes.”’

The flag, carried by an officer, passed in front of us; it was
all torn and faded, but there were medals hanging on the
staff. We put our hands to our foreheads all together. The
officer looked at us, smiled. and returned the salute with his
hand.

“Good, boys!’’ said a man behind us. We turned to look
and saw an old man who had in the buttonhole of his coat the
blue ribbon of the Crimean campaign; a pensioned officer.
‘* Bravo!’’ he said; ‘‘ you have done a noble act,’’

In the meanwhile, the band turned at the end of the Corso,
surrounded by a crowd of boys, and a hundred merry shouts
accompanied the blast of the trumpets like a war cry.
‘*Bravo!’’ repeated the old officer. ‘‘ He who respects the
flag when he is small, will know how to defend it when he is
grown up.’’

THE PROTECTOR OF NELLI
Wednesday the 23rd.

Poor Nelli was also looking at the soldiers yesterday—poor
little hunchback—with a look as though he were saying: ‘‘I
shall never be asoldier!’’ He is good and studious, but he is
thin and sickly looking and breathes with a good deal of diffi-
culty. He wears a long black shining linen apron. His mother
. is a little blonde lady, dressed in black. She always calls for
him when the school is over; as, in the confusion, he would not
go out with the other boys, and she caresseshim. ‘The first









The band... surrounded by a crowd of boys.



THE HEART OF A BOY 43

days of school, as he has the misfortune to be hunchbacked,
many of the boys laughed at him and beat him upon the back
with their satchels; but he never turned around, and said noth-
ing to his mother about it, because he did not wish to cause
her the pain of knowing that her son was the laughing
stock of his companions. When they derided him, he would
cry silently, leaning his forehead on the desk.

But this morning, Garrone sprang up and said: ‘‘If any
one touches Nelli, I will give him such a blow that he will spin
three times around.”

Franti paid no attention, and he received a blow which made
him reel. Since that time no one has touched Nelli. ‘The
teacher placed Garrone near him, upon the same bench, and
they have become fast friends. Nelli is very much devoted to
Garrone; as soon as he enters the school room, he looks where
Garrone sits, and he never goes away without saying: ‘‘ Good
bye, Garrone,’’ and Garrone does the same with him. When
Nelli drops his pen or book under the bench, Garrone at once
bends down and hands it to him. He also helps him to put
his things in the satchel and to put on his overcoat. Because
of this, Nelli likes him and looks at him constantly, and when
the master praises Garrone, Nelli is happy

Nelli must at last have told his mother everything about
the ridicule which he suffered those first days, and also about
the companion who took his part and of whom he h:s grown
fond. Hereis what happened this morning. The teacher
sent me to take the programme of the lesson to the principal
half an hour before the time for school to close, and I was in
the office when a blonde lady, dressed in black, entered. It
was Nelli’s mother, and she said: ‘‘ Signor principal, is there
a boy in my son’s class by the name of Garrone?’’

“There is,’? answered the principal.

“Will you have the kindness to send for him for a mo-
ment, as I wish to speak to him?’’

‘The principal called the beadle and sent him into the class;



44 . THE HEART OF A BOY

and, after a minute, Garrone, with his thick, crisp hair, ap-
peared at the door, looking as though he were amazed. As
soon as she saw him, the lady went to meet him, threw her




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hands on his shoulders and kissed him many times on the fore-
head, saying: ‘‘ You are Garrone, the friend of my child, the
protector of my dear son; it is you, dear boy, it is you!”
Then she searched hastily in her purse and inher pockets, and,
not finding anything, she detached a chain with a little cross,
from her neck, and said: ‘‘Take it, wear it as a memento,
dear boy, in memory of Nelli’s mother who thanks you and
embraces you.”’ ;

—_—-

THE FIRST OF THE CLASS

Garrone has won the affection of every one and Derossi the
admiration. Derossi: has won the first medal and will always



THE HEART OF A BOY , 45

be the first: ‘This year there is no one who is able to compete
with him. The boys all recognize his superiority in all the dif
ferent branches. He is the first in arithmetic, in grammar, in
composition, and in drawing. He understands everything at
a glance; has a marvelous memory; succeeds in everything
without making any effort. It seems as though study were
mere play for him. The teacher told him yesterday: ‘‘God
has endowed you very generously; you must not waste what
has been bestowed upon you.’’ Besides all this, he is the tallest
and handsomest boy of the class, with a large crown of blonde
curls. He isso nimble that he can jump over the bench by
laying one hand upon it, and he knows how to fence. He is
the son of a merchant, and always dresses in blue clothes with
gilt buttons on them. He is twelve years old, always jolly,
and he is polite to every one, arid tries to help all the other
boys at the time of examination, and no one has ever dared to
play a trick upon him or call hima bad name. Only Nobis
and Franti look at him askance. . Votini looks at him with
envy, but he does not even notice it. They all smile at him
and take him by the hand when he comes around in his grace-
ful way. He gives away illustrated newspapers and drawings
—everything which they give him at home. He has drawn
a geographical map of Calabria for the little Calabrian boy.
He is like a grand signor and shows no favoritism.
It is impossible not to envy him and not to feel beneath
-him in everything. I envy him myself, like Votini. I expe-
rience a certain bitterness and spitefulness against him, some-
times when I am striving to do my work at home, and think
at that hour he has already done his correctly and without
fatigue. But then, when I return to school and see him so
handsome, smiling, and triumphant, and hear him answer all
the questions put to him, in a frank, assured way, and see how
polite he is to every one, and how all look at him, then all the
bitterness, all the spite goes out of my heart, and I feel
ashamed of having felt such emotions. I would like to be near



46 THE HEART OF A BOY

him always; I would like to go through all the classes with
him; his presence, his voice gives me courage, and I feel a
desire to work.

The teacher has given him the monthly story to copy,
which will be read to-morrow. Itis “The Little Vidette of
Lombardy.’? When he was copying it this morning he seemed
moved by that heroic deed. His face was all aflame, his eyes
were full of tears, and his mouth trembled. I was watching
him; how handsome and noble he looked? With what pleas-
ure would I have told him frankly to his face: ‘‘ Derossi, you
have worked more than I have. You are a man compared
to me, and I respect and admire you.”



THE LITTLE VIDETTE OF LOMDARDY
(MONTHLY STORY)

Saturday the 26th.







for the liberation of Lombardy—a
8 few days before the battle of Solfe-
rino and San Martino, won by the
French and the Italians, united
against the Austrians—on a beauti-
ful morning in the month of June a
“ little troop of cavalry of Saluzzo was moving slowly through a
solitary path, toward the enemy, reconnoitering the country as





THE HEART OF A BOY 47

they went. The troop was commanded by an officer and a
sergeant, and all spied into the distance before them with eager
eyes, silent, expecting every moment to see the white uniforms
of the advance post of the enemy shimmering through the trees.
‘They caine to a hut surrounded by ash trees, in front of which
was a boy about twelve years old, standing alone, removing
the bark from a small branch with a knife. From the window
of the house floated a large tricolored flag, but no one was
inside. Having hoisted the flag, all had run away, fearing
the Austrians. As soon as the boy saw the cavalrymen, he
threw away his stick and took off his hat. He was a fine-
looking lad with a brave face, large blue eyes, and long blonde
hair. He was in his shirt sleeves and his shirt was unfastened,
showing his bare chest. ied

‘‘ What are you doing here?’’ asked the officer, stopping
his horse. ‘‘ Why did you not run away with your family ?’”’

‘‘T have no family,’ answered the boy. ‘‘I am a found-
ling. I work a little for every one, and I remained here to
see the war.”

‘‘ Have you seen the Austrians pass?’”’

‘* Not for the last three days.”

The officer sat thinking a moment, then dismounted from
his horse; and, leaving the soldiers turned toward the foe, he
entered the house and went up on the roof ‘The house was
low and from the roof only a little stretch of the country could
be seen. ‘‘It is necessary to climb the trees,’’ said the officer,
and came down. Justin front of the yard there was a lofty,
slender ash tree, which was rocking its top in the sky. The
officer stood lost in thought for a moment, looking now at the
tree, now at the soldiers; then, all of a sudden, he asked the
boy:

‘‘ Have you good eyesight, you rag-a-muffin ?”’

‘©T?” answered the boy. ‘‘ I can see a sparrow a mile dis-
tant.”

‘‘Can you climb to the top of that tree?’”’





48 "THER HEART OF A BOY

‘‘T can do that in a minute.”

‘« And could you tell me what you see down below from the
top, whether there are any Austrian soldiers, clouds of dust,
guns glimmering, or any horses on that side?”’

‘Surely, I could.”’ :

‘‘What do you want me to pay you for this service ?”’

‘What do I want?’ said the boy smiling; ‘‘ nothing, of
course——TIf the Austrians asked me, I would not do it at all
but, for our own people J am a Lombard!’

“Well, then, climb up.’’

‘Wait just a moment for me to take off my shoes.”’

He took off his shoes, tightened the strap around his trous-
ers, threw his hat on the grass, and clasped the trunk of the
ash tree.

‘But, look-out!’’ exclaimed the officer, making a gesture
as if to hold him back, as though seized with a sudden fear.
The boy turned around to look at him with his fine blue eyes,
as if to question him.

‘¢ Never mind,’’ said the officer; “‘ go up.’’

The boy went up like a cat. ‘‘ Look in front of you!” cried
the officer to the soldiers.

In a few moments, the boy was at the top of the tree, with
his legs around the trunk among the leaves, but with his breast ~
uncovered, and the sun shining on his blonde head made it look
like gold. The officer could hardly see him, he looked so small
from the ground.

‘‘Look straight in the distance,’’ cried the officer.

The boy, in order to see better, took his right hand from the
tree and put it over his forehead.

‘‘ What do you see?’’ asked the officer.

The boy bent his head toward him, and, making a speaking
tube of his hand, answered: ‘‘’I‘wo men on horseback on the
white road.”

“What distance from here ?”’

“ Half a.mile.”’







THE HEART OF A BOY 49

“Do they move?’”’
‘* They are standing still.’’
' “ What else do you see,’’ after a moment’s silence, ‘‘ Look
to your right.’’
Then he said: ‘‘ Among the trees near the cemetery, there
is something which glitters like bayonets.’’
‘“Do you see any people?”’
‘* No, they must be hidden under the wheat.’’ -
At that moment, the sharp whiz of a bullet passed high
through the air and died away, far off, behind the house.
‘‘Come down, boy,” cried the officer, ‘‘ They have seen

you. Ido not want anything more, come down.’’

‘‘T am not afraid,’’ answered the boy.

‘* Come down,” repeated the officer. ‘‘ What else do you see
at your left?”’

‘* At the left? ”’

‘Ves, at the Ieft.’’

The boy pushed his head to the left, and another whiz,
sharper and lower than the first, cut through theair. The boy
shook all over, ‘‘ Confound them!’’ he exclaimed. ‘‘ They
are aiming at me.” ‘The bullet*had passed very near him.

‘‘Down!’’ cried the officer in an imperious and irritated
way.

‘*T will come down directly. The tree, however, will pro-
tect me, do not fear. To the left, you wish to know what I
can see ?”’

‘To the left,’’ answered the officer ; ‘‘ but, come down.”

‘To the left,” said the boy, turning his head that way,
‘‘ Where there is a chapel, it seems as though I can see

A third raging whiz was heard and almost at the same time,
the boy was seen coming down, holding for a moment to the
trunk and to the branches, and then falling down, head first,
with open arms.

‘*Curse them !’’ cried the officer, running to him.

The boy struck the ground with his back and lay there





50 THE HEART OF A BOY

stretched out with his arms open ; a stream of blood was flow-
ing from his left side. The sergeant and two soldiers jumped
from their horses; the officer bent down and opened his shirt :
the bullet had entered hisleftlung. ‘‘ He is dead !’’ exclaimed
the officer. ‘‘No, he lives,’’ answered the sergeant. “ Our
poor, brave boy,” cried the officer. “Courage! Courage !”’
But while he was saying this and pressing his handkerchief
over the wound, the boy rolled his eyes wearily, and let his
hand fall back. He was dead. ‘The officer turned pale and.
looked at him fixedly for a moment, then laid him with his
head on the grass; and, for a while, he remained looking at
him. Also the sergeant and the two soldiers stood motionless
and gazed at him; the others were turned toward the enemy.
“Poor boy,’’ sadly repeated the officer, ‘‘ Poor and brave
boy.”’

Then he approached the house and took from the window
the tri-colored flag and stretched it out like a funeral pall
over his body, leaving the head uncovered. The sergeant
picked up the boy’s shoes, cap, the little stick, and the
knife.

They stood in silence for a moment, then the officer turned
to the sergeant and said: ‘‘ We will send the ambulance for
him. He died like a soldier, and we will bury him like a sol-
dier.”’ Having said this, he threw a kiss to the dead, and
cried, ‘‘To horse.’”? They all jumped to their saddles, the
troop formed again and followed up its route; but afew hours
later the little dead boy did receive the honors of war.

Towards sunset all the lines of the Italian advance post were
marching toward the enemy over the same toad which had
been taken in the morning by the troop of cavalry. The large
battalion of bersaglieri, which a few days before had valiantly
stained with blood the Hill of San Martino, proceeded in two

files. The news of the death of the boy had spread through
the army before the soldiers had left their encampment. A
stream ran along beside the path a few paces distant from the

















































































































































And he slept there tn the grass.



THE HEART OF A BOY 51

house. When the first officers of the battalion saw the little
corpse, stretched at the foot of the ash tree and covered with
the tri-colored flag, they saluted him with the sword, and one
of them bent over the edge of the stream, which was bordered
with flowers, plucked two flowers and threw them over him.
‘Then all the battalion, as they were passing, picked flowers
and threw them over the dead. In a few moments the boy was
covered with flowers, and officers and soldiers all gave him a

salute as they.passed by. ‘‘Bravo, little Lombard!’ ‘‘Good-
bye, boy!’’ ‘‘Honor to you, little blonde!’’ ‘‘ Hurrah!’
‘*Glory!’’ ‘‘Goodbye!’’ One officer threw a medal of valor on

him; another went to kiss his forehead: the flowers continued
to shower upon his bare feet, upon his wounded chest, and upon
the blonde head. And he slept there in the grass, wrapped in
his flag, with a white but almost smiling face, poor boy, as if he
felt the honors paid him, as though he were content to have
given. his life for his Lombardy.

aero

THE POOR
Tuesday the 27th

To give one’s life for his own country like the boy of Lom-
bardy ts a great virtue, but do not forget the smaller virtues, my
child. When we returned from school this morning, while thou
wert walking in front of me, we passed a poor old woman who
held a frail and sickly baby on her knees, and who asked alms of
thee. Thou didst look at her, but didst not give her anything,
although thou hadst some soldi in thy, pocket. Listen, my child,
do not accustom thyself to pass indifferently in front of misery
which stretches out tts hands to thee, and much the less before a
mother who asks a penny for her baby. Think that maybe the
baby was hungry; think of the heartache of that poor woman.
Can you imagine the despairing sobs of thy mother the day that she
might have to tell thee: ‘‘Enrico, today I can give thee no bread.”
When I give a soldo to a mendicant and he says tome: ‘“ May



52 THE HEART OF A BOY

the Lovd preserve thee and all thy creatures!” thou canst not com.
prehend the gratitude that I feel toward that poor man. Tt seems
to me, indeed, that that wish ought to preserve me in good health
for a long time, and f return home content and think: ‘* Ah,
i. that poor man has paid me back
ames more than I have given him!”
Let me feel that sometimes such
a good wish ts provoked and mer-
tled by thee; take from time to
time a soldo from thy purse and
let it drop into the hand of an old
man without support. Give to
the mother without bread and to
N the baby without a mother. The
77 poor love alms Srom children be-
4 cause tt does not humiliate them
, to receive them, and because
children, needing everything,
resemble them. Notice that there
’ are always many poor around
the schools. The alms of aman
zs a deed of charity, but that of a
child is both a deed of charity and acaress. Dost thou understand
ine? Itisasif from his hand fell a soldo and a flower. Think
that thou lackest nothing and that they lack everything! that,
while thou art wishing to be happy, they are satisfied not to die.
Think that it ts horrible that in so many places on the streets,
where carriages and children dressed tn velvet are passing, there
should be women who have not enough to eat! Not to have any-
thing to eat, oh my God! That boys like thee, intelligent as thou
art, good as thou art, in the midst of a large city, like wild ant-
nials lost in the desert, should have nothing to eat! No, never,
nevermore, Enrico, pass in front of a mother who asks alms
‘without putting a soldo in her hand.




Thy Mother.



THE HEART OF A BOY 53

DECEMBER

THE TRADING BOY
Thursday the rst.

My father wishes that on every vacation day I should either
invite one of my schoolmates to come to our house or call upon
one of them, in order to become little by little friendly with
all. On Sunday, Iam going to walk with Votini, the well
dressed, one who is always brushing his clothes and is so envious
of Derossi. ‘Today, Garoffi came to the house. He is the tall,
slender fellow with a nose like an owl’s beak and shrewd eyes,
who always seems to scrutinize everything. Heis the son of
a druggist, and quite an original character. He is always
counting the soldi in his pocket; he counts them on his fingers
quickly, and can make any multiplication without an arith-
metical table. He saves money even now, and has a book in
the School Savings Bank. Henever spends a soldo; and, if he
drops a centesimo under the bench he is likely to look a week
forit. ‘He is like a night owl,’’ says Derossi. He finds old
pens, old postage stamps, pins and old wax matches. Every-
thing he picks up he saves. He has been collecting postage
stamps for more than two years, and has hundreds from every
country, pasted in a large album, which he will sell to the sta-
tioner when it is full. In the meantime, the stationer gives
him books, because he takes so many boys into his shop. At
school, he is always trafficking. He makes a sale of somekind
every day, gets up raffles, and trades, then he repents of hav-
ing traded and wants his goods back; he buys for two and sells
for four. He plays with pens and never loses; sells old news-
papers to the tobacco man; and he has a little note book, full of
sums in subtraction, in which he keeps a record of all his
business. He studies only arithmetic, and, if he wishes to
have a prize, it is only to have free entrance to a theatre of
marionettes. I like him and he amuses me. We have played



54 THE HEART OF A BOY

market together, using scales to weigh the different things.
He knows the right price of everything, understands
weights and measures, and can make beautiful paper. bags like
the shopkeepers. He says that as soon as he finishes school,
he will open a store and sell some new article of commerce |
which he has invented. He has always been pleased when I
have given him foreign postage stamps, and he has told me
_ exactly how much each one will sell for. ‘Today, my father,
while feigning to read, stood listening to him, and was
amused. Garoffi always has his pockets full of small articles
of merchandise which he covers up with a long black cloak,
and he looks as though he were continually thinking like a
merchant. That which is the nearest to his heart is his col-
lection of postage stamps; that is his treasure; he always speaks
of it as though he expected to make a fortune out of it. His
companions call him avaricious and an usurer. I donot know;
Tlike him: He teaches me many things and he looks like a
man. Coretti, the son of the wood huckster, says that Garoffi
would not give away his postage stamps éven to save his
mother’s life. My father does not believe it. He says:
‘“Wait before you judge him; he has that passion but he has
a heart.”

VANITY
. Monday the 5th.

Yesterday I went to take a walk through the viale Rivoli
with Votini and his father. Passing through the street Dora
Grosse, we saw Stardi, the one who kicks at those who trouble
him. He was standing in front of a book-seller’s window,
looking closely at a geographical map, and there isno knowing
how long he had stood there, because he always studies when
in the street. He scarcely returned our salute, the rude fel-

“low. Votini was well dressed—too well. He wore morocco
leather boots trimmed with red, an embroidered suit with silk



THE HEART OF A BOY _ 55

tassels, and a white castor hat. He carried a watch and
strutted; but his vanity served him ill thistime. After having
walked for a long time along the path, leaving his father
who walked slowly some distance behind, we sat down ona
stone bench next to a boy who was modestly dressed, who




looked tired and sad,
and who sat with his ©
head hanging down. e
A man who seemed to be his father was &
walking. back and forth under the trees,
reading a newspaper. Votini sat down between the lad and
myself and he immediately remembered that he was well dressed
and wished to be admired and envied by his neighbor.

He raised his foot and said to me, ‘‘ Have you seen my offi-
cer’s boots?”? He said that in order to have the other boy
look at them, but he paid no attention.

Then he lowered his foot and showed me his silk tassels
and said, glancing askance at the-boy, that he did not like
those silk tassels; that he wanted to have them changed for
silver buttons; but the boy did not even look at the tassels.

Votini then began to turn his beautiful white castor hat
on the point of his finger; but. the boy (it seemed that he did
it purposely ) did not deign to even look at the hat. .

wy



56 THE HEART OF A BOY

Votini was beginning to get irritated. He pulled out his
watch, opened it and showed me the works, but the other boy
did not turn his head. ‘‘Isit silver?’? Iasked him. ‘‘ No,”
he answered, ‘‘it is gold.’ ‘‘ But it is not all gold,” said I;
‘‘there is probably some silver in it.’’? ‘No, indeed,” he re-

peated; and, in order to force the boy to look, he held the
watch before his face and said, ‘‘ Look and tell me, is it not all
gold?”

The boy answered drily, ‘‘I do not know.”’

“Oh, ohi”’ exclaimed Votini, full of wrath. ‘‘ What
pride !”’

As he said this Votini’s father came up and heard him. He
looked fixedly at the boy for a moment, and then said brusquely
to his son, ‘‘ Be silent.’? And whispering into his ear, he
added: ‘‘ He is blind.”

Votini jumped to his feet with a shudder, and looked at
the boy’s face. His eyes were glassy and he had no expres-
sion in them.

Votini stood dumbfounded, with downcast eyes ; at last, he
muttered; ‘‘ I regret I did not know it.’’

But the blind boy, who had understood everything, said,
with a melancholy and sweet smile : ‘‘ Oh, it does not matter.”

Yes, Votini is vain, but he has nota bad heart. He did not’
smile again all that day.



THE FIRST SNOW STORM
Saturday the roth.

Farewell, walks to Rivoli, here comes the children’s beau-
tiful friend! Here comes the first snow! Since last evening,
it has fallen down in large flakes like jessamine flowers. It was
fun this morning at school to see it fall against the windows
and pile up on their sills. The teacher also looked at it and
- rubbed his hands. We were all content, thinking of making
snowhalis and of the ice which will come, and of the fire at





Coming down with a iag to warm the school-room.



THE HEART OF A BOY 57

‘ home. There was no one but Stardi who did not look at it é
he was all absorbed in his lesson, with his hand on his temple.
How beautiful ! What a time we had coming out! All danced
down the street, shouting. and gesticulating, snatching up
handfuls of snow and dashing it about like poodles in the water.
The parents were waiting outside the school room with um-
brellas which were covered with snow, the policeman’s helmet
was white, and all our satchels became whitein a few moments.
The boys all seemed beside themselves with joy. Even Pre-
cossi, the son of the blacksmith, the little pallid lad who never
laughs; and Robetti, the one who saved the child from under
the omnibus, poor boy, was leaping on his crutches. ‘The
Calabrian boy who had never seen snow, made a little ball of
it and began to eat it like a peach; Crossi, the son of the vege-
table woman, filled his satchel; and the Little Mason made us
nearly burst with laughter, when my father invited him to
come and visit me to-morrow; he had his mouth full of snow
and he did not dare to swallow it nor spit it out, and he stood
there choking and staring at us but could not answer. Even
the teachers were laughing as they ran out of the school. My
teacher of the first grade was among them, poor woman, run-
ning through the slush, protecting her face with her green veil,
and she was coughing. In the meanwhile, hundreds of girls from
the neighboring school were passing, screaming and dancing
upon that white carpet, and the teachers, janitor and policé-
men were shouting: ‘‘Gohome! Go home!’ Their mustaches
and whiskers were growing white with snow, but they also
laughed at the revelry of the pupils, who were enjoying the
winter.



Thou art enjoying winter —— but there are boys who have no
clothes, no shoes, no fire. There are those who come down to the
villages from long distances, carrying in their hands—bleeding
with chilblains—a piece of log to warm up the school-room.
There are hundreds of schools almost buried in snow, like caves,
where the children nearly suffocate frone the smoke and their teeth



58 THE HEART OF A BOY

chatter with the cold, looking with terror through the white snow-
flakes which fall without ceasing, which pile up constantly upon
their distant huts, threatened by the avalanche. You enjoy winter,
boys! Think of the thousands of human beings to whom winter
brings misery and death! Thy Father.

THE LITTLE MASON

“The Little Mason’’ came to-day, dressed up in his hunt-
ing jacket and clothes cast off by his father, still white with
lime and chalk. My father wished him to come even more
than I did. How pleased we were to see him! As soon as he
entered he took off the soft felt hat, which was all wet with
snow, and stuck it into his pocket; then he came forward with
that careless gait, like a tired workman, with his small face
round like an apple and his nose like a ball, turning his eyes
to look here and there; and when he came into the dining
room, he cast a glance around at the furniture, and then fixed
his eyes upon the portrait which represents Rigoletto, the
hunchbacked buffoon, and he made the hare face.

It is impossible to keep from laughing when you see him
make the hare face. We began to play with wood blocks.
He is skilled in building towérs and bridges, which seem to
stand as though by magic, and he works at it seriously with
the energy of aman. Between the building of one tower and
another, he told me abouf his family. They live in a garret.
His father goes to the evening school to learn to read ana
write; his mother is from Biella. His parents must love him;
one can see it, because if he is dressed as a poor child, yet he is
protected against the cold. His clothes are well mended, and
he wears a necktie which is tied by the hand vi his mother.
He told me that his father is a big fellow, a giant who can
hardly go through the doors, but he is kind, and he always
calls his son ‘‘ Hare Face.’’ The son, however, is very small.

At four o’clock we had lunch together, seated on the sofa.



THE HEART OF A BOY 59

When we got upI could not understand why my father ‘did
not want me to clean the back of the sofa, where the Little
Mason had made it white with his jacket, but he held back my
hand, and cleaned it himselfon thesly. While we were playing,
the Little Mason lost a button from his hunting jacket, and my
mother sewed it on again for him; and he blushed and stood
looking at her so surprised and confused that he could scarcely
breathe. After that I gave him an album which contained il-
lustrations of different characters, to look at; and, unsconcious
of it, he made faces so much like them that even my father
laughed. He was so happy when he left that he forgot to put
on his hat, and to show me his gratitude, when we got to the
landing, he once more made the hare face. His name is An-
touio Rabucco. He is eight years and eight months old.

Dost thou know, my son, why I did not wish thee to clean the
sofa? Because, by deaning it when thy companion would see thee
was to reprove him for having sotled it; and that would not have been
right, first, because he had not done it purposely, and also because
he had done tt with the clothes of his father, which have been cov-
ered with plaster while at work, and what one rubs against at work
as not dirt, it 7s dust, or lime, or varnish, anything that thou wilt,
but not dirt. Work does not make one filthy. Never say of a
workman who comes from his labor: ‘* He is filthy; thou must
say: “‘fle has on his clothes the traces of toil.’ Remember
this, and love the Little Mason because he is thy companion and
because he is the son of a workman. Thy Father,

A SNOWBALL,
Friday the réth.
And it keeps on snowing. An ugly accident happened this
morning because of the snow. As we came out of the school
room, a crowd of boys just entering the Corso began to throw
snowballs made of watery snow, which makes balls that are as
hard and heavy as stones. Many persons were passing on the



60 THE HEART OF A BOY

sidewalk, and a gentleman cried: ‘‘Stop, you rogues!’’ Just
at that moment, a sharp cry was heard on the other side of the
street, and an old man, who-had lost his hat, was seen stagger-
ing and covering his face with his hands. A boy next to him
cried: ‘‘ Help! Help!’

Immediately people ran to him from every side; a snowball
had struck him in the eye. All the boys dispersed, running
like a flash. I stood in front of the bookseller’s shop that
my father had entered, and saw several of my classmates who
were mingled with the others near me, rush in and pretend te
be looking at the show-cases. There was Garrone with a loaf
of bread in his pocket as usual, Coretti, the Little Mason, and
Garoffi, the one who collects postage stamps. In the mean-
time, a crowd had gathered around the old man, and the
policemen and others were running on all sides, threatening
and asking: ‘‘ Who was it?’’? ‘‘ Who did it?’? ‘‘ Was it
you?’’ ‘Tell me, who did it?’’ and looking at the hands of the
boys that were wet with snow.

Garoffi was next to me and I noticed that he was trem-
bling like a leaf and his face was as white as that of a
corpse. ‘‘Whowas it?’’ ‘‘ Who did it?’’ the people con-
tinued to cry.

Then I heard Garrone saying softly to Garoffi: ‘‘ Come,
go and denounce thyself; it would be cowardly to allow some |
one else to be arrested.’’

‘‘But I did not do it on purpose,’’ answered Garoffi, still
trembling.

‘‘It matters not, do your duty,’’ repeated Garrone.

“But I have not the courage.”

“Take courage; I will accompany you.”’

And the others were crying still louder: ‘‘ Who was it?’’
‘““Who didit?’’ ‘One of his glasses has entered into his eye!
‘They have blinded him, the brigands!”’

I thought that Garoffi would fall on the ground. ‘‘ Go,”’
said Garrone resolutely; ‘‘ I will defend you,”’ and, taking him



THE HEART OF A BOY 61

by the arm, he pushed him forward, holding him up like a sick
person. The people saw and understood immediately, and
many made a dash at him with their arms lifted, but Garrone
put himself before him, crying:

‘You are ten against a child!”

Then they stopped, and a policeman took Garoffi by the
hand and, making his way through the crowd, he led him to
a baker’s shop, where the wounded man had been carried.
When I saw him I recognized immediately the old employee
who lives on the fourth floor of our house with his little
nephew. He was leaning back on achair with a handkerchief
over oneeye. “‘I did not do it on purpose,’’ said Garoffi, half
dead with fear; ‘I did not do it on purpose.’ ;

Two or three persons pushed him into the shop violently.
““ Bow down thy head!’ ‘Ask forgiveness! ’’ and they threw
him on the floor; but suddenly two vigorous arms put him upon
his feet, and a resolute voice said:

“No, gentlemen!’’ It was our principal, who had seen
everything. ‘‘Since he has had the courage to give himself
up,’’ he added, ‘‘no one has the right to abuse him.” ‘They
all held their peace. ‘“‘ Ask forgiveness,’’ said the principal to
Garoffi. Garoffi burst into tears and embraced the knees of
the old man, who put his hand on his head and caressed his
hair, and then they all said:

‘Go home, child, go home.”

My father took me away from the crowd, and said on the
way home: ‘‘ Enrico, in a similar case, would you have had
the courage to do your duty and to go and confess your guilt?”
I answered, ‘‘ Yes, I would.”

‘‘Give me your word asa boy of heart and of honor that
you would do so.’’

“‘I give you my word, father !””



62 THE HEART OF A BOY

THE SCHOOL MISTRESS
Saturday the r7th

Garoffi was very much frightened to-day because he ex-
pected a great scolding from the teacher, but the teacher did
uot make his appearance, and, as the substitute was also ab-
sent, the signora Cromi,. the oldest of the school mis-
tresses, came to teach us. She has two large boys, and
she has taught many-of the ladies to read and write, who now
come to the school to accompany their own boys.

She was sad to-day because she has a sick child. As soon
as the boys saw her they began to make an uproar, but with

.a sweet and tranquil voice she said softly, ‘‘ Respect my gray
hair; I am not only a teacher, but a mother as well.’’ Then no
one dared to speak; not even Franti, who was satisfied with
jeering her on the sly.

Mistress Delcati, the teacher of my brother, was sent to
Cromi’s class, and in Mistress Delcati’s place they put the one
whom they call ‘‘ The Little Nun,” because she is always
dressed in. black and has a small white face. She combs her
hair down smoothly; her eyes are very clear, and she has such
a low voice that it seems as though she were all the time
murmuting prayers. ‘‘ One cannot understand her,’’ says my
mother, ‘‘she is so mild and timid, with such a tremor in her
voice that one can scarcely hear her; and she never cries, never
getsangry.’’ Still she holds the boys down very quietly so that
they cannot be heard, and the most roguish of them will bow
his head if she only admonishes him with her finger. Her
school seems like a church; this is another reason why they
call her ‘‘ The Little Nun.’’

There is another whom I also like—the little school mis-
tress of the upper number three, the young lady with the rosy
face and two dimples in her cheeks; she wears a large red
feather in her hat and a yellow cross on her neck. She is





She plays the part of mother toward them.



THE HEART OF A BOY 68

always happy and keeps the class merry; she is always stniling,
and when she scolds with her silvery voice it seems as though
she were singing, striking her little rod on the table and clap-
ping her hands to impose silence. "When they leave the room
she runs behind them like a child, first to one and then
another, to keep them iri line. She pulls up the cap of one
and buttons the coat of another so that they will not catch
cold. She begs the parents not to chastise them at home.
She brings lozenges for those who cough, and lends her muff
to those who are cold, and she is constantly harassed by the
little fellows who torment her and ask her for kisses, pulling
at her veiland mantle. She lets them do it, and kisses every
one, laughing, and she returns home all out of breath but
happy. She is also the drawing teacher of the girls’ school
and supports a mother and a brother with her earnings.

&

IN THE HOME OF THE WOUNDED MAN
Sunday the r&th.

The little nephew of the old employe who was struck in
the eye with a snowball by Garoffi belongs to the class of the
teacher with the red feather. We called on him to-day at the
home of his uncle, who keeps him like a son.

I had just finished writing the monthly story, ‘‘ The Little
Florentine Writer,” for next week, which the teacher gave me
to copy, when my father said to me, ‘‘ We will go upstairs to
the fourth story to see how that gentleman is getting along
with his eye.’ Weentered a room almost dark where there
was an old man sitting up in bed with a great many pillows at
his back. By his bedside sat his wife, and in the corner the
little nephew was playing with toys. The old man had his
right eye bandaged. He was much pleased to see my father,
asking us to sit down, and told us that he was getting better,
that not only was his eye not lost, but that in two or three
days he would be entirely recovered. ‘‘It was an accident,”



64 THE HEART OF A BOY

he added, ‘‘and I am sorry for the fright that the poor boy
must have had.’’

Then he spoke of the. physician who was to come at that
time to attend him.

Just at that moment, the bell rang. ‘‘Itis the physician,’’
said the lady. The door opens and whom do I see?
Garoffi, with his long cloak, standing on the threshold with his
head bent down as though he iacked the courage to enter.

“Who is it?’ asked the sick man.

“Yt is the boy who threw the snowball,’’ answered my
father, and the old man said: ‘‘Oh, my poor boy, walk in,
you come to inquire after the wounded man, isn’t that so? He
is better; be easy; I am better, I am almost well. Come
here.’-

Garoffi, very much confused, approached the bed, making
an effort to keep from*crying, and the old man caressed him,
but he could not speak.

“Thanks,’’ said the old man. ‘‘Go and tell your father
and mother that all is well; let them not worry on my
account.’’

But. Garoffi did not move, he looked as though he had some-
thing to say but dared not say it.

‘** What have you to tell me? What do you want?”

‘J, nothing.”

‘Then, farewell, boy. Go with your heart at peace.”

Garoffi walked to.the door, but there he stopped and turned
around toward the little nephew who was following him, and
looking at him, he suddenly pulled something from under his
cloak and put it in the hands of the boy, saying hastily, ‘“This
is for you,” and he dashed out.

The boy took the parcel to his uncle and they saw written
upon it: ‘“‘/ gtve you this as a present.”

After looking inside, he uttered an exclamation of surprise;
it was the famous album, containing his collection of postage
stamps, that poor Garoffi had given him; the collection of which















































































































































































ed.

The old man had-his right eye banda,



THE HEART OF A BOY 65

he always spoke and upon which he had founded so many hopes
and which had cost him so many efforts; it was a treasure,
poor lad, it was half of his own blood that he had given the old
man in exchange for his pardon.

THE LITTLE FLORENTINE WRITER

(MONTHLY STORY.)

He. belonged to the fourth elementary class. He wasa
pretty Florentine lad of twelve, with black hair and light com-
plexion, the eldest son of a railroad employee, who, hav-
ing a large family and a
small salary, lived in
straightened circumstances.
The little boy’s father loved
him very much, and was
kind to him and indulgent,
except in what concerned
the school. In this one re-
spect he was exacting and
showed himself severe with
him because he must soon
be able to obtain employ-
ment in order to help the
family along, and to accom-
plish this he must learn much in a short time. And, although
the boy studied, the father still exhorted him to study harder.
His father was advanced in years, and severe work had
made him grow old before his time; nevertheless, in order
to provide for the necessities of his family, besides the large
amount of work which his office brought him, he undertook
to do some extra work as copyist, and would spend a great
part of the night at his desk. Lately he had obtained work
from a publishing house which published books and _peri-
odicals, and he had to write on the wrappers the names and





66 THE HEART OF A BOY

addresses of all the subscribers. He received three lire ior
every five hundred paper wrappers which he addressed. But
this work tired him out, and he often complained to the family
at the dinner table.

“‘ My eyesight is going,’? he would say, ‘‘ this night work
is killing me.’’ His son said one day: ‘‘ Papa, let me work
in your stead, you know that I write just as you do.’’ But
the father answered: ‘‘ No, my child, you must study. Your
school is of more importance than my wrappers. It would
grieve me to steal an hour from you. I thank you, but I will
not allow you to do it; do not speak of it again.”

The son knew it was useless to argue with his father in
such matters, and so he did not insist. But this is what he
did. He knew that at midnight his father would stop writ-
ing, leave his working room and go into his bedroom. At
times he heard, immediately after the stroke of twelve, the
noise of a chair moved and the slow step of his father. That
night he waited until his father had gone to bed, dressed him-
self very quietly, went softly into the writing room, lit the
kerosene lamp, and sat down on the desk where there was a
pile of white wrappers and the list of the addresses, and began
to write, imitating exactly his father’s handwriting. He.
wrote willingly and gladly, though a little frightened, and the
wrappers piled up. Once in a while he would stop to rub
his hands and then begin again with increased alacrity, listen-
ing intently and smiling. He wrote one hundred and sixty,
‘One lire;’’? then he stopped, replaced the pen where he had
found it, and returned to bed on tiptoe.

The next day his father sat at the head of the table in good
humor. He had not noticed anything. He was doing his
work mechanically, measuring it by hours, and thinking of
other matters, and did not count the wrappers until the day
after they were written. That day he slapped his hand on
his son’s shoulder, and said, ‘‘ Well, Giulio, your father is still
a good workman, no matter what you may think. In two



THE HEART OF A BOY 67

hours last night he did a good third more work than usual.
My hand is still quick and my eyes still do their duty.”
Giulio was content, and said to himself, ‘“ Poor papa; besides
his gain, I also give him the satisfaction of thinking himself
rejuvenated. Well, have courage !”’

Encouraged by his first success, the next night as soon as
the clock struck twelve he got up and went to work again, and
‘ so he did for several nights, and his father did not notice any-
thing. One night at supper he remarked, ‘It is strange the
amount of kerosene that we use in this house of late.” Giulic
felt a shock, but the conversation stopped there, and the night
work went on.

However, by losing his sleep every night in this way,
Giulio did not rest enough, and in the morning he would get
up feeling tired, and when he did his school work in the
evening he had difficulty in keeping his eyes open. One even-
ing, for the first time in his life, he fell asleep on his copy-
book.

“Courage, courage!’ cried his father, clapping his hands.
‘To work |’?

He shook himself and set to work again. But the next
evening and the following days it was the same thing, and
even worse. He dozed over his books, would get up later
than usual, study his lessons in a careless way, and seemed
disgusted with study. His father began to observe this, and
then to worry about him, and at last to reprove him. He
should never have done so.

“Giulio,” said he one morning, ‘‘ you disappoint me; you
are no longer what you once were. ‘This cannot goon. All
the hopes of the family rest upon you. I am dissatisfied, do
you hear? ’’

Hearing such a reproof, the first really severe one which he
had ever received, the boy was troubled. “ Yes,’’ said he to
himself, ‘‘I cannot continue in this way, it is true; the test
must come to an end.’’ But that same evening, his father ex-



68 THE HEART OF .A BOY

claimed with much satisfaction, ‘‘Do you know that, this
month, I have earned thirty-two lire more by addressing wrap-
pers than I did last month!’’ And as he said this he pulled
from under the table a box of candy which he had bought in
order to celebrate with his children the extra profit, and which
they all received with delight.

Giulio then took courage, and said in his heart: ‘‘ No,
poor papa, I will not stop deceiving you; I will make a greater
effort to study during the day, but I shall keep on working at
night for you and for the others.’’ And his father added:
‘Thirty-two lire more, I am happy but that fellow there,”
and he pointed at Giulio, ‘‘he displeases me.” And Giulio
accepted the reproof in silence, swallowing the tears which were
about to fall, and feeling at the same time, a great sweetness
in his heart.

He kept on working, but fatigue following fatigue, it be-
came harder and harder for him to resist it. He worked in
this way for two months, His father continued toreprove him
and to look at him with more and more of a frown. One day
he went to ask information of the teacher, and the latter
said: :

‘Ves, he goes on because he is intelligent, but he has no
longer the good will which he had at first; he dozes, yawns,
and seems distracted. He writes shorter compositions, and his
penmanship is so bad that they must have been written in
haste. He could do much more.”

That evening his father took him aside and talked to him
more severely than he had ever done before: ‘‘ Giulio, you
see that I work, that I wear my life out for the family. You
do not second my efforts. You do not care for me, for your
brothers, for your mother !”’

‘*Oh! no, no, do not say so, father,” cried the boy bursting
into tears and opening his mouth, about to confess everything.
But his father interrupted him, saying:

“You know the condition of the family; you know there is





THE HEART OF A BOY 69

need of good will and sacrifice on the part of all; you see how
I double up my work. I was counting this month on a grati-
fication of a hundred lire at the railway office, and I learned
this morning that I will not get anything!’’ At this news,
Giulio repressed the confession which was about to escape from
his lips and repeated resolutely to himself:

“‘ No, papa, I will tell you nothing; I will maintain secrecy
in order to be able to work for you; I will compensate you for
the pain that I cause you; at school I will always study enough
to be advanced; what is necessary now is to help you to earn
your living and to lessen the fatigues which are ‘killing you.”
And the boy kept up this night work continually for two
months and suffered from lassitude during the day; there were
desperate efforts on the part of the son and bitter reproofs from
the father.

But the worst of it all was that the latter was gradually
growing colder toward his boy; he spoke to him rarely, as though
he were a recreant son from whom there was no more to hope,
and always tried to avoid his glance. Giulio noticed this and
suffered from it, and when his father tnrned his back, he threw
him a furtive kiss, with a pitiful and sad tenderness on his face,
_ Owing to the sorrow and fatigue, the boy was growing thin-
ner, was losing his color and was forced to neglect his studies.
He understood too well that some day or other it would come
to an end, and every evening he would say: ‘‘ Tonizht I will
not get up;’’ but at the stroke of twelve, at the moment when
he must keep his resolution, he felt a remorse, and it seemed
to him that if he remained in bed he failed to do his duty—rob-
bing his father and his family of a lire; and he would get up,
thinking that some night his father would wake up and sur-
prise him, or that he would find out the deceit by chance in
counting over the wrappers twice, and then all would come to
an end without any action on his part, but he did not feel cour.
ageous enough to tell his father what he was doing; and he
kept on with his work. 5



70 THE HEART OF’A BOY

But one evening at dinner, his father said something which.
decided him. His mother looked at him and it seemed to her
that he appeared more ill and weaker than usual; she said to
him: ‘Giulio, you are ill!” And then turning with anxiety
to her husband, ‘‘ Giulio is ill. Look how pale he is! My
Giulio, what is the matter with you?”

His father cast a glance at him and said: ‘‘It is his bad
conscience that causes him to bein poor heaith; he was not like
this when he was a studious pupil and a boy of heart.

“But he is looking ill,’’ exclaimed the mother.

“I don’t care,” answered the father.

‘These words were. like a knife blade in the heart of the poor
boy. ‘‘Ha! he did not care for him any more!” His own
father, who once trembled to hear him cough! He did not
love him any more! He was no longer in doubt; he was dead
in the heart of his father.

“Ah, now, my father,’’ said the boy to himself with his heart
oppressed with anxiety, ‘‘ this is the end, indeed; i cannot live
without your affection; I want to have it back, the whole of it;
I will tell you all; I will not deceive you any longer; I will
study as I did before, let what will happen, if you will only
love me once more, my poor father. ‘This time I am sure of
my resolution.”’

Nevertheless, when Eide came, he got up again from
mere force of habit more than anything else, and when he was
up, he wished to go and sit for a few minutes, in the peaceful-
ness of the night, and for the last time, in that little room
where he had worked so hard, on the sly, with his heart full
of satisfaction and tenderness. And when he found himself at
the desk with the lamp lighted and those white paper wrap-
pers, upon which he would no longer write the names of per-
sons and towns which by this time he knew by heart, he was
overtaken by a great sadness, and with impetuosity he grasped
the pen again to begin the usual work. But in stretching out
his hand he pushed a book and it fell.





THE HEART OF A BOY 71,

The blood rushed to his heart. What if his father should
waken! He would certainly not surprise him in the act of
doing something bad. He had resolved to tell him every-
thing; still, to hear that step approaching in the
darkness—to be surprised at that hour of the night, in that sil-
lence! He must also have wakened his mother and she would
be frightened—And to think that for the first time his father —
should experience humiliation in his presence, having discoy-
ered everything. All this terrified him. He put his ear
to the lock with suspended breath —— he heard no noise. He
went to another door of the room, but heard nothing. ‘The
whole house was asleep. His father had not heard him.

He felt tranquil and began to write again, and the wrappers
were piling up fast. He heard the regular step of the police-
man in the deserted street, then the noise of a carriage which
suddenly stopped ; then, after.a while, the rattle of a file of
trucks which were slowly passing ; then a profound silence,
broken from time to time by the barking of a dog in the dis-
tance. And he kept on writing and writing. Inthe meantime
his father had come in and stood behind him.

Hearing the book fall, he had risen and had stood awaiting
the proper moment; the rattling of the trucks had drowned his
foot-steps and the creaking of the door. He stood there with
his white head over the small’ black head of Giulio; he had
seen the pen run over the wrappers ; in a moment, he had
guessed everything, remembered all, understood all, and asense
of despairing repentance and of immense tenderness had invaded
his soul and had kept him there, riveted and suffocated behind
his child.

Suddenly, Giulio uttered a piercing shriek and two convul-
sive arms had clasped his head. “Oh, papa, papa, forgive me!
forgive me!’ he cried, having become aware of his father’s
presence by his weeping.

‘““You, forgive me,’’ answered his father, sobbing, and coy-
ing his forehead with kisses. ‘I understand all. I know all,







72 THE HEART OF A BOY

ItisT! ItisI who ask forgiveness from you, blessed little
child of mine. Come, come with me,’’ and he pushed him, or
rather carried him to his mother who was also awake, and
throwing him into her arms, said:

‘ Riss this angel of a child, who for the last three months
has not slept but has worked for me, while I was saddening his
heart, the heart of him who earned our bread.”’

The mother clasped him and held him to her breast without
being able to speak a word, and then said: ‘*Go to sleep
immediately, my child, go to sleep and rest. Take him to
bed!’ ‘’he father took him in his arms and carried him to
his room and put him to bed, still breathing hard and caressing
him, fixed his pillows and his bed covers.

“Thanks, papa.’? ‘The boy repeated his thanks and added:
‘“‘But now, you go to bed, I am satisfied; go to bed, papa.’’ But
his father wanted to see him asleep and sat by the bedside,
took his hand and said: ‘‘Sleep! Sleep! my child!” And
Giulio, tired out, at last fell asleep and slept many hours, en-
joying for the first time in several months a peaceful sleep,
enlivened by pleasant dreams; and when he opened his eyes the
_ sun was shining, and he saw close to his. breast, leaning upon
the edge of the little bed, the white head of his father who had
passed the night thus, and who still slept with his brow lean-
ing against his son’s heart.

WILL

There is Stardi in my class who would have the strength to
do what the little Florentine boy has done. This morning, there
were two events at school: Garoffi was crazy with satisfaction
-because they had returned his album with the addition of three
postage stamps of the Republic of Guatemala which he had
been trying to get for the last three months ; and Stardi won
the second medal. Stardi next in theclass to Derossi! It was
a surprise to all, Who would have thought it would be so in













His brow leaning against his son's heart,



THE HEART OF A BOY 73

October, when his father took him to school, bundled up in his
large green overcoat, and said to the master, in the presence of
all the pupils:. ‘‘Havea great deal of patience, because it is
difficult for him to understand,” Every one called him a block-
head at the beginning. But he started to work with all his
might, in the day time, by night. at home, at school, or walk-
ing in the street, with his teeth shut and his fists clenched.
And, surely, by dint of trampling on every one, not caring for
the jeers of others, and kicking all those who disturbed him, he
passed ahead of every one, that blockhead, who did not under-
stand the first thing about. arithmetic, filled. his composition
with mistakes, and could not commit to memory a single para-
graph. Now, he solves problems, writes correctly, sings his
lesson like a song. One can guess at his iron will when one sees
how he is built, so thick-set with a square head and no neck,
with short hands and a coarse voice. He studies even,in scrap
books, newspapers, and theatre advertisements, and every time
he gets ten soldi, he buys a book. He has already collected
quite a little library, and, in a moment of good humor, he has
promised to take me to his home to see it, He never speaks
to any one, never plays with any one, but is always there at
his desk with his fists on his temples, sitting like a rock, listen-
ing to the teacher. How he must have struggled, poor Stardi !
The master, although he was impatient andin a bad humor this
morning when he delivered the medals said: ‘‘ Bravo, Stardi,
he who endures conquers.’ But Stardi did not seem at all puffed
up with pride, he did not even smile, and as soon as he returned
to his bench with his medal, he put his two fists on his temples
and sat just as still and more attentive than before. But
the finest thing happened when he went out of school, where
his father was waiting for him. He is a thick-set fellow, big
and clumsy, with a large round face and a heavy voice. He
did not expect that medal, and could scarcely believe it was
true that Stardi had won it; the teacher was obliged to convince
him, and then he began to laugh heartily and tapped his son on



74 THE HEART OF A BOY

the back of the neck, saying in a loud voice: “‘ Well done!
Bravo, my little blockhead ! that is the way!” and looked at
him as if amazed, but smiling. And all the boys around
smiled, with the exception of Stardi, who was already pondering
over the lesson for to-morrow morning.

GRATITUDE
Saturday the 3rst.

Thy companion, Stardi, never complains about his master, 1
am sure. ‘‘ The teacher was in a bad humor and was impatient.”
And thou sayst that, in a tone of resentment. Think a little, how
many times dost thou act impatiently thyself and with whom?
With thy father and thy mother, towards whom thy impatience ts
acrime. Thy teacher is right to be tmpatient at times! Think
how many years he has toiled for the boys, and though he has had
many who were kind and devoted to him, there are always some
who are ungrateful and take advantage of his kindness, who do
not appreciate his efforts; and among all of you, you cause him
more bitterness than satisfaction. Think that the most blessed
man on earth, if put in his place, would at times be conquered by
wrath, And then tf thou knewest how many times he goes to
teach, not feeling well and yet not tll enough to remain away
From the school room. He is impatient because he suffers, and it
pains him to see that you do not notice it and that you take advan-
tage of it. Respect and love thy master, child. Love him be-
cause thy father loves and respects him, because he consecrates his
life to the welfare of so many boys, who will forget him. Love
him because he opens and enlightens thy intelligence and educates
thy soul; because some day when thou art a man, and when
neither he nor I shall be in this world, his image will often pre-
sent itself to thy mind alongside of mine, and then thou wilt notice
certain expressions of sorrow and of weariness in his good face
which thou dost not observe now, but that thou wilt remember and
‘that will cause thee sorrow even thirty years later; and thou wilt



THE HEART OF A BOY 75

be ashamed, and wilt experience sadness Jor not having loved him
and for behaving badly toward him. Love thy teacher because he
belongs to the large family of ‘fifty thousand elementary teachers
scattered all over Italy, who are like intellectual fathers to millions
of boys who grow up with thees a worker scarcely recognized and
badly recompensed, and who prepares for our country a people bet-
ter than the present one. Lam not content with the affection which
thou hast for me, of thou hast not also an affection for all those
who do thee good, and among these thy master, who ts the first
after thy parents, Love him as thou wouldst a brother of mine,
| Love him when he caresses thee and when he reproves thee, when
he ts just, and when it seems that he ts unjust. Love him when
he is merry and affable, and love him also still more when he ts
sad. Love him always, and always pronounce with reverence this
word, ‘‘ master,’ which, next to the name of “father,” zs the
most noble and the sweetest that a man can call any man.

Thy Father.

JANUARY

THE SUBSTITUTE
Wednesday the gth.

My father was right; the teacher was ina bad humor because
he was not feeling well. For the last three days, a substitute
has taken his place, a little fellow without whiskers and who
looks like a youth. A shameful thing happened this morn-
ing. The boys had been making an uproar at school for the
past two days, because the substitute has a great deal of
patience and says nothing except: ‘‘ Be quiet, be silent, I beg
you!’?

But this morning they passed all bounds. A great noise
arose and his words could no longer be heard; he would ad-
monish and beg, but it was all lost. ‘The principal peeped



a

76 é THE HEART OF A BOY

through the door twice, but as soon as he was gone, the noise
would increase, as it does in a market place. Garrone and
Derossi in vain turned around and made some signs to their
companions to keep quiet, as it was a shame. No one paid
any heed. Stardi kept quiet. He sat with his elbows on the
desk and his fists on his temples, probably dreaming of his
famous library. Garoffi, the boy with the hooked nose and the
collector of postage stamps, kept busy, drawing up a list of
subscribers at two ‘‘centesimi’’ each for the lottery of a big
inkstand. ‘The rest of the boys chattered and laughed, played
with pen points stuck on the benches, and threw pellets of
paper at each other with the elastics from their garters. ‘The
substitute would grab by the arm, now one boy and now at-
other, and shake him, but it was time and trouble wasted. The
substitute no longer knew what to do, and was entreating:
‘“‘ Why do you act this way? Do you want me to punish you
by force??? ‘Then he would pound his fists upon the desk and
cry, in a voice mingled with wrath and tears: ‘‘ Silence!
Silence! Silence!’’? It was painful to hear him.

But the noise grew every moment. Franti threw a paper
arrow at him, others uttered cat-calls, some thumped each
other on the head; it was a pandemonium almost beyond de-
scription, when all of a sudden the janitor entered:

“Signor Maestro, the principal calls you.”

The teacher arose and left hurriedly, making a gesture of
despair. ‘Then the noise recommenced stronger than ever.
But suddenly Garrone sprang up with a convulsed face
and his fist closed, and shouted with a voice thick with
wrath: :

“Stop this, you brutes! you take advantage of him because
he is good; if he were to bruise your skin you would keep as
abject as dogs. You are a lot of cowards! The first one who
mocks him again, I will lay for him outside and break his
teeth; I swear it, even though it be under the eyes of his father!’’
They were all silent.



ae ae



THE HEART OF A BOY 77

Ah! how beautiful it was to see Garrone with those eyes
that were emitting flames! He appeared like a furious little
lion. He looked at the boldest boys, one by one, and they
bent their heads. When the substitute, with red eyes, re
entered the room not a breath was heard. He stood in amaze-
ment. But, after seeing Garrone, still all aflame and
trembling, he understood and said, with an accent of great
affection, as if he were speaking to a brother: ‘‘I thank you,
Garrone.”’

STARDI’S LIBRARY

Stardi lives opposite the school and I have been in his home.
I felt envious, indeed, when I saw his library. He is not
rich; he cannot buy many books; but he keeps with care his
school books and those which his parents give him, and saves
all the soldi which he gets, and puts them aside and spends
them at the book-seller’s; in this way he has already got a lit-
tle library. And when his father discovered that he had this
passion, he bought him a nice walnut bookcase with a green
curtain and had many volumes bound in the colors he liked the
best. When he pulls a little string the curtain runs back and
one can see three rows of books of every color, all placed in
good order, shining, with the titles in gold on the back. Books
of stories, of travels, of poetry, and some of them are illus-
trated. He knows how to harmonize the colors and puts the
white volumes next to the red, the yellow ones next to the
black, and the blue ones next to the white ina way that they
may be seen at a distance and make a nice show, and he
amuses himself by changing the combinations. He has made
himself a catalogue. He is like a librarian, always around his
books, dusting them, turning over the leaves, and examining
the bindings; you ought to see with what care he opens them
with those short, thick fingers, blowing through the pages, and
théy all seem new... I have worn mine all out! Every new



78 THE HEART OF A BOY

book he buys is a feast for him; he polishes it and puts it in
place, taking it and looking at it in every way, and brooding
over it like a treasure. He showed me nothing else in an
hour’s time. He has sore eyes from reading too much. While
I was there his father passed through the room. He is big
and clumsy and has a large head like Stardi’s. He gave him
two or three thumpings on the back of his head, saying with
that big voice of his:

‘‘What do you think, eh, of this thick head of bronze?
‘It is a thick head which I assure you will succeed in doing
something! ’’

And Stardi half closed his eyes under that rough caress,
like a large hunting dog. I did not dare to jest with him. I
could hardly believe that he is only one year older than I, and
when he said ‘‘Goodbye’’ at the door, with that face which
always looks ridiculous, I came very near saying to him:
“‘Good afternoon, sir,’’ as I would to a man. I told my
father about it afterward, when I was at home: ‘‘ I do not under-
stand it; Stardi has no talent, he lacks good manners, he has a
ridiculous looking face, still he imposes respect upon me.”’
And my father answered: ‘‘It is because he has character.”’
And I added: ‘‘Inthe hour that I have been with him, he
has not said fifty words; he has not shown me any toy; he has
not laughed once; yet, I was glad to bethere.”” And my father
answered: ‘‘It is because you esteem him.”’

THE SON OF THE BLACKSMITH

Yes, and I esteem Precossi also; and it is not enough to say
that I esteem him. Precossi, that little thin fellow, who has
languid but good eyes and a frightened look, is the son of a
blacksmith. He is so timid that he saystoevery one, ‘‘ Excuse
me,” but he studies almost too much. His father returns
home drunk and beats him without any reason whatever; throws
his books and copy-books around with a blow of the hand; and



THE HEART OF A BOY 79

sometimes Precossi comes to school with black and blue marks
on his face, and his eyes red from crying. But one can never
make him tell that his father has beaten him. His compdnions
say to him:

‘It is your father who has beaten you,”’ And he answers
immediately: ‘‘ No, thatisnottrue!’’ in order not to disgrace
his father.

‘“‘It was not you who burned this sheet of paper,’’ the
master said, showing him his lesson half burned.

‘“Yes,’’ he answered ‘‘I let it fall in the fire.”’

Still, we well knew that his father, being drunk, had upset
the lamp on the table with a kick while Precossi was writing
his lesson.

He lives in the garret of our house on the other side of the
stairway. The janitor’s wife tellsmy mother everything. One
day my sister Silvia heard him from the balcony crying in ter-
ror ; his father had sent him headlong down the stairs because
he had asked him for money to buy a grammar. His father
drinks and does not work, and his family are starving all the
time.

How often does Precossi come to school with an empty
stomach and nibbles in secret the small loaf which Gar-
rone has given him, or an apple which the little teacher with
the red feather has presented to him; she was his teacher in
the first lower class. But he never says: ‘‘I am hungry, my
father does not give me enough to eat.’’

His father calls for him sometimes when he. passes the
school. Hehas a fierce face, with his hair over his eyes and a
cap worn on the back of his head, and he is often unsteady on
his legs ; the poor boy trembles when he sees him coming, but
nevertheless he runs to meet him, smiling, and his father acts as
though he did not see him but was thinking of something else.

Poor Precossi! He mends his torn copy-books, borrows
books to study the lesson, patches up the fragments of his shirt
with pins. Itis pitiful to see him in the gymnastic class, wearing



80 THE HEART OF A BOY

shoes that are so large that he can dance inside them, and wit
those long trousers which drag on the ground when he walks,
with a jacket too long for him, and those huge sleeves turned
back to the elbow. He studies and does his best and would be
one of the first in the class if he could quietly work at home.

This morning he came to school with the mark of a finger
nail on his cheek, and all the boys said to him: ‘‘It is your
father, you cannot deny it this timé; it is your father who did
that. Tell the principal and he will have him called before the
police magistrate.” But he arose and with a voice trembling
with indignation, said: ‘‘ No, itis not true! It is not true!
My father never strikes me !’’

During the lesson, the tears fell on his book, but if any
one looked at him, he made an effort to smile that he might not
show his feelings. Poor Precossi! To-morrow, Derossi, Co-
retti, and Nelli are coming to my house, to have lunch with me.
I want to ask Precossi to come also. I would like to give him
some books and to turn the house upside down to amuse him ;
and I would fill his pocket with fruit, so that I might see him
happy for once. Poor Precossi, who is so kind and good, and
who has so much courage !

A NICE VISIT
Thursday the rath.

This was one of the finest Thursdays in the year. At two
o’clock sharp, Deressi, Coretti, and Nelli, the little hunchback,
came to my hese; Precossi’s father would not allow him to
come. Derossi 2:4 Coretti were still laughing because they
had met Crossi,—-tke boy with the withered arm and red hair, —
the son of the green vegetable woman, in the street; he was
carrying a big cabbage in order to sell it so that with the soldo
he received he might buy a pen-holder, and he was so happy
because his father has written from America that they may
expect him back any day. Oh, how happy were the two —



THE HEART OF A BOY 81

hours which we passed together! Derossi and Coretti are the
two jolliest boys in school, and my father fell in love with them.
Coretti wore his chocolate-colored knit jacket and his cat-skin
cap. He isa lively fellow, he always wants to be doing some-
thing, stirring up something, putting something in motion.
He had already carried half a wagon load of wood early in the
morning; still he galloped all over the house, observing every- J
thing and talking all the time, nimble and quick like a squir-
rel; and’going to the kitchen, he asked the cook how much we
paid for our wood by the “ myriagramme,’’ and said that his
father sold it at forty-five centesimi. He always speaks of his
father who was a soldier in the 49th regiment at the battle of
Custozza, where he fought in the army of Prince Humbert.
Coretti is so gentle in his manner—It does not matter that he
was born and brought up surrounded by wood, he has a kind
heart, as my father says. Derossi amused us very much; he
knows his geography like a teacher, and he would close his
eyes and say:

‘‘ Behold, I see all Italy ; the Appennines which extend to
the Ionian Sea, the rivers which flow here and there, the white
Cities, the gulfs, the blue bays and the green hills.’ And, he
told rapidly and in order the correct names, as if he were read-
ing them from a paper. We all stood in admiration, looking
at him with that head, covered with blonde curls, held high,
and his eyes closed. So straight and handsome and dressed in
black with gilt buttons, he looked like a statue. In an hour,
he had learned by heart almost three pages which he must
recite the day after to-morrow at the anniversary of the funeral
of King Vittorio. Even Nelli looked at him with admiration
and affection as he wrapped the folds of his black rain-coat
around him, and smiled with those clear and mournful eyes,
That visit gave me much pleasure and left me something like
two bright spots in mind and heart. I was also pleased, when
they left, to see poor Nelli between the other two, large and
strong. who carried him in their arms, making him laugh as I



Full Text


THE HEART OF A BOY.

[CUORE.]

Tae

HEART OF A Boy

(CUORE)

A SCHOOLBOY’S JOURNAL

By EDMONDO ve AMICIS

TRANSLATED FROM THE 224ruH ITALIAN EDITION
By PROF. G. MANTELLINI



EDITION DE LUXE

CONTAINING 32 FULL-PAGE HALF-TONE ENGRAVINGS
5 AND 26 TEXT ILLUSTRATIONS

CHICAGO

LAIRD & LEE, PUBLISHERS
Entered according to Act of Congress in the year eighteen hun-
dred and ninety-five by
WM. H. LEE,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.



Copyright. 1899, by
Wn. H. Lee.
CONTENTS

OCTOBER: Oran
ThesKirst’Dayof Schoolies ace ee a a 9
Ours Masternssehiten pect se nmr srcumeens aan man haeiered tre apens on wens ane YL
ATA CCId en tenures inar a ani marae runtae nu nr ous ir te, eine ame nee errata DO,
The: CalabrianvBoy were ces reek ne ye cece onan omane cnt
My AGTA SSI ates ei ctnai aces setcnes carer terne sete acaba cad ab re neten SLO,
A Noble Action, . . pace Sanaa tse aa ers ete CLG
My School Mistress of the Upper F Fie WS peut ase weer O
PnancAttion ci onan : Bie Racin aaa ee niee Notes anne O
The School, . . ee aie One ea ue oR Muon i iran
The Little Patriot of Padua. epee Mee nanan Sear nents eae DS

NOVEMBER:

HeVChIMNey SWCD y ars ate te pune eee chen a eee ue
PAUL SSO US 2a ayaa esas ane eee lee atc ieee ee it Ihenest ert aie opine anne eC)
My Friend Garrone, . . Ue RRO ny adie senae iagely Tamera AS:
The Charcoal Man and the ‘Gemisman: ses ode RelA RITA NUE eon once O)
My Brother’s School- HEE SUSI ysen sem A tae Ucn norte akan ute ego
My Mother, . . Meceauss tayarom mole Mutane Weert ele meta oO
My Companion Cores hes Vaiitec disse ape tate hats Feet ai ne earl ieeen nee U OO
ThePrincipalvot-the Schooljce a cke eno ee So BO)
The Soldiers, . . . de easeh eae a cde scaear ahs Oe aeegs eeeron te apa ete A ()
TheeProtectorofiNelli ccm 95) eu: Anite Cn a are etaneiie ct A
The First of the Giness ee Paes si acess att ee ne tore eae opment TAA
The Little Vidette of Lombardy, Sees aprlge ay atan ane Secret aoe |
The Poor, ) . 25. ae tee oem nn ae L
DECEMBER:
Phe Wrading Boys. ow Se Dae, 58
Vanity; ice. Seine Sis seelee Conia he enigma racine deka ar RO
The First Snow Sore BORE ok ea aera eee ay EU oO NEE G)
EReREittlewMiasonisens tied) Cob ssn en rn aren ea eu seinen sens en O
PAE STO WeBall ae cee Malo cra anes ecient erence rep aerate OO
The School-Mistress, : . eee AOS Dalby eae epee eG

In the Home of the Wounded ayae incision Seales ov aunOD
4 CONTENTS

PAGE
The Little Florentine Writer, . . . .....2..~.. . 65
Bat Lp Ss eee Gale recreate io ee ete cere en eee a ee PACD og aan ses Cougs ane O
(GAEL ETL Gay i ey oe ek ane eee peor carrera 4
JANUARY:
bie! Substitute; meses. se cane yuna an gec hiner eel ea cate
Stardi’s Library, . . . OMS oR Gee ee ae HED ey nae Gay Cpe ie aan Lal
The Son of the Black sinith Duna: ga Wiig eda ep ales ola aa cheerios Ra eee Mea Oa (8
A Nice Visit, . . . AS eat nate AOU nent ee etiraleaes S()
The Funeral of VAEtORO mance er aay aD te Sie EEO!
Franti Expelled from School, . . . . ...... 2.2. ~ 88
The Sardinian Drummer Boy, cesta earn ee ee cc oe) BS
RheTove oh Our Countrys. 99 esa tea eee OS
BNVY sy Se essa ease ae Nera onto ant a igen Oy cree eG
Franti’s Mother, Bea litsag Utrera ke ag eaiainon aig un Negeaere hun eae Ri ahi bys
LOD Fatetic ices acne ralie oe ite pea taper yt ec cer Ty ee Ce PE 99
FEBRUARY:
AuWell-AwardeddMedal oii ge te = sy aren tee weet Oi
Good Resolutions, . . poy east aa er ne ean nie Oo oranene eC)
The LittleRailway, Drains on ona his a eae eed 04
Pride, .. TEttieaic est mee tlt elan eee te neaNnonbegcm area (OG
The Wounds of Worl Bare eat uy aps ele, Sen eit len Seen tig area eee |S
PP He PPrisOnen, hit weg eeceu ial er eet ee Bee ever ame ttenn eoeerat (if ()
PaparssNurse psaus ott ace. Unit en met aris Mera oes a ene oer SITS
APHES WOT SHO p figs tote TU ie Nese eet Alana are Ok aie ges
The Little Clown, . . ota i es ahee sentient Dae pet aaah Sens [Sa
The Last Day of the Carnival Rea nel nd uenbenees ieemernn ae LOS
A hecBlindsB oy siceiiecccr wie isis onan een oe none ta) Faas amare eben
PEHELSICKMMAS ERs eas airs hei eee er ey ae eC rere ere ea ana S37
BODILOLS Pree ncn et ait seattle lt tne ar cementite penned areata eT SO
MARCH:
The Evening Schoolssi ase ae ee Cred een ee TAO
PDHERH I oh tease seins aie ee nen pie oc a ametnitstye peau ena meee yee omeaT AD
Mie Boy suRielativesig: cise ited me latin emus sna ara pam eeceent 4a
IN Ut Dera Oise ue cia eereniy aiebe ten anre cu ene Sim aed (tiene time oll eT G
The Little Dead Boy, . . Unie keaton rer AS
The Eve of the Fourteenth Bt March PISS on Ga ee eee toe Sy eee TD ()
‘hed istributioncorpPrizesya cn os a a nee ee Re eee Gils
PASO MATTE Mere remanicrcs Ine y meee late te eae eet onl cance: ty Re ety eat ea Near 6

MYA SISters: oon urs miner ce nun we rei ae Nu wen ae Reopen cee ena |OS
CONTENTS 5

z PAGE
Blood of Romagna, . . apy ie aay ea peony ase sae OO
The Little Mason Seriously ull, Mental eee n ata eens Ime OS
The Count Cavourete osce i SOt I eo ee lO:
APRIL:
Spring, . . Ba ae ree ea voet ae soar aaree ael eee Gu Cetus Leh
King Umberto, Pate Gens.) areas Knaus Gr veh tt evn eeu Ld
Thesntant Asylum, age cesses ence Sieroter erie OS
Athes G yimtlasin mise ea rescinded arena gL Om
My Father's Teacher saci io Shee Ae Se ei 85,
Convalescence, . . Baie olor ie pa ami eo
The Friend of the Workwaay RnR ope geet aoe are elneas: eines Mier ird Wale
Garrone’s Mothenemierrat ts tue ann eat wean ae LOS
Giuseppe Mazzintyar wert ct eee Se he LOD
GivicaVialor yaa sree tae etanercept ne innanrcreane te a
May:
The Children with the Rickets, . . . . ... .. . . 206
Sacrifice asda we ano oe Na UN al eerualr ny Snore reer ainrcasna 08
*phevbirey oss 008 Spel tena imu ee tren aia nestery cia 121
From the Apennines to the Andes: Sod ues ware uantcrer era wet vie 2 de
Stuiim erate raat cpt une tee procee woven meen Tame Matar Se oO
Poetry, . . POLE meee a RIC GTO paw eM neon act OO
The Deaf and Durib Girl, ee tage wna tne neon cosa a nam eEMnneE 8 Undo]:
JUNE:
Garibaldi wissen varies cores omnia crenata unm ine Gare an ADO,
THEVA IY: pete ete Thee i pene Naar eee eh ee eA AOU
Italy,. . . eee ates nae er eo AOS,
Thirty-two Degrees Centigrade, Gees ia me ees anne ao eas AOD
My Father, .. . SE St a ceNee Don ule Ne ent aia ee et 00
In the Country, Dee es Meet eain a deren ZOO
The Distribution of Prizes ‘ the Went iem Hee nae ine Rien OO)
My Dead School-Mistress, . . 2. - - . +e 2 1. es 272
Chva niles asns suet eet ig tered as et iu wak apt aia vrei one aren a (
A Shipwreck, Tailed pub ecas Greats one seo Ce aetna erate ome ye AUD)
JULY:
The Last Page from My Mother, . . 2. 2 . . 1 1. 282
hers xaimination: wesosu coats Some ature asim enines ts Oe
Mieclast Examinations cre sec tan Jeg sae eae Sg OO.

are welleeee an ieuavn ade ec meee eating ain aren iceman AOL
FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS

Opposite

Page -
Portrait of Edmondo de Amicis, . . . ....... -. Title
Poor, tired, little chap, . . . : Ag ect eet ee
. others, seeing their parents iene he 6 CLS Rage cee onan meee LO),
He pointed to Reggio di Calabria on the wall map of oe ares egestas] 4
Then Garroni said resolutely: ‘‘It was I,”’ ; Meee eee LS,
. . . in a few rough words the child told ie Rion cater nie ei eu an eee ee OD
A tempest of coins fell upon their heads, . . . . ..... . 24
It was Coretti carrying a load of WOO series = riileh cea eis seta hyn ne eae OG
That boy resembled perfectly hisown lostson, . . . ... . . 88.
The band . . surrounded by a crowd of a psi asset et en ees eat ecient eRe.
And he slept there in the grass, . . . rd weep nt Pa cme nee ate),
Coming down with a log to vvarm the trnaee SLOOD) aittse Uy eo Cee oe Gee OO.
She plays the part of mother toward them, . . ....... . 62
The old man had his right eye panda ged: eeepc cats aan dese mete cer OA
His brow leaning against his son’s heart, . . ET Gk er Rene eho,
They darted out of the house with lowered Nereneras Teese haere as O()
At that moment passed the military surgeon, . . . . . . . . . 92
Upon the litter, a man as white as a corpse, . . . yong oe 108:
. he went every day to teach the prisoners in the aie ee odan mere ()
A con dressed as a peasant and with abundle, . . . pee era ay mecr lk
The sister drew the curtains saying, “This is your iiner Stee eee es EIA:
The blind children at their music lesson, . ..... . . . , 184
A mother dreaming of her absent boy, . . . . .... . . . . 160
The old teacher opened a narrow drawer, . . . . . . . . , . 188
The child wrested his friend from the river, . . . .... . , 904
‘Poor little shriveled and distorted bodies!". . . . . . . . . 906
“'T will do everything you wish—everything!” . . . .., . . . 210
He stood looking at the convoy until it VaniShediet gl Sees eye 1936
They wereIndians,. . . Se Guba hacer eer R
Worn out, the boy fell on the ayede: Selon eeciitmtan Mecilan ewer mame sO 4 ()
We went along, running androlling, . . ...., .. . . . 268
The funeral of the dead school-mistress, . . . . . Sey ee are

A number of them were kneeling around the priest, . . rile eae,


AUTHOR’S PREFACE.

This book is particularly dedi-
cated to boys of the elementary
schools, between the ages of nine to thirteen years, and it
might be called, ‘‘History of a School Year, by a pupil of
the Third Grade of a Public School in Italy.’

By saying that it was written by a pupil of the third grade,
Ido not wish to convey the idea that it was written by him

entire, or as it appears in print. The boy noted down success-
ively in a copy-book, what he knew, what he saw, what he
felt, thought and experienced inside and outside the school;
and his father, at the end of the year, wrote these pages from
those notes, endeavoring not to alter the thought but to pre-
serve, as near as possible, even the words used by his son.
The latter, however, four years later, having entered the High
School, re-read the manuscript and added to it something of
his own, drawing upon his memory, still fresh, of the people
and things.

Now read this book, boys. I hope it will please you and

do you some good.


Poor, tired, little chap.
THE HEART OF A BOY



OCTOBER
THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL,

Monday the r7th.

This is the first day of school. My three months spent in
the country passed like a dream, ‘This morning my mother
took me to the Baretti school to have me entered for the third
elementary grade. I was thinking of the country and went
reluctantly. The streets were swarming with boys; the book-
sellers’ shops crowded with fathers and mothers who were
buying bags, portfolios, and copybooks; and so many people
thronged in front of the school that a janitor and policeman
had a very hard time keeping the entrance clear.

Near the door, some one touched me on the shoulder; 1t was
my teacher of the second elementary. Always cheerful, he said:

“Well, Enrico, are we separated forever? ”

I knew it too well, still those words pained me.

We made our way through the crowd with difficulty.
Ladies, gentlemen, women of the middle class, workingmen,
officers, grandmothers, servants, each leading a boy with one
hand and holding the books of promotion with the other, were
crowding the entrance and the stairway, making sucha buzzing
that it seemed like entering a theatre. I saw with pleasure the
large hall on the ground floor with the doors of the seven class
rooms where I had passed nearly every day for three years.
There was a crowd of school mistresses coming and going. She

(9)
10 THE HEART OF A BOY

who had taught me in the first upper class saluted me from the
door of her room and said:

‘* Enrico, you go upstairs this year, I shall not even see you
pass !’? and looked at me with sadness. The principal had
around him mothers in distress because there was no room for
their children, and it seemed to me that his beard was a little
whiter than it was last year. J also noticed that some of the
boys had grown taller and stouter.

On the ground floor, where the divisions had already been
made, there were children of the first and lowest grade who did
not want to enter the class-room and who balked like donkeys;
it was necessary to push them in; some escaped again from
their benches; others, seeing their parents leave, commenced to
ery, and the father or mother would return to offer consolation
or take them home again, and the teachers were in despair.

My little brother was to enter the class of Mistress Delcati ;
I was put in that of Master Perboni up on the first floor.

At ten o’clock we were all in the class-room; fifty-four of us;
only fifteen or sixteen of my class-mates of the second grade,
among whom was Derossi, the one who always wins the first
prize. ‘The school-room seemed small and sad tome. I was
thinking of the. woods and mountains where I had spent the
summer. I was also thinking of my teacher of the second
class;‘he was so good and always laughed with us, and so small
that he seemed: like a companion, and I was sorry not to see
him there with his bushy red hair. Our present teacher is tall, -
with long hair and no beard, and he has a straight wrinkle
across his forehead. His voice is heavy and he looks at us
fixedly, as though to read our inmost thoughts; I do not think
he ever laughs. I was saying to myself: ‘‘ This is the first
day. Nine more months. How much work, how many
monthly examinations, how much fatigue!” I felt the need of
finding my mother at the close. Iran to her and kissed her
hand. She said: ‘‘ Courage, Enrico! we will study together,’’
and I returned home happy. But I no longer have my master










Others, seeing their parents leave, began to ery.
THE HEART OF A BOY 11

with his kind and cheerful smile, and the school does not seem
so pleasant to me as it did last year.

——

OUR MASTER

Tuesday the 18th.

My new teacher pleases me since this morning. While we
were coming in, he stood at his post, and many of his pupils
of last year peeped in through the door to salute him:
‘Good day, Signor teacher,’’ ‘‘Good day, Signor Perboni;’’
some would enter, touch his hand and run away. It was plain
that they liked him and would have been pleased to remain
with him. He answered: ‘‘Good day,’’ shook the hands that
were tendered him, but looked at no one, and at every salute
remained serious, with the straight wrinkle on his forehead,
turning his head toward the window and looking at the roof of
the house opposite. Instead of enjoying those salutations he
seemed to suffer from them. Then he looked at us, one after
the other, attentively. While dictating, he came walking
down between the benches, and seeing a scholar whose face
was all red with pimples, he paused, took the boy’s face be-
tween his hands and looked at him; asked the cause of the
trouble and felt his forehead to see if it were warm. Inthe
meanwhile, the boy behind him stood up on the bench and be-
gan to play the marionette. Our master turned around sud-
denly; the boy sat down quickly and awaited his punishment.
The teacher placed his hand on his head and said: ‘‘ Do not
do it any imore!’’ and returned to his desk. When he had
finished dictating, he looked at us silently for a moment, and
then said very slowly, in his heavy yet kind voice:

‘* Listen, we have a year to pass together, let us seek to
pass it well. Study and be good. I have no family. You
may take the place of my family. I had a mother last year
but she is dead. I have no one else in the world now but you.
12 THE HEART OF A BOY

I have no other affection, no other thought than you. You
must be my sons; I love you; you must love me. I do not
want to be obliged to punish any one. Show me that you are
boys with good hearts, and our school will be a family and you
will be my consolation and my pride. I do not ask a promise
of you, I am sure that in your hearts you have already told me
‘yes’ and I thank you.”’

At that moment the janitor came in to announce that the
class was over, and we left our desks very quietly. ‘The boy
who had stood up on his bench approached the master and
said to him in a trembling voice :

‘« Signor master, will you forgive me?”’

The master kissed his forehead and said: ‘‘Go, my son.”’

AN ACCIDENT

Friday the 2rst.

The year hascommenced with an accident. Going to school
this morning, I was repeating the words of the teacher to my
father, when we beheld the street thronged with people who
were crowding in front of the school. My father said: ‘‘ An
accident! the year commences badly.”’

We entered with some difficulty. The large hall was so
crowded with relatives of the boys that the teachers could
hardly reach their class-rooms, and all were turned toward the
ptincipal’s room and we could hear them saying, ‘‘ Poor boy.”
‘*Poor Robetti!”’

Above the heads at the further end of the room, which was
thronged with people, one could see the helmet of a policeman
and the bald head of the principal; then a gentleman with a
silk hat entered and they all said: ‘‘It is the doctor.’”’ My
father asked a teacher what was the matter, and he answered:
“‘A wheel passed over his foot.’’ ‘‘It crushed his foot,’’ said
another. ‘‘It is a boy of the second grade, who, ‘when
THE HEART OF A BOY 13

coming to school through the street Dora Grossa, saw a child
of the first grade, who had run away from his mother, fall in
the middle of the street only a few steps from an omnibus
which was coming upon him. He ran and caught up the boy
and put him in safety, but not being quick enough to withdraw
his own foot, the omnibus had passed over it. He is the son
of an artillery captain.” While they were telling us this, alady
entered the room looking like a crazy woman, breaking her
way through the crowd. It was the mother of Robetti, for
whom they had sent. Another lady ran to meet her and threw
her arms around her neck, sobbing; it was the mother of the
child who had been saved. Both ran into the room and a des-
perate cry was heard: ‘‘Oh, my Giulio, my child!”’

At that moment a carriage stopped in front of the door, and
the principal appeared with the boy in his arms, the sufferer's
head leaning upon his shoulder, with a white face and closed
eyes. All were silent, and one could hear the mother sobbing.
The principal stopped a moment, raised the boy with both arms
and showed him to the people. ‘Then masters, mistresses, par-
ents and boys murmured together: ‘‘ Bravo, Robetti! Bravo, poor
boy!” They threw kisses at him, and the mistresses and boys
who were near him kissed his hands and his arms. He opened
his eyes and said: ‘‘My satchel!’? The mother of the boy
who had been saved showed it to him and said: ‘I will bring
it for you, you angel, I will bring it for you.’’ In the mean-
time she was sustaining the mother of the wounded boy, who
covered her face with both hands. They went out, laid the
boy in the carriage, which was driven away. ‘Then we all
entered the class room silently,



THE CALABRIAN BOY
Saturday the 22nd.

Last evening, while the teacher was giving us the news of
poor Robetti—who will be compelled to walk on crutches for a
14 THE HEART OF A BOY

time—the principal entered the class room with a new pupil, a
boy with a brown face, black hair, big black eyes, and with
thick eyebrows which met between his eyes. He was dressed
in dark clothes with a black leather belt around his waist.
The principal, after whispering into the ear of the master, left
the boy with him. He looked at us with his big black eyes as
though he were frightened. Then the master took him by the
hand, and said to the class: ‘‘ You must congratulate your-
selves. ‘T'o-day there enters the school a little Italian boy, born
at Reggio di Calabria, more than five hundred miles away from
here. You must love your brother who comes from so far.
He was born in that glorious country which has given to Italy
many illustrious men, that still gives her strong workers and
brave soldiers; where there are great forests and high moun-
tains; one of the finest parts of our land, inhabited by people
full of talent and courage. Do love him in a way that will .
make him forget that he is far away from the place where he
was born. Demonstrate to him that an Italian boy, no matter
in what Italian school he may be placed, will find brothers
there.” After saying this, he arose and pointed out on the
wall map of Itely the place where Reggio di Calabria is situ-
ated. ‘Then he called: 5

‘‘ Ernest Derossi,” the one who always gets the first prize.
Derossi stood up. :

‘Come here,” said the master. Derossi left the bench and
went and stood by the desk opposite the Calabrian boy.

‘ Ag the first in the school,” said the master, ‘‘ give a wel-
come to your new companion, the welcome of a boy of Pied-
mont to the son of Calabria.”

Derossi embraced the Calabrian boy, saying with his clear
voice, ‘‘ Welcome!’’ and the latter kissed him on both cheeks
with impetuosity. All clapped their hands. ‘* Silence! ’’ cried
the master; ‘“‘one does not clap hands at school ;’’ but one

could see that he was happy; the Calabrian boy was also happy.


He pointed to Keggio ai Calabria on the wall map of Ttaly.
THE HEART OF A BOY 15

The master assigned him his place and accompanied him to
his desk, then he said:

‘‘Remember what I am about to tell you. In order that a
Calabrian boy might be at home in Turin, and that a boy of
Turin be welcome in Reggio di Calabria, our country fought for
fifty years and thirty thousand Italians died. You must respect
each other, love each other, and any one who would offend his
class-mate because he was not born in our province would
rende: himself ever unworthy to raise his eyes when the flag
of our country passes.’’

As soon as the Calabrian boy was seated in his place, his
neighbors presented him with some pens and a picture, and
another boy from the last bench sent him a rare Swedish post-
age stamp.

MY CLASSMATES
Tuesday the 25th.

The boy who sent the postage stamp to the Calabrian boy
is the one I like best. He is called Garrone; is the tallest of
the class, and is almost fourteen yearsold. Hehasa large head
and broad shoulders. He is good, one can see that when he
smiles, but it seems to me that he is all the time thinking like
_ aman. I already know the names of my classmates. ‘There
‘is another one I like; his name is Coretti, and he wears a knit-
ted chocolate colored coat and a cat-skin cap. He is always

jolly; he is the son of a huckster of wood, who was a soldier in
the war of *66, in the army of Prince Humbert, and I have

heard he has three medals. There is little Nelli, a hunchback,

a frail boy with a pale face. There is one very well dressed,
who wears fine velvet and who is called Votini. On the bench
near me there is a boy whom they call ‘‘The Little Mason”
because his father isa mason. His face is round like an apple,
his nose is like a ball, and he has a particular skill for making
the ‘‘ hare’s face.’ He wears a little soft hat which he dou-
- bles up like a handkerchief and putsin his pocket. Next to the
16 THE HEART OF A BOY

Little Mason, there is Garoffi, a tall, thin fellow with a nose
like an owl’s beak and very small eyes. He is always trading
marbles,. pictures, match boxes, and stamps. He writes his
lessons on his nails to read when the teacher is not watching
“him. ‘There is also a little gentleman called Carlo Nobis. He
looks as though he were rather proud, and he sits between two
boys whom I like very much; one is the son of a blacksmith
ironmonger. He wears a big coat which reaches down to his
knees, seems fearful of saying much and never laughs. The
other is a lad with red hair who has a withered arm which he
carries in asling suspended from hisneck. His father has gone
to America, and his mother goes around selling green vegetables.
_ Stardi, my neighbor on the left, is a.curious type. Heisa
little fellow, heavily built, a grumbler who never speaks to
any one and seems to understand very little. He pays atten-
tion to the teacher without winking, with his forehead wrinkled
and his teeth shut tight. If spoken to while the master speaks,
the first and second time he does not answer, but the third time
he kicks. He has next-to him a boy with a shrewd face. His
name is Franti, and he has already been expelled from another
school. ‘There are also two brothers who look as much alike
as two. drops of water. They both wear hats Calabrian in
style with a pheasant feather stuck in the top. But the hand-
somest and most talented one of all, he who will surely be the
first this year, is Derossi; and the teacher, who has already
comprehended this, questions him all the time. However, I
like Precossi, the son of the blacksmith ironmonger, the boy
who wears the long jacket, and who looks so scared ; they say his
father beatshim. Heisvery timid, and every time he questions
or touches any one, he says ‘‘ Excuse me,’’ and looks up with
his sad, gentle eyes. But Garrone is the bravest and the best.



A NOBLE ACTION.
Wednesday the 26th.
Garrone made himself known this morning. When I
THE HEART OF A BOY ee els?

entered the school (a little late, as I had been stopped by
my old teacher of the first grade, who asked me at what time
she might come to see us at home) the teacher had not yet
arrived, and three or four boys were tormenting poor Crossi,
the one with red hair, who has a paralyzed arm and whose
mother sells green vegetables. They would poke him with
rulers, throw chestnut burrs in his face, and call him ‘‘ cripple ’”’
and “‘ monster,’’ mimicking him as he appeared with his with-
ered arm suspended by the sling from his neck. He was all
alone at his end of the bench looking like a dead person, and
was listening, looking first at one and then at another with
supplicating eyes, beseeching them to let him alone, but they
ridiculed him still more and he commenced to tremble and
tedden with rage. All of a sudden Franti, the one with the
ugly face, jumped on the bench, pretending that he was carry-
ing two baskets'on his arms, aping Crossi’s mother as she used
to come and wait for her son at the door; for now she is ill.
Many began to laugh loudly. Then Crossi lost his head, and
grasping an ink-stand he threw it with all his might at the head
of Franti, who dodged it, and it struck the chest of the teacher,
who was just entering the school room. The boys all scam-
pered to their places and were silent and frightened.

The teacher, pallid, ascended to his desk and in an altered
voice asked :

“Who did it?”

No one answered.

The teacher looked again, raising his voice, ad demanded :
“© Who did it?”

Then Garrone, moved with pity for poor Crossi, rose with
a dash and said, resolutely: ‘“‘It wasI.” |

The teacher looked at him, and then at the other pupils, as
though stupified, and said in a tranquil voice: ‘‘No, it was
not you.”’

After a moment, he added: ‘‘ The guilty one will not be
punished; let him rise.’’
18 THE HEART OF A BOY

Crossi rose and said, crying: ‘‘ They were beating me,
they were insulting me, and I lost my head and threw ne

“ Sit down,” said the teacher. ‘‘’Those who provoked him
rise up.”’ :

Four arose with bowed heads.

‘‘Vou,’? said the teacher, ‘‘ you have insulted a companion
who did not provoke you; you have marked an unfortunate
boy, tormented a weak one who could not defend himself. You
have committed one of the lowest acts, one of the most shame-
ful that can stain a human creature. Cowards!”’

Having said this, he descended among the benches, put a
hand under Garrone’s chin, who sat with his head down, mak-
ing him raise his face; he looked straight into his eyes and
said: ‘‘ You are a noble soul!”’

Garrone, profiting by the moment, murmured something in
the ear of the master, who turned toward the guilty ones and
said: ‘‘I forgive you.”



MY SCHOOL MISTRESS OF THE UPPER FIRST

Thursday the 27th.

My old teacher has kept her word. She called at the house
to-day, just as I was going out with my mother to take wash-
ing to a poor woman mentioned in the paper. It was a year
since we had seen her in our home, and we all greeted her
cheerfully. She is not changed; still the same little woman
with a large green veil around her head, plainly dressed and
her hair carelessly arranged. She has no time to make herself
look nice. She has a little less color than she had last year,
has some white hair, and coughs all the time. My mother said
to her:

‘‘Dear teacher, you do not take good care of yourself.’’

‘‘Oh, never mind,’’ she answered with a pleasant, but
melancholy smile. :


Then Garroni said resolutely: “Tt was 1.”
THE HEART OF A BOY 19

‘“You strain your voice so,’’ suggested my mother. ‘‘ You:
do too much for the boys.’’

it is true one can always hear her voice. I remember
when I was going to her school, she always spoke so that the
boys would not become inattentive, and she would not remain
seated for a moment. I was very sure she would come be-
cause she never forgets her pupils. She remembers their
names year by year, and on the days of the monthly examina-
tion, runs to the principal to ask how many points they have
made. She waits for them at the exit and has them show their
compositions to see whether they have made progress. Some
of the boys from the high school, who wear long trousers and
carry a watch, still come to see her. ‘To-day she was return-
ing, all out of breath, from the Pinacoteca (picture gallery)
where she had taken her boys. Last year she took her pupils
every Thursday to a museum and explained everything to them.
Poor mistress; she has grown thinner than of old, but she is
still lively. She always becomes animated when any one
speaks to her of the school. She wished to see again the bed
where she beheld me sick two years ago, and which is now my
brother’s; she looked at it for awhile and could not speak. She
could not stay long as she had to go and visit a boy of her
class who is sick with the measles, the son of a saddler close by.
Besides, she had a bundle of papers to correct? an evening’s
work, and two private lessons in arithmetic to give to a woman
who keeps a shop, before night came.

‘“Well, Enrico,’’ she said to me when going, ‘‘do you still
love your mistress, now that you are able to solve a difficult
problem and can write a long composition?’’ She kissed me
and called up from the bottom of the stairs: ‘‘ Do not forget
me, Enrico!’

Oh, my good mistress, never, never will I forget you.
When I am a big fellow, I will still remember you and will go
to see you among your boys, and every time I pass neara
school and hear the voice of a mistress, it will seem to me that
20 THE HEART OF A BOY

I hear your voice, and I will live over again the two years
which I spent in your school, where I learned many things;
where I saw you so many times so sick and tired, yet always
so cheerful, so intelligent, and in despair if one acquired some
bad way of holding the pen; trembling when the examiner
questioned us, happy when we made a good showing; always
good, always loving like a mother. Never, never, will I forget
you, my mistress!

IN AN ATTIC
Friday the 28th.

Last evening, my mother, sister and I went to take some
clothes to a poor woman recommended for charity by the
fs newspaper. I carried the
WAN parcel and Silvia had the
newspaper with the initials
of her name, and the ad-
dress. We went up under
the roof of a high house,
a“ through a long corridor
‘| Wa with many doors. My
: mother knocked at the last
one and a woman opened
it; she was a blonde, still
young but thin. It oc-
cured to. me at once that I
had seen her somewhere
before with that same blue
handkerchief worn on her
head.
; “Are you the woman
mentioned in the newspaper as so and so?’’ asked my mother.
‘‘Ves, Signora, I am.’’
“Well, we have brought you some clothes.’? Then the






THE HEART OF A BOY 21

woman began so thank and bless us without end. In the mean-
while, I saw in a corner of the bare, dark room, a boy kneeling
before a chair with his back turned toward us ; he looked as
though he were writing, and he was, indeed, writing, with his
paper on the chair.

“How can he write in the dark?’’ While I said this to
myself, I suddenly recognized the red hair and jean jacket of
Crossi, the boy with the paralyzed arm, the son of the vegeta-
ble vender. I told it softly to my mother, while the woman
was putting away the clothes.

‘“‘Hush,’’ said my mother. ‘‘ Maybe he is ashamed to see
you because you bestow charity on his mother; do not call
him.”

“At that moment, Crossi turned around and I felt embar-
rassed ; he smiled, and my mother gave me a push to make me
run and embrace him. I did so, and-he arose to his feet and
took my hand. ‘Then his mother said :

“Tam here all alone with this boy ; my husband has been
in America for six years; besides, I am sick so that I cannot
go around selling green vegetables and earn a few soldz. I
have not even a table left, upon which my poor little Luigino
can do his work. When I had a bench down at the door, he
could at least write on that; but even that has been taken
away, and he has not even a little light by which to study
without ruining his eyes. It is fortunate for me that I can
send him to school, as the municipality provides him with
books and copy-books. Poor little Luigino, who would study
so willingly. Miserable woman that I am.”

My mother gave her the contents of het purse and kissed
the boy, who almost cried when we left. She did right to tell
me: ‘Look at the poor boy, how he is obliged to work ; and
you, you have all the comforts and still study seems hard to
you. Ah, my Enrico, there is more in one day of his work
than ina year of yours. Such pupils ought to be given the
first prize.’ :
22 THE HEART OF A BOY

THE SCHOOL

Yes, dear Enrico, study is hard, as thy mother tells thee.
Yet, I do not see thee go to school with that resolute mind and
smiling face, as I would like. Thou art still stubborn ; but, listen,
think a little how miserable and despicable thy days would be of
thou didst not go to school! At the end of a week thou wouldst
ask with clasped hands to return again, wearied by annoyance and
shame, tired of thy new toys, and of thy own existence. Every-
body studies now, Enrico. Think of the workmen who go to
school in the evening, after having worked all day; of the women |
and girls of the laboring cass, who go to school on Sunday, after
having worked all week , of the soldiers who take up their reading
and writing books after they return tired from their drilling;
think of the deaf and dumb boys and of the blind, who also
study ; even prisoners learn to read and write. Think in the
morning, when thou goest out, that on that very morning, in thy
own town, there are thirty thousand boys, going like thyself, to
shut themselves in for three hours in order to study. Thenagain!
Think of the innumerable crowds of boys who go to school about
the same hour in all countries. Think of them—in thy imagt-
nation, while they are going—going through village by-ways,
through noisy streets, along the shores of the sea and of the lakes,
through the mist or under the burning sun; in little boats, in
countries where there are canals, on horseback through great
prairies, in sleighs over the snow, over mountains and hills,
through woods and across torrents, up through solitary paths of
the mountains; alone, in couples, in groups, in long files, all with
books under their arms, clothed in a thousand different costumes.
speaking a thousand different tongues, from the remotest schools
of Russia, almost lost in the ice, to the remotest schools of Arabia
shaded with palm trees; millions and millions, all going to learn
the same things in a hundred different ways. Imagine these vast
multitudes of boys from hundreds of nations, this immense move-
ment of which you form a part. And know that af this movement
were to cease, humanity would fall back into barbarism. This




































































a0



/n a few rough words the child told his story.
THE HEART OF A BOY 23

2

movement ts the progress, the hope, the glory of the world,
fave courage then, thou little soldier of this immense army.
Thy books are thy weapons, the whole world thy field of battle; and
the victory ts human civilization. Do not be a cowardly soldier,
my Enrico. Thy Father.

THE LITTLE PATRIOT OF PADUA
(MONTHLY STORY.)
Saturday the 29th.

No, I will not be a ‘‘ cowardly soldier,’ but I would go to
school more willingly if the teacher would tell us a story every
day like the one he tald us this morning. He says he will tell
us one every month. He will give it to us in writing, and it
will always be a tale of noble and true acts performed by a |
boy. ‘The Little Patriot of Padua’’ is the title of this. Here
it is:

A French steamer left Barcelona, a city in Spain, for
Genoa. ‘There were on board Frenchmen, Italians, Spaniards,
and Swiss. There was among the others a boy of eleven,
apparently quite alone, who kept himself aloof like a savage.
And no wonder he looked at every one with forbidding eyes.
Two years previous to this, his father had sold him to the
master of a company of mountebanks, who after having taught
him to perform tricks by dint of beatings, kicks and fasting,
had taken him across France and Spain, abusing him very
often and never giving him enough to eat.

Arriving at Barcelona, no longer able to stand the ill-treat-
ments and hunger, reduced to a pitiable state, he had run
away from his tormenters and had gone to ask protection of
the Consul of Italy, who moved with pity, had put him on
board that steamer, giving him a letter to the chief of police in
Genoa, who was ordered to send him back to the parents whe
had sold him like a beast. bee
24 THE HEART OF A BOY

The poor boy was ragged and sickly looking. They had
given him a second-class cabin. All looked at him, some
questioned him, but he did not answer, and seemed to hate and
despise everyone. So much privation and so many blows had
irritated and spoiled him. ‘Three of the passengers, however,
by insisting with their questions had succeeded in making him
loosen his tongue, and in a few rough words, a mixture of
Venetian, Spanish and French, he told hisstory. Those three
passengers were not Italians; but they understood him, and
partly from compassion, more because excited by wine, they
gave him a few soldi, joking, jesting, and urging him to tell
them more. Several ladies having entered the salon at that
moment, two or three of them, for the purpose of making a
show of themselves, gave him some more money, crying:
. ‘Take this, take that,” and making the money sound upon
the table.

The boy pocketed everything, thanking them in a subdued
voice in his brusque manner, but with a look for the first time
smiling and affectionate. Then he climbed up to his berth,
pulled the curtains, and remained thinking of his own affairs.
With that money he could enjoy a good meal on board, after
two years of starvation! He could buy himself a jacket, as
soon ‘as he landed in Genoa. For two years he had gone
dressed.in rags! He could also take some home, and be re-
ceived by his father and mother a little more humanely than if
he arrived there penniless. It was a little fortune for him. He
was thinking of all this and taking comfort in his thoughts be-
hind the curtain of his cabin, while the three passengers were
talking, seated at the dining table in the middle of the second-
class salon. They were drinking and talking about their trav-
els and of the countries they had visited, going from one topic
to another. At last, they began to discuss Italy. One com-
menced to complain about the hotels, another about the rail-
roads; and then, growing warmer, they all began to abuse
everything. ‘‘ One would prefer to travel in Lapland,”’ said


A tempest of coins fell upon their heads.
THE HEART OF A BOY 25

one; another, ‘“‘had found in Italy none but swindlers and
brigands.’’ The third added that Italian officials did not know
how to read.

“An ignorant people,”’ repeated the first.

“A filthy people,” quoth the second,

‘Rob ” exclaimed the third, meaning to say robbers,
but could not finish his word. A tempest of soldi and half-lire
fell upon their heads and shoulders and leaped upon the table
and floor, making a great noise. All three arose at once,
looking up, and received another handful of coin upon their
faces -

“Take back your soldi,” said the boy disdainfully, looking
out between the curtains of his berth, ‘‘I do not accept alms
from those who insult my country!’?



NOVEMBER

THE CHIMNEY SWEEP
Tuesday the rst.

Last evening, I went to the girls’ school building, next to
our own, in order to give the story of the boy from Padua to
Silvia’s teacher, who wanted to read it. There are seven
hundred girls in this school! When I arrived, they were just
coming out, all happy on account of the vacation of All Souls’
day, and something beautiful took place before my eyes. In
front of the door of the school, on the other side of the street,
a chimney sweep stood, leaning with his head on his arm
against the wall. He was a very small lad, all black in the
face, with his bag and scraper, and he was crying and sobbing
as though his heart would break. ‘Two or three of the girls
of the second grade approached him and asked:

““What is the matter with you? Why do you cry in this
way?’’ But he did not answer and kept on crying.
26 - THE HEART OF A BOY

“But tell us, why do you weep?’’ repeated the girls.
Then he raised his head from his arm, showing the face of a
Baby) and said,weeping: ‘‘I have beenin many houses to sweep
the chimneys and earned thirty soldi; but
I have lost them, they slipped through a
hole in miy pocket,’’ and he showed the
pocket which had a rip init. He further
said that he did not dare go home without
the money.

‘The master will beat me,’’ he sobbed,
— and again dropped his head on his arm,
as though he were in deep despair. The
girls stopped a moment and looked at
‘him sorrowfully. In the meanwhile,
other girls had gathered around him,
rich and poor, with their satchels on their
4) arms. One, who hada blue feather in
‘Jj, her hat, pulled from her pocket two
* soldi and said:

‘«T have nothing but two soldi, let us
make a collection.”’

“‘T also have two soldi,” said another
dressed in red, ‘‘ we will be able.to find thirty among all of
us,’? and they began to collect, calling aloud: ‘‘ Amalia!
Luigia! Annina! A soldo! Who has any soldi? Here are
the soldi.”

Some of them fad! soldi with which fo buy flowers and’
writing books, and they gave them. Others, smaller ones, gave
some centesimi, and the one with the blue feather collected
everything and counted in a loud voice:

‘Bight, ten, fifteen ;’? but more was needed. Then, one of
the largest of them appeared; she looked like a young lady,
and gave a half-lira, and all began to cheer her. Still five
soldi were lacking.

‘Now some of the fourth grade are coming, and they have


- THE HEART OF A BOY Diy,

)

some,’’ said one. Those of the fourth class came, and the
soldi fell down in ashower. They all hurried forward eagerly.
It was a fine sight to see that poor chimney sweep in the midst
of those girls, dressed in so many different colors; it looked
like a whirl of feathers, ribbons and girls. ‘The thirty soldi
had been collected, and more were giving; the little ones who
had no money would make their way among the larger ones,
throwing him their bouquets of flowers in order that they
might give something. All of a sudden the janitress came out
crying:

‘The signora directress!’’ ‘The girls scampered away on
all sides like a flock of birds, and, at that moment, the little
chimney sweep was seen standing alone in the middle of the
street, wiping his eyes. He was happy with his hands full of
money, and he had.in the button holes of his jacket, in his
pockets, and on his hat, bouquets of flowers, and there were
some on the ground at his feet.

ALL-SOULS DAY
Wednesday the 2d.

This day ts consecrated to commemorate the dead. Dost thou
‘know, Enrico, to whose death you boys should dedicate a thought
on thisday? To those who have died for you—for boys and for
all children. How many have died, and how many are continu-
ally dying! Hast thou ever thought how many fathers have
worn out their lives by toiling? How many mothers have de-
scended into their graves before their time, used up by privation
to which they had condemned themselves for the sake of sustain-
ing their children? Dost thou know how many men put a knife
in their hearts, in despair, rather than see their children in mis-
ery, and how many women drown themselves, or die of grief, or
go insane because they have lost a child? Think of all these dead
28 THE HEART OF A. BOY

ones on this very day, Enrico, Think, too, of the many school-
mistresses who have died. young, who were consumed by the
fatigues of the school, for the love of children, whom they had
not the heart to leave. Think of the many physicians who
have died from contagious diseases, having courageously sac-
vificed themselves to cure children. Think, too, of all those
who have perished in shipwrecks, in fires, in times of famine,
who in the supreme moment of danger have yielded to infancy the
last morsel of bread, the last hope of escape, the last place of
safety, and who expire, glad of their sacrifice, since they have
saved the life of a little innocent. They are innumerable, En-
rico. Every cemetery contains hundreds of these sainted beings.
Lf they could rise a moment fron their graves, they would cry the
name of some child for whom they sacrificed the joys of youth, the
peace of old age, all affection, their intelligence, their life; young
mothers of twenty, men in the bloom of youth, octogenarians, old
women, young men; heroic and obscure martyrs to infancy; so
many who were great and noble, that the earth does not produce
flowers enough to cover theiy graves. Think to-day with grati-
tude of those dead, and thou wilt be better and more affectionate
to those who live and toil for thee, dear fortunate son, who in the
' Day of the Dead’ hast no one for whom to weep.
Thy Mother.

°

MY FRIEND GARRONE
friday the ath.

‘There were only two days of vacation, and yet it seems to
me such a long time since I have seen Garrone. The more I
know him, the better I like him, and it is so with all the others
except those who are overbearing and are not friendly toward
him, because he does not allow them to indulge their oppres-
sion. Every time any one of them raises his hand over a little
fellow the little fellow cries: ‘‘ Garrone!’ and the big boy
does not strike him any more. His father is an engineer on
THE HEART OF A BOY ; 29

the railroad. He commienced late to go to school because he
was ill for two years. He is the tallest and strongest of the
class; he can raise a bench with one hand. He eats all the
time. He is good; one may ask anything of him, chalk,
rubber, paper, or pen-knife ; he lends or gives everything away,
and he never whispers or laughs in school. He keeps quiet on
his bench,—which is rather narrow for him,—with his back
bent and his head bowed. When I look at him, he smiles with
his eyes half closed as though he would say: ‘‘ Well, Enrico,
are we friends?’’ But he makes me laugh. ‘Tall and big as
he is, he wears a jacket, trousers, sleeves, everything too small
for him; a hat that will hardly set on his head, thick shoes, a
cravat tied like a string around his neck, and he has his hair
clipped. Poor Garrone, to look into his face is to like him.
All the little ones like to sit near him. He knows his arith-
metic well. He carries his books in a pile bound with a strap of
red leather. He hasa knife with mother-of-pearl handle which
he found last year in the field for military manceuvring, and
once he cut his finger to the bone with it ; but no one at school
knew it and he said nothing at home for fear he might frighten
his parents. He takes with good naturé anything told him in
jest and he is never offended; but woe to the one who tells him:
“Ttisn’t true!’? When he affirms a thing, fire flashes from
his eyes, and he hammers upon the desk with his fist hard
enough to split it. Saturday morning, he gave a soldo toa boy
of the first upper, who was in the street, because some one had
stolen the boy’s soldo and he could not buy himself a copy-book.
Garrone has been working for three days, making a pen orna-
mentation around an eight-page letter for the ‘‘Saint’s Day”
of his mother, who often comes to take him home, and who is
tall and stout like him, and looks rather pleasant. ‘The teacher
always notices Garrone and every time he comes by him puts
his hand on hishead. Iam very fond of him. Iam sure,that
he would risk his life to save a companion, that he would allow
himself to be killed in order to defend him; one can see
30 THE HEART OF A BOY

this so clearly in his eyes ; and, although it seems as though he
always grumbles with his. big voice, it is unquestionably a voice
which comes from a kindly heart.



THE CHARCOAL MAN AND THE GENTLEMAN
Monday the 7th.

Garrorie would never have said what Carlo Nobis said yes-
terday morning to Betti. Carlo Nobis is vain because his
‘father is a grand signor, a tall gentleman who always wears a
full black beard, very serious looking, and who comes nearly
every day to accompany his son. Yesterday morning, Nobis
-quarreled with Betti, one of the smallest boys, the son of a
-charcoal man; and not knowing how to answer him, because
‘he was in the wrong, he said to him in a loud voice: ‘‘ Your
father is a worthless ragged man.’’ Betti grew red to the
roots of his hair and said nothing, but tears came to hiseyes,
and when he went home he repeated those words to his. father;
and, behold, the charcoal man, a little fellow, all black, ap-
peared at the school in the afternoon with the lad, in order to
make his complaint to the teacher. While he was telling his
grievance to the master, every one was quiet. The father of
Nobis, who was taking off his son’s overcoat on the threshold
of the door, as he usually does, hearing his name pronounced,
entered and asked an explanation. The master answered:
“It is this workman who comes here to complain because your
son Carlo said to his boy ‘ Your father is a worthless ragged
man.’ ”’

Nobis’ father frowned and blushed a little and then asked
his son, ‘‘ Did you say those words?’’ Carlostanding in front
of little Betti in the middle of the school room, with drooping
head, did not answer.

-Then his father took him by the arm and pushed him further
ahead, beside Betti, so that the two almost touched each other,
and said: ‘‘ Beg his pardon.”
THE HEART OF A BOY 81

The charcoal man tried to interfere, saying ‘‘ No, no,” but
_ the gentleman paid no heed, and repeated to his son, “ Beg his
pardon. ,

oy Repeat my words: ‘I beg to apologize for the insulting,
senseless and ignoble -words which I said against your father,
whose hand my father feels honored to grasp.”

‘The charcoal man made a gesture as if he would say, “I
will not,’’ but the gentleman paid no heed, and his son said
slowly, with a tremor in his voice, without raising his eyes
from the floor: ‘‘I beg to apologize for the insulting:
senseless——and ignoble words which I said against your
father, whose hand my father feels himself honored to grasp.”

Then the gentleman reached his hand to the charcoal mati,
who grasped it with force; and then suddenly pushed his son
into the arms of Carl Nobis. ;

‘““Do me the favor to put them next to each other,’’ said
the gentleman to the teacher. The teacher placed Betti
in Nobis’ bench, and when he saw them in their places, the
father of Nobis made a bow and left.

The charcoal man remained a few moments, standing there
in thought, looking at both boys; then he approached the
bench, looked at Nobis with an expression of affection and re-
gard, as if he wished to say something, but said nothing. He
stretched out his hand as if to give him a caress, but dared
not, and only stroked his brow with his large hand, then
started for the door, turning once more to look at him, and
departed.

‘““Remember well what you have seen, boys,’’ said the
teacher; ‘‘ this is the finest lesson of the year.’’







MY BROTHER’S SCHOOL MISTRESS
Thursday the roth

The son of the charcoal man was a pupil of Mistress Delcati.
who camé to-day to see my sick brother. She made us laugh by.
32 THE HEART OF A BOY

telling that the mother of that boy two years ago brought to her
home an armful of charcoal, to thank her because she had given
a medal to her son. The poor woman persisted in leaving it
and almost cried when she had to return home with her apron
full. ‘the mistress also told of another good woman, who
brought her a very large bouquet of flowers inside of which
there was a quantity of soldi. She amused us a great deal by
telling us stories, and my brother took his medicine which be-
fore he did not want to swallow. How much patience they
must have with those boys of the first grade, all without
teeth like the old men, who cannot pronounce either the r’s or
the s’s. One coughs, another has the nose bleed, and another
loses his shoes under the bench. ‘This one cries, because he
has pricked himself with a pen, and that one weeps, because
he has bought copy-book number two instead of number one.
. Fifty all in one class, who know nothing, with those little hands
like butter, who have to be taught to read and writé! They
carry in their pockets pieces of licorice, sugar, buttons, brick
dust, every kind of small articles, and the teacher is obliged
to go through their pockets, but they hide these things even
inside their shoes. They pay no attention; if a fly enters
through the window, it puts them all in confusion. In sum-
mer, they carry horn-bugs to school, which fly around and fall
into the ink-stands and stain the copy-books. with ink. The
mistress, who plays the part of mother toward them, must help
them to dress, bandage the fingers that are pricked, pick up
the caps that fall, take heed that they do not exchange their
. coats, or else they indulge in cat-calls and shrieks. Poor
school mistress, and besides some of the mothers will go and
complain: ‘‘ How is it, madam, that my child has lost his
pen?’ “How is it that mine does not learn anything?’
‘Why don’t you give the prize to my boy, who knows so
much?’’? ‘‘ Why don’t you have the nail which has torn the
trousers of my Piero taken out of the bench ?’’

At times, my brother’s mistress gets angry at the boys, and
THE HEART OF A BOY 33

when she can endure it no longer, she bites her finger in order
not to give a blow. She loses her patience and then she
repents, caresses the child who has been scolded, sends the
little rogue out of the school, and then stops her own tears.
She gets angry with the parents, who, in order to punish their
children, compel them to fast. Mistress Delcati is young and
tall, has a dark complexion, and dresses well. She is so restless
and nervous that she is affected by a mere trifle. She speaks
with a great deal of tenderness.

“But at least the children are attached to you?’ my
mother asked. ‘‘Some are,’’ she answered, ‘‘ but when the
year is over, the greater part do not look at me any more.
When they are with the male teachers they are ashamed to
have been with a school mistress. After two years of cares,
after we have loved a child so much, it issad to be separated
from him; we say: ‘ Oh, I am sure of that one, he will love me. '
But, the vacation over, we return to school, we run to meet
him: ‘Oh, my child, my child!’ and he turns his head the
other way.”? At this point, the mistress was interrupted.
‘But you-will not do this, little fellow?” she said ; then arose
with her eyes full of tears and kissed my brother, ‘‘ You will
» not turn your head the other way, will you? You will not -
deny your poor old friend?’

MY MOTHER

Ln the presence of thy brother's preceptress thou hast failed to
respect thy mother! Let thisnot happen again, my Enrico, never,
never again! Thy irreverent words entered my heart like a steel
blade. I was thinking of thy mother when, years ago, she stood
a whole night bent over thy little bed to watch for thy breath, cry-
ing with anguish, and shutting her teeth ti terror because she
thought she was going. to lose thee, and I was afraid she would
lose her mind; and I felt a sense of veproof for thee. Thou hast
offended thy mother! Thy mother, who would give a year of
34 THE HEART OF A BOY

happiness to spare thee an hour of sorrow, who would ask alms
for thee, who would allow herself to be killed to save thy life!
Listen, Enrico, fix this thought well in thy mind. Rememoer that
destiny has many troubles in store for thee. The greatest trouble
will come the day when thou wilt lose thy mother. A thousand
times, Enrico, when thou wilt be a man, strong, and hardened by
all the struggles of life, thou wilt be oppressed by a great desire to



hear again for one moment thy mother’s voice, to see again her
open arms ready to receive thee sobbing like a poor child without
protection and without comfort. Then thou wilt remember all
the bitterness thou hast caused her, and with what remorse wilt
thou pay for all, thou unhappy creature! Do not hope fer any
serentty tn thy life, if thou hast saddened thy mother. Thou wilt
repent, thou wilt ask her pardon, thou wilt venerate her memory,
all in vain, thy conscience will not grant thee peace. The sweetand
good image will always have for thee an expression of sadness and
THE HEART OF A BOY 35

reproach which will torture thy soul. Oh, Enrico, beware! This
zs the most sacred of human affections; woe to him who tramples
upon it! The assassin who respects his mother has still something
honest and chivalrous in his heart. The most famous of men
of he sadden and offend her ts a vile wretch. Nevermore let a
harsh word proceed from thy mouth for the one who gave thee
life. And, of another such word should escape thee, let it not be
the fear of thy father but the impulse of thy soul which will throw
thee at her feet to supplicate her, that with a kiss of forgiveness
she may erase from thy forehead the stain of ingratitude. TI love
thee, my son; thou art the dearest hope of my life; but I would
vather see thee dead than ungrateful to thy mother. Go, and for
a litile time do not offer me any of thy caresses. I could not ex-
_ change them in my heart. Thy Father.

MY COMPANION CORETTI
Sunday the 13th.

My father has forgiven me, but still I remain somewhat
sad. My mother sent me to take a walk through the Corso,
with the janitor’s. oldest son. Half way through, passing
near a truck standing before a shop, somebody called me. I
turned around; it was Coretti, my schoolmate, ali in a perspira-
tion, with his chocolate colored knitted jacket and. his catskin
cap, but merry, and carrying a load of wood on his shoulders.
A man standing on the truck handed him an armful of wood
at a time, which he would take and carry into his father’s
shop, where he would pile it up in a great hurry.

‘“What are you doing, Coretti?” I asked.

‘“Don’t you see?’’ he answered, holding out his arms to

take the wood. ‘‘I go over my lesson.”
I laughed, but he was speaking in earnest, and, having
taken his armful of wood, began saying while running: ‘‘ The

conjugation of the verb consists in its variations, agreeing in num-
ber——and person oa


36 THE HEART OF A BOY

And then throwing down the wood and piling it up: ‘Ac
cording to the time according to the time to which the action





refers 3
It was our grammar lesson for the next day. ‘‘ What
would you have me do?’’ hesaid. ‘‘ I make the most of my

time. My father has gone away on account of his business.
My mother is ill. I have to unload the wood. In the mean-
while I go over my grammar; it is a difficult lesson to-day. I
do not succeed in hammering it into my head. My father will
be here at seven to give you the soldi,’’ he then said to the
the truckman.

The truck moved away... ‘‘Go into the shop for a mo-
ment,’’? said Coretti. I entered. It was a large room full of
piles of wood and fagots, with a school desk on one side.

‘To-day is a day of rush, I assure you,” said Coretti., ‘‘I
have to do my work by fits and starts. I was writing about
the prepositions, and some one came to buy. I started to
write again, and the truck came. I have already taken two
trips to the wood market in the Piazza Venezia this morning.
Tam so tired I can hardly stand on my feet and my hands are
all swollen; I would be in a fine fix, indeed, if I had to do my
drawing task.’? As he spoke he began sweeping up the
dry leaves and little sticks which had fallen on the brick pave-
ment.

“But where do you do your work?” I asked Coretti.
‘Surely not here? ”’

““Come and see,’’ and he took me into a little room behind
the shop, which was used as a kitchen and dining room, with
a table in the corner where he had all his books and writing
material and the beginning of his lesson. ‘‘ By the way,” he
said, ‘‘I have left out the second answer: ‘ With leather one
makes shoes, belts,’ now I have it ‘valises.’ And tak-
ing his pen, he started to write in his beautiful hand-writing.

‘“Ts any one here?’’ some one cried at that moment from
the shop. It was a woman who came to buy some fagots.






fi was Coretti carrying a load of wood.
THE HEART OF A BOY 37

“* Here I am,’’ answered Coretti, and sprang from his place
to weigh the fagots. He took the soldi, ran into the corner to
register the sale in a copy-book, and returned to his work, say-
ing: ‘‘ Let’s see if I can finish this paragraph,” and he wrote:
“ Traveling bags and knapsacks for soldiers.” “‘Ah,”’ he said,
‘““My poor coffee is boiling over,” and he ran to the stove ta
take the coffee-pot from the fire. ‘It is the coffee for mamma,”
said he. ‘‘I had to learn to make coffee. Wait a moment,
and we will take it to her, so that she may see you; it will
give her pleasure. She has been sick in bed for seven days
Confound it! I always scald my fingers with that coffee pot.
What can I add after ‘knapsacks for soldiers?’ I must add
something more, and I cannot think of it. Come to mamma.”

He opened the door and we entered the room. ‘There was
the mother of Coretti in a large bed, with a white handkerchief
tied around her head.

“‘ Here is the coffee, mamma,” said Coretti, handing her
the cup. ‘‘ This is my schoolmate.”

‘Oh, what a fine signorino,’’ said the woman, ‘‘ you have
come to see the sick, isn’t it so?”

In the meantime, Coretti had fixed the pillows behind his
mother’s shoulders, and had put up the blankets of the bed, and
brightened the fire, and driven the cat away from the bureau
drawers.

“Is there anything more you wish, mamma?” he asked,
and took away the cup. ‘‘Did you take the two spoonfuls ot
syrup? When it is gone, I will go to the apothecary for
more. ‘The wood has been unloaded. At four o’clock I will
put the meat on the fire, as you have told me. When the but-
ter woman goes by, I will give her the eight soldi. Everything
will go well, do not fear.”

‘“Thanks, my son,” answered thewoman. “ My poor son!
he thinks of everything.”

She asked me to take a piece of sugar, and then Corretti
showed me a little picture, a photograph of his father dressed


38 THE HEART OF A BOY

like a soldier with the medal of valor that he had won in the
battle of ’66, in the army of Prince Humbert. His son looks
like him, with those lively eyes and that merry smile.
‘*T have found another,” said Coretti, and he added in his
- copy-book, ‘‘ One can make harnesses.’’ ‘‘'The balance I will
do this evening; I will sit up late. How happy you are to
have all your time to study; and then you can go promenading
besides.’’

He is always jolly. Re-entering the shop, he began to chop
wood upon a horse and sawed it in halves, saying: ‘‘ It is like
gymnastics, quite different from the ‘ Throw your arms for-
ward.’ J want my father to find all this wood sawed when he
returns and then he will be satisfied. ‘The worst of it is that
after I have sawed the wood, I make some t’s and 1’s which
‘look like serpents’ as the teacher says;but what else can I do?
I will tell him that I had to move my arms about. What I
most care for is that mamma may soon get well. Now she is
better, thank heaven! I shall study the grammar tomorrow
morning when the cock crows. Oh, here comes the wagon with
the logs. At work again!’? —

A wagon loaded with logs stopped in front of the shop.
Coretti ran out to speak to the man and then came back.
‘“Now, my comrade, I cannot keep you any longer; farewell
until tomorrow. You did well to come and see me. Pleasant
walk to you, you lucky fellow!’

He shook my hand and ran to take the first log and began
running between the wagon and the shop, with his face as fresh
as a rose under that cat-skin cap, and so bright that it was a
pleasure to look at him.

“Lucky fellow!’’ he said tome. Oh, good Coretti, no, it
is you who are fortunate; you, because you study and work
more than Ido, because you are more useful to your father

-and mother, because you are better than myself, a hundred
times better, and more brave than I am, my dear schoolmate.




That boy resembled perfectly his own lost son.
THE HEART OF A BOY 39

THE PRINCIPAL OF THE SCHOOL
friday the 8th,

Coretti was happy this morning because his master of the
second elementary came to assist with the work of the monthly
examination; Coatti is his name, a big man with thick crisp
hair, a black beard, black eyes, and a voice that thunders. He
always threatens to take the boys by the neck to the police
station, and makes all sorts of frightful faces, but he never
punishes any one; on the contrary, he always laughs in his
sleeve. With Coatti, there are eight more masters, including
a substitute, a little fellow who looks like a youth. There isa
master of the fourth class, who is muffled up in a large woolen
scarf, and is always complaining about his pains.. He took this
illness when he was master in a country school where the walls
were very damp. Another master of the fourth class is an old
man with white hair and beard, who has been a teacher of the
blind. ‘There is one who is always well dressed, with eye-
glasses and blonde mustache; he is called ‘‘ The Little Lawyer,”’
because while he was teaching he took a lawyer’s diploma,
and also got up a book to teach how to read and write. The
one who teaches us gymnastics is like a soldier. He has been
with Garibaldi and has on his neck the scar of a sabre wound
that he got at the battle of Milazzo. ‘Then comes the principal;
tall, bald headed, with a grey beard which comes down over
his chest. He has golden eye-glasses, and is all dressed in
black and buttoned up to the chin ; he is always so good to the
boys. When they enter his office trembling, having been sent
there for reproof, he does not scold them but takes them by the
hand and gives so many good reasons why they should not
have done what they did, why they must repent and promise
to be good, and he speaks in such a kind manner and with such
a sweet voice that they all leave him with red eyes; they are
more confused than if they had been punished. Poor principal,
he is always the first one at his place in the morning ; he waits


40 THE HEART OF A BOY

for the teachers and listens to the parents, and when the teachers
have started home, he keeps on the lookout to see that none of
the children fall under the carriages, and that they do not stop
in the street to play or to fill their satchels with sand and stones,
and every time he appears at the corner of a street, tall and
dark as he is, a crowd of boys scamper in all directions, stopping
suddenly the games with marbles and pens, and he threatens
with his index finger at a distance with a loving and sad air. ‘‘No
one has ever seen him laugh,’’ says my mother, ‘‘ since his son
died.’? ‘The son was a volunteer in the army, and the principal
always keeps his portrait before him upon the desk in his room.
He wanted to leave the school after his son’s death, and he
wrote his resignation to the municipality and kept it constantly
on his desk, waiting from day to day to send it, because he was
sorry to leave the children. ‘The other day, he seemed to be
decided, and my father, who was with him in the directors’
room, was saying to him: ‘‘ Whata pity that you go, signor
principal,’? when a man entered to have a boy enrolled, who
was coming from another school to ours because his parents had
moved. When he looked at that boy, the principal seemed
surprised. He looked at him for a moment and then at the
portrait which he keeps on his desk and then at the boy again,
and, drawing him between his knees, he made him raise his
face. ‘hat boy resembled perfectly his own lost son. ‘The
principal said ‘‘ All right,’’ wrote the name, and the father left.
He remained pensive. ‘‘ Whata pity that you should go,”’
repeated my father. The principal took his resignation, tore it
to pieces, and said: ‘‘I shall remain!”

THE SOLDIERS
Tuesday the 22a.

- His son was a volunteer in the army when he died, and
this is the reason the principal always goes to the Corso to see
the soldiers pass. When we cate out of school yesterday, an
THE HEART OF A BOY 41

infantry regiment was passing, and fifty boys began to jump
around the band, singing and keeping time with their rulers
on their satchels and portfolios. We stood in a group on the
sidewalk, looking; Garrone, squeezed in clothes too small for
him, and biting a large loaf of bread;
Votini, the well dressed one, who is -
always picking the hair from his
clothes; Precossi, the son of the black-
smith, wearing his father’s jacket; the
Calabrian boy; ‘‘the Little Mason”;
Crossi, with his red hair; Franti, with
his tough face, and Robetti, the son of
an artillery captain, the one who saved
the boy from the omnibus and who
now walks on crutches. Franti
laughed in the face of a soldier who
was limping. Suddenly he felt a
man’s hand on his shoulder. He
turned around; it was the principal.
‘Look here” said the principal; ‘‘to
jest at a soldier when he is in the
ranks and can neither revenge him-
self nor auswer is like insulting a man
when he is bound up; it is acowardly act.”

Franti disappeared. The soldiers were passing four by
four, perspitring and covered with dust, and their guns were
gleaming in the sun. ‘‘ You must always wish well to the
soldiers, boys,’’ said the principal. ‘‘’They are our defenders;
they would die for us, if to-morrow a foreign army should
threaten our country. ‘They are also boys—a few years older
than you are, and they also go to school, and there are among
them poor and rich people, as among yourselves. They come
from all parts of Italy. Look at them; one can almost recog-
nize them from their faces: the Sicilians, the Sardinians, the
Neapolitans, the Lombards. This is an old regiment, one of




42 THE HEART OF A BOY

those which fought in 1848. The soldiers are no longer the
same, but the flag is. How many died for our country around
that flag twenty years before you were born !”’ ;

‘* Here it comes,’’ said Garrone. And, in fact, one could
see at a little distance the flag which came first above the
heads of the soldiers.: The principal said: ‘‘ Boys, make the
pupil’s salute with the hand to the forehead when the tricolor
passes.”’

The flag, carried by an officer, passed in front of us; it was
all torn and faded, but there were medals hanging on the
staff. We put our hands to our foreheads all together. The
officer looked at us, smiled. and returned the salute with his
hand.

“Good, boys!’’ said a man behind us. We turned to look
and saw an old man who had in the buttonhole of his coat the
blue ribbon of the Crimean campaign; a pensioned officer.
‘* Bravo!’’ he said; ‘‘ you have done a noble act,’’

In the meanwhile, the band turned at the end of the Corso,
surrounded by a crowd of boys, and a hundred merry shouts
accompanied the blast of the trumpets like a war cry.
‘*Bravo!’’ repeated the old officer. ‘‘ He who respects the
flag when he is small, will know how to defend it when he is
grown up.’’

THE PROTECTOR OF NELLI
Wednesday the 23rd.

Poor Nelli was also looking at the soldiers yesterday—poor
little hunchback—with a look as though he were saying: ‘‘I
shall never be asoldier!’’ He is good and studious, but he is
thin and sickly looking and breathes with a good deal of diffi-
culty. He wears a long black shining linen apron. His mother
. is a little blonde lady, dressed in black. She always calls for
him when the school is over; as, in the confusion, he would not
go out with the other boys, and she caresseshim. ‘The first






The band... surrounded by a crowd of boys.
THE HEART OF A BOY 43

days of school, as he has the misfortune to be hunchbacked,
many of the boys laughed at him and beat him upon the back
with their satchels; but he never turned around, and said noth-
ing to his mother about it, because he did not wish to cause
her the pain of knowing that her son was the laughing
stock of his companions. When they derided him, he would
cry silently, leaning his forehead on the desk.

But this morning, Garrone sprang up and said: ‘‘If any
one touches Nelli, I will give him such a blow that he will spin
three times around.”

Franti paid no attention, and he received a blow which made
him reel. Since that time no one has touched Nelli. ‘The
teacher placed Garrone near him, upon the same bench, and
they have become fast friends. Nelli is very much devoted to
Garrone; as soon as he enters the school room, he looks where
Garrone sits, and he never goes away without saying: ‘‘ Good
bye, Garrone,’’ and Garrone does the same with him. When
Nelli drops his pen or book under the bench, Garrone at once
bends down and hands it to him. He also helps him to put
his things in the satchel and to put on his overcoat. Because
of this, Nelli likes him and looks at him constantly, and when
the master praises Garrone, Nelli is happy

Nelli must at last have told his mother everything about
the ridicule which he suffered those first days, and also about
the companion who took his part and of whom he h:s grown
fond. Hereis what happened this morning. The teacher
sent me to take the programme of the lesson to the principal
half an hour before the time for school to close, and I was in
the office when a blonde lady, dressed in black, entered. It
was Nelli’s mother, and she said: ‘‘ Signor principal, is there
a boy in my son’s class by the name of Garrone?’’

“There is,’? answered the principal.

“Will you have the kindness to send for him for a mo-
ment, as I wish to speak to him?’’

‘The principal called the beadle and sent him into the class;
44 . THE HEART OF A BOY

and, after a minute, Garrone, with his thick, crisp hair, ap-
peared at the door, looking as though he were amazed. As
soon as she saw him, the lady went to meet him, threw her




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hands on his shoulders and kissed him many times on the fore-
head, saying: ‘‘ You are Garrone, the friend of my child, the
protector of my dear son; it is you, dear boy, it is you!”
Then she searched hastily in her purse and inher pockets, and,
not finding anything, she detached a chain with a little cross,
from her neck, and said: ‘‘Take it, wear it as a memento,
dear boy, in memory of Nelli’s mother who thanks you and
embraces you.”’ ;

—_—-

THE FIRST OF THE CLASS

Garrone has won the affection of every one and Derossi the
admiration. Derossi: has won the first medal and will always
THE HEART OF A BOY , 45

be the first: ‘This year there is no one who is able to compete
with him. The boys all recognize his superiority in all the dif
ferent branches. He is the first in arithmetic, in grammar, in
composition, and in drawing. He understands everything at
a glance; has a marvelous memory; succeeds in everything
without making any effort. It seems as though study were
mere play for him. The teacher told him yesterday: ‘‘God
has endowed you very generously; you must not waste what
has been bestowed upon you.’’ Besides all this, he is the tallest
and handsomest boy of the class, with a large crown of blonde
curls. He isso nimble that he can jump over the bench by
laying one hand upon it, and he knows how to fence. He is
the son of a merchant, and always dresses in blue clothes with
gilt buttons on them. He is twelve years old, always jolly,
and he is polite to every one, arid tries to help all the other
boys at the time of examination, and no one has ever dared to
play a trick upon him or call hima bad name. Only Nobis
and Franti look at him askance. . Votini looks at him with
envy, but he does not even notice it. They all smile at him
and take him by the hand when he comes around in his grace-
ful way. He gives away illustrated newspapers and drawings
—everything which they give him at home. He has drawn
a geographical map of Calabria for the little Calabrian boy.
He is like a grand signor and shows no favoritism.
It is impossible not to envy him and not to feel beneath
-him in everything. I envy him myself, like Votini. I expe-
rience a certain bitterness and spitefulness against him, some-
times when I am striving to do my work at home, and think
at that hour he has already done his correctly and without
fatigue. But then, when I return to school and see him so
handsome, smiling, and triumphant, and hear him answer all
the questions put to him, in a frank, assured way, and see how
polite he is to every one, and how all look at him, then all the
bitterness, all the spite goes out of my heart, and I feel
ashamed of having felt such emotions. I would like to be near
46 THE HEART OF A BOY

him always; I would like to go through all the classes with
him; his presence, his voice gives me courage, and I feel a
desire to work.

The teacher has given him the monthly story to copy,
which will be read to-morrow. Itis “The Little Vidette of
Lombardy.’? When he was copying it this morning he seemed
moved by that heroic deed. His face was all aflame, his eyes
were full of tears, and his mouth trembled. I was watching
him; how handsome and noble he looked? With what pleas-
ure would I have told him frankly to his face: ‘‘ Derossi, you
have worked more than I have. You are a man compared
to me, and I respect and admire you.”



THE LITTLE VIDETTE OF LOMDARDY
(MONTHLY STORY)

Saturday the 26th.







for the liberation of Lombardy—a
8 few days before the battle of Solfe-
rino and San Martino, won by the
French and the Italians, united
against the Austrians—on a beauti-
ful morning in the month of June a
“ little troop of cavalry of Saluzzo was moving slowly through a
solitary path, toward the enemy, reconnoitering the country as


THE HEART OF A BOY 47

they went. The troop was commanded by an officer and a
sergeant, and all spied into the distance before them with eager
eyes, silent, expecting every moment to see the white uniforms
of the advance post of the enemy shimmering through the trees.
‘They caine to a hut surrounded by ash trees, in front of which
was a boy about twelve years old, standing alone, removing
the bark from a small branch with a knife. From the window
of the house floated a large tricolored flag, but no one was
inside. Having hoisted the flag, all had run away, fearing
the Austrians. As soon as the boy saw the cavalrymen, he
threw away his stick and took off his hat. He was a fine-
looking lad with a brave face, large blue eyes, and long blonde
hair. He was in his shirt sleeves and his shirt was unfastened,
showing his bare chest. ied

‘‘ What are you doing here?’’ asked the officer, stopping
his horse. ‘‘ Why did you not run away with your family ?’”’

‘‘T have no family,’ answered the boy. ‘‘I am a found-
ling. I work a little for every one, and I remained here to
see the war.”

‘‘ Have you seen the Austrians pass?’”’

‘* Not for the last three days.”

The officer sat thinking a moment, then dismounted from
his horse; and, leaving the soldiers turned toward the foe, he
entered the house and went up on the roof ‘The house was
low and from the roof only a little stretch of the country could
be seen. ‘‘It is necessary to climb the trees,’’ said the officer,
and came down. Justin front of the yard there was a lofty,
slender ash tree, which was rocking its top in the sky. The
officer stood lost in thought for a moment, looking now at the
tree, now at the soldiers; then, all of a sudden, he asked the
boy:

‘‘ Have you good eyesight, you rag-a-muffin ?”’

‘©T?” answered the boy. ‘‘ I can see a sparrow a mile dis-
tant.”

‘‘Can you climb to the top of that tree?’”’


48 "THER HEART OF A BOY

‘‘T can do that in a minute.”

‘« And could you tell me what you see down below from the
top, whether there are any Austrian soldiers, clouds of dust,
guns glimmering, or any horses on that side?”’

‘Surely, I could.”’ :

‘‘What do you want me to pay you for this service ?”’

‘What do I want?’ said the boy smiling; ‘‘ nothing, of
course——TIf the Austrians asked me, I would not do it at all
but, for our own people J am a Lombard!’

“Well, then, climb up.’’

‘Wait just a moment for me to take off my shoes.”’

He took off his shoes, tightened the strap around his trous-
ers, threw his hat on the grass, and clasped the trunk of the
ash tree.

‘But, look-out!’’ exclaimed the officer, making a gesture
as if to hold him back, as though seized with a sudden fear.
The boy turned around to look at him with his fine blue eyes,
as if to question him.

‘¢ Never mind,’’ said the officer; “‘ go up.’’

The boy went up like a cat. ‘‘ Look in front of you!” cried
the officer to the soldiers.

In a few moments, the boy was at the top of the tree, with
his legs around the trunk among the leaves, but with his breast ~
uncovered, and the sun shining on his blonde head made it look
like gold. The officer could hardly see him, he looked so small
from the ground.

‘‘Look straight in the distance,’’ cried the officer.

The boy, in order to see better, took his right hand from the
tree and put it over his forehead.

‘‘ What do you see?’’ asked the officer.

The boy bent his head toward him, and, making a speaking
tube of his hand, answered: ‘‘’I‘wo men on horseback on the
white road.”

“What distance from here ?”’

“ Half a.mile.”’




THE HEART OF A BOY 49

“Do they move?’”’
‘* They are standing still.’’
' “ What else do you see,’’ after a moment’s silence, ‘‘ Look
to your right.’’
Then he said: ‘‘ Among the trees near the cemetery, there
is something which glitters like bayonets.’’
‘“Do you see any people?”’
‘* No, they must be hidden under the wheat.’’ -
At that moment, the sharp whiz of a bullet passed high
through the air and died away, far off, behind the house.
‘‘Come down, boy,” cried the officer, ‘‘ They have seen

you. Ido not want anything more, come down.’’

‘‘T am not afraid,’’ answered the boy.

‘* Come down,” repeated the officer. ‘‘ What else do you see
at your left?”’

‘* At the left? ”’

‘Ves, at the Ieft.’’

The boy pushed his head to the left, and another whiz,
sharper and lower than the first, cut through theair. The boy
shook all over, ‘‘ Confound them!’’ he exclaimed. ‘‘ They
are aiming at me.” ‘The bullet*had passed very near him.

‘‘Down!’’ cried the officer in an imperious and irritated
way.

‘*T will come down directly. The tree, however, will pro-
tect me, do not fear. To the left, you wish to know what I
can see ?”’

‘To the left,’’ answered the officer ; ‘‘ but, come down.”

‘To the left,” said the boy, turning his head that way,
‘‘ Where there is a chapel, it seems as though I can see

A third raging whiz was heard and almost at the same time,
the boy was seen coming down, holding for a moment to the
trunk and to the branches, and then falling down, head first,
with open arms.

‘*Curse them !’’ cried the officer, running to him.

The boy struck the ground with his back and lay there


50 THE HEART OF A BOY

stretched out with his arms open ; a stream of blood was flow-
ing from his left side. The sergeant and two soldiers jumped
from their horses; the officer bent down and opened his shirt :
the bullet had entered hisleftlung. ‘‘ He is dead !’’ exclaimed
the officer. ‘‘No, he lives,’’ answered the sergeant. “ Our
poor, brave boy,” cried the officer. “Courage! Courage !”’
But while he was saying this and pressing his handkerchief
over the wound, the boy rolled his eyes wearily, and let his
hand fall back. He was dead. ‘The officer turned pale and.
looked at him fixedly for a moment, then laid him with his
head on the grass; and, for a while, he remained looking at
him. Also the sergeant and the two soldiers stood motionless
and gazed at him; the others were turned toward the enemy.
“Poor boy,’’ sadly repeated the officer, ‘‘ Poor and brave
boy.”’

Then he approached the house and took from the window
the tri-colored flag and stretched it out like a funeral pall
over his body, leaving the head uncovered. The sergeant
picked up the boy’s shoes, cap, the little stick, and the
knife.

They stood in silence for a moment, then the officer turned
to the sergeant and said: ‘‘ We will send the ambulance for
him. He died like a soldier, and we will bury him like a sol-
dier.”’ Having said this, he threw a kiss to the dead, and
cried, ‘‘To horse.’”? They all jumped to their saddles, the
troop formed again and followed up its route; but afew hours
later the little dead boy did receive the honors of war.

Towards sunset all the lines of the Italian advance post were
marching toward the enemy over the same toad which had
been taken in the morning by the troop of cavalry. The large
battalion of bersaglieri, which a few days before had valiantly
stained with blood the Hill of San Martino, proceeded in two

files. The news of the death of the boy had spread through
the army before the soldiers had left their encampment. A
stream ran along beside the path a few paces distant from the














































































































































And he slept there tn the grass.
THE HEART OF A BOY 51

house. When the first officers of the battalion saw the little
corpse, stretched at the foot of the ash tree and covered with
the tri-colored flag, they saluted him with the sword, and one
of them bent over the edge of the stream, which was bordered
with flowers, plucked two flowers and threw them over him.
‘Then all the battalion, as they were passing, picked flowers
and threw them over the dead. In a few moments the boy was
covered with flowers, and officers and soldiers all gave him a

salute as they.passed by. ‘‘Bravo, little Lombard!’ ‘‘Good-
bye, boy!’’ ‘‘Honor to you, little blonde!’’ ‘‘ Hurrah!’
‘*Glory!’’ ‘‘Goodbye!’’ One officer threw a medal of valor on

him; another went to kiss his forehead: the flowers continued
to shower upon his bare feet, upon his wounded chest, and upon
the blonde head. And he slept there in the grass, wrapped in
his flag, with a white but almost smiling face, poor boy, as if he
felt the honors paid him, as though he were content to have
given. his life for his Lombardy.

aero

THE POOR
Tuesday the 27th

To give one’s life for his own country like the boy of Lom-
bardy ts a great virtue, but do not forget the smaller virtues, my
child. When we returned from school this morning, while thou
wert walking in front of me, we passed a poor old woman who
held a frail and sickly baby on her knees, and who asked alms of
thee. Thou didst look at her, but didst not give her anything,
although thou hadst some soldi in thy, pocket. Listen, my child,
do not accustom thyself to pass indifferently in front of misery
which stretches out tts hands to thee, and much the less before a
mother who asks a penny for her baby. Think that maybe the
baby was hungry; think of the heartache of that poor woman.
Can you imagine the despairing sobs of thy mother the day that she
might have to tell thee: ‘‘Enrico, today I can give thee no bread.”
When I give a soldo to a mendicant and he says tome: ‘“ May
52 THE HEART OF A BOY

the Lovd preserve thee and all thy creatures!” thou canst not com.
prehend the gratitude that I feel toward that poor man. Tt seems
to me, indeed, that that wish ought to preserve me in good health
for a long time, and f return home content and think: ‘* Ah,
i. that poor man has paid me back
ames more than I have given him!”
Let me feel that sometimes such
a good wish ts provoked and mer-
tled by thee; take from time to
time a soldo from thy purse and
let it drop into the hand of an old
man without support. Give to
the mother without bread and to
N the baby without a mother. The
77 poor love alms Srom children be-
4 cause tt does not humiliate them
, to receive them, and because
children, needing everything,
resemble them. Notice that there
’ are always many poor around
the schools. The alms of aman
zs a deed of charity, but that of a
child is both a deed of charity and acaress. Dost thou understand
ine? Itisasif from his hand fell a soldo and a flower. Think
that thou lackest nothing and that they lack everything! that,
while thou art wishing to be happy, they are satisfied not to die.
Think that it ts horrible that in so many places on the streets,
where carriages and children dressed tn velvet are passing, there
should be women who have not enough to eat! Not to have any-
thing to eat, oh my God! That boys like thee, intelligent as thou
art, good as thou art, in the midst of a large city, like wild ant-
nials lost in the desert, should have nothing to eat! No, never,
nevermore, Enrico, pass in front of a mother who asks alms
‘without putting a soldo in her hand.




Thy Mother.
THE HEART OF A BOY 53

DECEMBER

THE TRADING BOY
Thursday the rst.

My father wishes that on every vacation day I should either
invite one of my schoolmates to come to our house or call upon
one of them, in order to become little by little friendly with
all. On Sunday, Iam going to walk with Votini, the well
dressed, one who is always brushing his clothes and is so envious
of Derossi. ‘Today, Garoffi came to the house. He is the tall,
slender fellow with a nose like an owl’s beak and shrewd eyes,
who always seems to scrutinize everything. Heis the son of
a druggist, and quite an original character. He is always
counting the soldi in his pocket; he counts them on his fingers
quickly, and can make any multiplication without an arith-
metical table. He saves money even now, and has a book in
the School Savings Bank. Henever spends a soldo; and, if he
drops a centesimo under the bench he is likely to look a week
forit. ‘He is like a night owl,’’ says Derossi. He finds old
pens, old postage stamps, pins and old wax matches. Every-
thing he picks up he saves. He has been collecting postage
stamps for more than two years, and has hundreds from every
country, pasted in a large album, which he will sell to the sta-
tioner when it is full. In the meantime, the stationer gives
him books, because he takes so many boys into his shop. At
school, he is always trafficking. He makes a sale of somekind
every day, gets up raffles, and trades, then he repents of hav-
ing traded and wants his goods back; he buys for two and sells
for four. He plays with pens and never loses; sells old news-
papers to the tobacco man; and he has a little note book, full of
sums in subtraction, in which he keeps a record of all his
business. He studies only arithmetic, and, if he wishes to
have a prize, it is only to have free entrance to a theatre of
marionettes. I like him and he amuses me. We have played
54 THE HEART OF A BOY

market together, using scales to weigh the different things.
He knows the right price of everything, understands
weights and measures, and can make beautiful paper. bags like
the shopkeepers. He says that as soon as he finishes school,
he will open a store and sell some new article of commerce |
which he has invented. He has always been pleased when I
have given him foreign postage stamps, and he has told me
_ exactly how much each one will sell for. ‘Today, my father,
while feigning to read, stood listening to him, and was
amused. Garoffi always has his pockets full of small articles
of merchandise which he covers up with a long black cloak,
and he looks as though he were continually thinking like a
merchant. That which is the nearest to his heart is his col-
lection of postage stamps; that is his treasure; he always speaks
of it as though he expected to make a fortune out of it. His
companions call him avaricious and an usurer. I donot know;
Tlike him: He teaches me many things and he looks like a
man. Coretti, the son of the wood huckster, says that Garoffi
would not give away his postage stamps éven to save his
mother’s life. My father does not believe it. He says:
‘“Wait before you judge him; he has that passion but he has
a heart.”

VANITY
. Monday the 5th.

Yesterday I went to take a walk through the viale Rivoli
with Votini and his father. Passing through the street Dora
Grosse, we saw Stardi, the one who kicks at those who trouble
him. He was standing in front of a book-seller’s window,
looking closely at a geographical map, and there isno knowing
how long he had stood there, because he always studies when
in the street. He scarcely returned our salute, the rude fel-

“low. Votini was well dressed—too well. He wore morocco
leather boots trimmed with red, an embroidered suit with silk
THE HEART OF A BOY _ 55

tassels, and a white castor hat. He carried a watch and
strutted; but his vanity served him ill thistime. After having
walked for a long time along the path, leaving his father
who walked slowly some distance behind, we sat down ona
stone bench next to a boy who was modestly dressed, who




looked tired and sad,
and who sat with his ©
head hanging down. e
A man who seemed to be his father was &
walking. back and forth under the trees,
reading a newspaper. Votini sat down between the lad and
myself and he immediately remembered that he was well dressed
and wished to be admired and envied by his neighbor.

He raised his foot and said to me, ‘‘ Have you seen my offi-
cer’s boots?”? He said that in order to have the other boy
look at them, but he paid no attention.

Then he lowered his foot and showed me his silk tassels
and said, glancing askance at the-boy, that he did not like
those silk tassels; that he wanted to have them changed for
silver buttons; but the boy did not even look at the tassels.

Votini then began to turn his beautiful white castor hat
on the point of his finger; but. the boy (it seemed that he did
it purposely ) did not deign to even look at the hat. .

wy
56 THE HEART OF A BOY

Votini was beginning to get irritated. He pulled out his
watch, opened it and showed me the works, but the other boy
did not turn his head. ‘‘Isit silver?’? Iasked him. ‘‘ No,”
he answered, ‘‘it is gold.’ ‘‘ But it is not all gold,” said I;
‘‘there is probably some silver in it.’’? ‘No, indeed,” he re-

peated; and, in order to force the boy to look, he held the
watch before his face and said, ‘‘ Look and tell me, is it not all
gold?”

The boy answered drily, ‘‘I do not know.”’

“Oh, ohi”’ exclaimed Votini, full of wrath. ‘‘ What
pride !”’

As he said this Votini’s father came up and heard him. He
looked fixedly at the boy for a moment, and then said brusquely
to his son, ‘‘ Be silent.’? And whispering into his ear, he
added: ‘‘ He is blind.”

Votini jumped to his feet with a shudder, and looked at
the boy’s face. His eyes were glassy and he had no expres-
sion in them.

Votini stood dumbfounded, with downcast eyes ; at last, he
muttered; ‘‘ I regret I did not know it.’’

But the blind boy, who had understood everything, said,
with a melancholy and sweet smile : ‘‘ Oh, it does not matter.”

Yes, Votini is vain, but he has nota bad heart. He did not’
smile again all that day.



THE FIRST SNOW STORM
Saturday the roth.

Farewell, walks to Rivoli, here comes the children’s beau-
tiful friend! Here comes the first snow! Since last evening,
it has fallen down in large flakes like jessamine flowers. It was
fun this morning at school to see it fall against the windows
and pile up on their sills. The teacher also looked at it and
- rubbed his hands. We were all content, thinking of making
snowhalis and of the ice which will come, and of the fire at


Coming down with a iag to warm the school-room.
THE HEART OF A BOY 57

‘ home. There was no one but Stardi who did not look at it é
he was all absorbed in his lesson, with his hand on his temple.
How beautiful ! What a time we had coming out! All danced
down the street, shouting. and gesticulating, snatching up
handfuls of snow and dashing it about like poodles in the water.
The parents were waiting outside the school room with um-
brellas which were covered with snow, the policeman’s helmet
was white, and all our satchels became whitein a few moments.
The boys all seemed beside themselves with joy. Even Pre-
cossi, the son of the blacksmith, the little pallid lad who never
laughs; and Robetti, the one who saved the child from under
the omnibus, poor boy, was leaping on his crutches. ‘The
Calabrian boy who had never seen snow, made a little ball of
it and began to eat it like a peach; Crossi, the son of the vege-
table woman, filled his satchel; and the Little Mason made us
nearly burst with laughter, when my father invited him to
come and visit me to-morrow; he had his mouth full of snow
and he did not dare to swallow it nor spit it out, and he stood
there choking and staring at us but could not answer. Even
the teachers were laughing as they ran out of the school. My
teacher of the first grade was among them, poor woman, run-
ning through the slush, protecting her face with her green veil,
and she was coughing. In the meanwhile, hundreds of girls from
the neighboring school were passing, screaming and dancing
upon that white carpet, and the teachers, janitor and policé-
men were shouting: ‘‘Gohome! Go home!’ Their mustaches
and whiskers were growing white with snow, but they also
laughed at the revelry of the pupils, who were enjoying the
winter.



Thou art enjoying winter —— but there are boys who have no
clothes, no shoes, no fire. There are those who come down to the
villages from long distances, carrying in their hands—bleeding
with chilblains—a piece of log to warm up the school-room.
There are hundreds of schools almost buried in snow, like caves,
where the children nearly suffocate frone the smoke and their teeth
58 THE HEART OF A BOY

chatter with the cold, looking with terror through the white snow-
flakes which fall without ceasing, which pile up constantly upon
their distant huts, threatened by the avalanche. You enjoy winter,
boys! Think of the thousands of human beings to whom winter
brings misery and death! Thy Father.

THE LITTLE MASON

“The Little Mason’’ came to-day, dressed up in his hunt-
ing jacket and clothes cast off by his father, still white with
lime and chalk. My father wished him to come even more
than I did. How pleased we were to see him! As soon as he
entered he took off the soft felt hat, which was all wet with
snow, and stuck it into his pocket; then he came forward with
that careless gait, like a tired workman, with his small face
round like an apple and his nose like a ball, turning his eyes
to look here and there; and when he came into the dining
room, he cast a glance around at the furniture, and then fixed
his eyes upon the portrait which represents Rigoletto, the
hunchbacked buffoon, and he made the hare face.

It is impossible to keep from laughing when you see him
make the hare face. We began to play with wood blocks.
He is skilled in building towérs and bridges, which seem to
stand as though by magic, and he works at it seriously with
the energy of aman. Between the building of one tower and
another, he told me abouf his family. They live in a garret.
His father goes to the evening school to learn to read ana
write; his mother is from Biella. His parents must love him;
one can see it, because if he is dressed as a poor child, yet he is
protected against the cold. His clothes are well mended, and
he wears a necktie which is tied by the hand vi his mother.
He told me that his father is a big fellow, a giant who can
hardly go through the doors, but he is kind, and he always
calls his son ‘‘ Hare Face.’’ The son, however, is very small.

At four o’clock we had lunch together, seated on the sofa.
THE HEART OF A BOY 59

When we got upI could not understand why my father ‘did
not want me to clean the back of the sofa, where the Little
Mason had made it white with his jacket, but he held back my
hand, and cleaned it himselfon thesly. While we were playing,
the Little Mason lost a button from his hunting jacket, and my
mother sewed it on again for him; and he blushed and stood
looking at her so surprised and confused that he could scarcely
breathe. After that I gave him an album which contained il-
lustrations of different characters, to look at; and, unsconcious
of it, he made faces so much like them that even my father
laughed. He was so happy when he left that he forgot to put
on his hat, and to show me his gratitude, when we got to the
landing, he once more made the hare face. His name is An-
touio Rabucco. He is eight years and eight months old.

Dost thou know, my son, why I did not wish thee to clean the
sofa? Because, by deaning it when thy companion would see thee
was to reprove him for having sotled it; and that would not have been
right, first, because he had not done it purposely, and also because
he had done tt with the clothes of his father, which have been cov-
ered with plaster while at work, and what one rubs against at work
as not dirt, it 7s dust, or lime, or varnish, anything that thou wilt,
but not dirt. Work does not make one filthy. Never say of a
workman who comes from his labor: ‘* He is filthy; thou must
say: “‘fle has on his clothes the traces of toil.’ Remember
this, and love the Little Mason because he is thy companion and
because he is the son of a workman. Thy Father,

A SNOWBALL,
Friday the réth.
And it keeps on snowing. An ugly accident happened this
morning because of the snow. As we came out of the school
room, a crowd of boys just entering the Corso began to throw
snowballs made of watery snow, which makes balls that are as
hard and heavy as stones. Many persons were passing on the
60 THE HEART OF A BOY

sidewalk, and a gentleman cried: ‘‘Stop, you rogues!’’ Just
at that moment, a sharp cry was heard on the other side of the
street, and an old man, who-had lost his hat, was seen stagger-
ing and covering his face with his hands. A boy next to him
cried: ‘‘ Help! Help!’

Immediately people ran to him from every side; a snowball
had struck him in the eye. All the boys dispersed, running
like a flash. I stood in front of the bookseller’s shop that
my father had entered, and saw several of my classmates who
were mingled with the others near me, rush in and pretend te
be looking at the show-cases. There was Garrone with a loaf
of bread in his pocket as usual, Coretti, the Little Mason, and
Garoffi, the one who collects postage stamps. In the mean-
time, a crowd had gathered around the old man, and the
policemen and others were running on all sides, threatening
and asking: ‘‘ Who was it?’’? ‘‘ Who did it?’? ‘‘ Was it
you?’’ ‘Tell me, who did it?’’ and looking at the hands of the
boys that were wet with snow.

Garoffi was next to me and I noticed that he was trem-
bling like a leaf and his face was as white as that of a
corpse. ‘‘Whowas it?’’ ‘‘ Who did it?’’ the people con-
tinued to cry.

Then I heard Garrone saying softly to Garoffi: ‘‘ Come,
go and denounce thyself; it would be cowardly to allow some |
one else to be arrested.’’

‘‘But I did not do it on purpose,’’ answered Garoffi, still
trembling.

‘‘It matters not, do your duty,’’ repeated Garrone.

“But I have not the courage.”

“Take courage; I will accompany you.”’

And the others were crying still louder: ‘‘ Who was it?’’
‘““Who didit?’’ ‘One of his glasses has entered into his eye!
‘They have blinded him, the brigands!”’

I thought that Garoffi would fall on the ground. ‘‘ Go,”’
said Garrone resolutely; ‘‘ I will defend you,”’ and, taking him
THE HEART OF A BOY 61

by the arm, he pushed him forward, holding him up like a sick
person. The people saw and understood immediately, and
many made a dash at him with their arms lifted, but Garrone
put himself before him, crying:

‘You are ten against a child!”

Then they stopped, and a policeman took Garoffi by the
hand and, making his way through the crowd, he led him to
a baker’s shop, where the wounded man had been carried.
When I saw him I recognized immediately the old employee
who lives on the fourth floor of our house with his little
nephew. He was leaning back on achair with a handkerchief
over oneeye. “‘I did not do it on purpose,’’ said Garoffi, half
dead with fear; ‘I did not do it on purpose.’ ;

Two or three persons pushed him into the shop violently.
““ Bow down thy head!’ ‘Ask forgiveness! ’’ and they threw
him on the floor; but suddenly two vigorous arms put him upon
his feet, and a resolute voice said:

“No, gentlemen!’’ It was our principal, who had seen
everything. ‘‘Since he has had the courage to give himself
up,’’ he added, ‘‘no one has the right to abuse him.” ‘They
all held their peace. ‘“‘ Ask forgiveness,’’ said the principal to
Garoffi. Garoffi burst into tears and embraced the knees of
the old man, who put his hand on his head and caressed his
hair, and then they all said:

‘Go home, child, go home.”

My father took me away from the crowd, and said on the
way home: ‘‘ Enrico, in a similar case, would you have had
the courage to do your duty and to go and confess your guilt?”
I answered, ‘‘ Yes, I would.”

‘‘Give me your word asa boy of heart and of honor that
you would do so.’’

“‘I give you my word, father !””
62 THE HEART OF A BOY

THE SCHOOL MISTRESS
Saturday the r7th

Garoffi was very much frightened to-day because he ex-
pected a great scolding from the teacher, but the teacher did
uot make his appearance, and, as the substitute was also ab-
sent, the signora Cromi,. the oldest of the school mis-
tresses, came to teach us. She has two large boys, and
she has taught many-of the ladies to read and write, who now
come to the school to accompany their own boys.

She was sad to-day because she has a sick child. As soon
as the boys saw her they began to make an uproar, but with

.a sweet and tranquil voice she said softly, ‘‘ Respect my gray
hair; I am not only a teacher, but a mother as well.’’ Then no
one dared to speak; not even Franti, who was satisfied with
jeering her on the sly.

Mistress Delcati, the teacher of my brother, was sent to
Cromi’s class, and in Mistress Delcati’s place they put the one
whom they call ‘‘ The Little Nun,” because she is always
dressed in. black and has a small white face. She combs her
hair down smoothly; her eyes are very clear, and she has such
a low voice that it seems as though she were all the time
murmuting prayers. ‘‘ One cannot understand her,’’ says my
mother, ‘‘she is so mild and timid, with such a tremor in her
voice that one can scarcely hear her; and she never cries, never
getsangry.’’ Still she holds the boys down very quietly so that
they cannot be heard, and the most roguish of them will bow
his head if she only admonishes him with her finger. Her
school seems like a church; this is another reason why they
call her ‘‘ The Little Nun.’’

There is another whom I also like—the little school mis-
tress of the upper number three, the young lady with the rosy
face and two dimples in her cheeks; she wears a large red
feather in her hat and a yellow cross on her neck. She is


She plays the part of mother toward them.
THE HEART OF A BOY 68

always happy and keeps the class merry; she is always stniling,
and when she scolds with her silvery voice it seems as though
she were singing, striking her little rod on the table and clap-
ping her hands to impose silence. "When they leave the room
she runs behind them like a child, first to one and then
another, to keep them iri line. She pulls up the cap of one
and buttons the coat of another so that they will not catch
cold. She begs the parents not to chastise them at home.
She brings lozenges for those who cough, and lends her muff
to those who are cold, and she is constantly harassed by the
little fellows who torment her and ask her for kisses, pulling
at her veiland mantle. She lets them do it, and kisses every
one, laughing, and she returns home all out of breath but
happy. She is also the drawing teacher of the girls’ school
and supports a mother and a brother with her earnings.

&

IN THE HOME OF THE WOUNDED MAN
Sunday the r&th.

The little nephew of the old employe who was struck in
the eye with a snowball by Garoffi belongs to the class of the
teacher with the red feather. We called on him to-day at the
home of his uncle, who keeps him like a son.

I had just finished writing the monthly story, ‘‘ The Little
Florentine Writer,” for next week, which the teacher gave me
to copy, when my father said to me, ‘‘ We will go upstairs to
the fourth story to see how that gentleman is getting along
with his eye.’ Weentered a room almost dark where there
was an old man sitting up in bed with a great many pillows at
his back. By his bedside sat his wife, and in the corner the
little nephew was playing with toys. The old man had his
right eye bandaged. He was much pleased to see my father,
asking us to sit down, and told us that he was getting better,
that not only was his eye not lost, but that in two or three
days he would be entirely recovered. ‘‘It was an accident,”
64 THE HEART OF A BOY

he added, ‘‘and I am sorry for the fright that the poor boy
must have had.’’

Then he spoke of the. physician who was to come at that
time to attend him.

Just at that moment, the bell rang. ‘‘Itis the physician,’’
said the lady. The door opens and whom do I see?
Garoffi, with his long cloak, standing on the threshold with his
head bent down as though he iacked the courage to enter.

“Who is it?’ asked the sick man.

“Yt is the boy who threw the snowball,’’ answered my
father, and the old man said: ‘‘Oh, my poor boy, walk in,
you come to inquire after the wounded man, isn’t that so? He
is better; be easy; I am better, I am almost well. Come
here.’-

Garoffi, very much confused, approached the bed, making
an effort to keep from*crying, and the old man caressed him,
but he could not speak.

“Thanks,’’ said the old man. ‘‘Go and tell your father
and mother that all is well; let them not worry on my
account.’’

But. Garoffi did not move, he looked as though he had some-
thing to say but dared not say it.

‘** What have you to tell me? What do you want?”

‘J, nothing.”

‘Then, farewell, boy. Go with your heart at peace.”

Garoffi walked to.the door, but there he stopped and turned
around toward the little nephew who was following him, and
looking at him, he suddenly pulled something from under his
cloak and put it in the hands of the boy, saying hastily, ‘“This
is for you,” and he dashed out.

The boy took the parcel to his uncle and they saw written
upon it: ‘“‘/ gtve you this as a present.”

After looking inside, he uttered an exclamation of surprise;
it was the famous album, containing his collection of postage
stamps, that poor Garoffi had given him; the collection of which












































































































































































ed.

The old man had-his right eye banda,
THE HEART OF A BOY 65

he always spoke and upon which he had founded so many hopes
and which had cost him so many efforts; it was a treasure,
poor lad, it was half of his own blood that he had given the old
man in exchange for his pardon.

THE LITTLE FLORENTINE WRITER

(MONTHLY STORY.)

He. belonged to the fourth elementary class. He wasa
pretty Florentine lad of twelve, with black hair and light com-
plexion, the eldest son of a railroad employee, who, hav-
ing a large family and a
small salary, lived in
straightened circumstances.
The little boy’s father loved
him very much, and was
kind to him and indulgent,
except in what concerned
the school. In this one re-
spect he was exacting and
showed himself severe with
him because he must soon
be able to obtain employ-
ment in order to help the
family along, and to accom-
plish this he must learn much in a short time. And, although
the boy studied, the father still exhorted him to study harder.
His father was advanced in years, and severe work had
made him grow old before his time; nevertheless, in order
to provide for the necessities of his family, besides the large
amount of work which his office brought him, he undertook
to do some extra work as copyist, and would spend a great
part of the night at his desk. Lately he had obtained work
from a publishing house which published books and _peri-
odicals, and he had to write on the wrappers the names and


66 THE HEART OF A BOY

addresses of all the subscribers. He received three lire ior
every five hundred paper wrappers which he addressed. But
this work tired him out, and he often complained to the family
at the dinner table.

“‘ My eyesight is going,’? he would say, ‘‘ this night work
is killing me.’’ His son said one day: ‘‘ Papa, let me work
in your stead, you know that I write just as you do.’’ But
the father answered: ‘‘ No, my child, you must study. Your
school is of more importance than my wrappers. It would
grieve me to steal an hour from you. I thank you, but I will
not allow you to do it; do not speak of it again.”

The son knew it was useless to argue with his father in
such matters, and so he did not insist. But this is what he
did. He knew that at midnight his father would stop writ-
ing, leave his working room and go into his bedroom. At
times he heard, immediately after the stroke of twelve, the
noise of a chair moved and the slow step of his father. That
night he waited until his father had gone to bed, dressed him-
self very quietly, went softly into the writing room, lit the
kerosene lamp, and sat down on the desk where there was a
pile of white wrappers and the list of the addresses, and began
to write, imitating exactly his father’s handwriting. He.
wrote willingly and gladly, though a little frightened, and the
wrappers piled up. Once in a while he would stop to rub
his hands and then begin again with increased alacrity, listen-
ing intently and smiling. He wrote one hundred and sixty,
‘One lire;’’? then he stopped, replaced the pen where he had
found it, and returned to bed on tiptoe.

The next day his father sat at the head of the table in good
humor. He had not noticed anything. He was doing his
work mechanically, measuring it by hours, and thinking of
other matters, and did not count the wrappers until the day
after they were written. That day he slapped his hand on
his son’s shoulder, and said, ‘‘ Well, Giulio, your father is still
a good workman, no matter what you may think. In two
THE HEART OF A BOY 67

hours last night he did a good third more work than usual.
My hand is still quick and my eyes still do their duty.”
Giulio was content, and said to himself, ‘“ Poor papa; besides
his gain, I also give him the satisfaction of thinking himself
rejuvenated. Well, have courage !”’

Encouraged by his first success, the next night as soon as
the clock struck twelve he got up and went to work again, and
‘ so he did for several nights, and his father did not notice any-
thing. One night at supper he remarked, ‘It is strange the
amount of kerosene that we use in this house of late.” Giulic
felt a shock, but the conversation stopped there, and the night
work went on.

However, by losing his sleep every night in this way,
Giulio did not rest enough, and in the morning he would get
up feeling tired, and when he did his school work in the
evening he had difficulty in keeping his eyes open. One even-
ing, for the first time in his life, he fell asleep on his copy-
book.

“Courage, courage!’ cried his father, clapping his hands.
‘To work |’?

He shook himself and set to work again. But the next
evening and the following days it was the same thing, and
even worse. He dozed over his books, would get up later
than usual, study his lessons in a careless way, and seemed
disgusted with study. His father began to observe this, and
then to worry about him, and at last to reprove him. He
should never have done so.

“Giulio,” said he one morning, ‘‘ you disappoint me; you
are no longer what you once were. ‘This cannot goon. All
the hopes of the family rest upon you. I am dissatisfied, do
you hear? ’’

Hearing such a reproof, the first really severe one which he
had ever received, the boy was troubled. “ Yes,’’ said he to
himself, ‘‘I cannot continue in this way, it is true; the test
must come to an end.’’ But that same evening, his father ex-
68 THE HEART OF .A BOY

claimed with much satisfaction, ‘‘Do you know that, this
month, I have earned thirty-two lire more by addressing wrap-
pers than I did last month!’’ And as he said this he pulled
from under the table a box of candy which he had bought in
order to celebrate with his children the extra profit, and which
they all received with delight.

Giulio then took courage, and said in his heart: ‘‘ No,
poor papa, I will not stop deceiving you; I will make a greater
effort to study during the day, but I shall keep on working at
night for you and for the others.’’ And his father added:
‘Thirty-two lire more, I am happy but that fellow there,”
and he pointed at Giulio, ‘‘he displeases me.” And Giulio
accepted the reproof in silence, swallowing the tears which were
about to fall, and feeling at the same time, a great sweetness
in his heart.

He kept on working, but fatigue following fatigue, it be-
came harder and harder for him to resist it. He worked in
this way for two months, His father continued toreprove him
and to look at him with more and more of a frown. One day
he went to ask information of the teacher, and the latter
said: :

‘Ves, he goes on because he is intelligent, but he has no
longer the good will which he had at first; he dozes, yawns,
and seems distracted. He writes shorter compositions, and his
penmanship is so bad that they must have been written in
haste. He could do much more.”

That evening his father took him aside and talked to him
more severely than he had ever done before: ‘‘ Giulio, you
see that I work, that I wear my life out for the family. You
do not second my efforts. You do not care for me, for your
brothers, for your mother !”’

‘*Oh! no, no, do not say so, father,” cried the boy bursting
into tears and opening his mouth, about to confess everything.
But his father interrupted him, saying:

“You know the condition of the family; you know there is


THE HEART OF A BOY 69

need of good will and sacrifice on the part of all; you see how
I double up my work. I was counting this month on a grati-
fication of a hundred lire at the railway office, and I learned
this morning that I will not get anything!’’ At this news,
Giulio repressed the confession which was about to escape from
his lips and repeated resolutely to himself:

“‘ No, papa, I will tell you nothing; I will maintain secrecy
in order to be able to work for you; I will compensate you for
the pain that I cause you; at school I will always study enough
to be advanced; what is necessary now is to help you to earn
your living and to lessen the fatigues which are ‘killing you.”
And the boy kept up this night work continually for two
months and suffered from lassitude during the day; there were
desperate efforts on the part of the son and bitter reproofs from
the father.

But the worst of it all was that the latter was gradually
growing colder toward his boy; he spoke to him rarely, as though
he were a recreant son from whom there was no more to hope,
and always tried to avoid his glance. Giulio noticed this and
suffered from it, and when his father tnrned his back, he threw
him a furtive kiss, with a pitiful and sad tenderness on his face,
_ Owing to the sorrow and fatigue, the boy was growing thin-
ner, was losing his color and was forced to neglect his studies.
He understood too well that some day or other it would come
to an end, and every evening he would say: ‘‘ Tonizht I will
not get up;’’ but at the stroke of twelve, at the moment when
he must keep his resolution, he felt a remorse, and it seemed
to him that if he remained in bed he failed to do his duty—rob-
bing his father and his family of a lire; and he would get up,
thinking that some night his father would wake up and sur-
prise him, or that he would find out the deceit by chance in
counting over the wrappers twice, and then all would come to
an end without any action on his part, but he did not feel cour.
ageous enough to tell his father what he was doing; and he
kept on with his work. 5
70 THE HEART OF’A BOY

But one evening at dinner, his father said something which.
decided him. His mother looked at him and it seemed to her
that he appeared more ill and weaker than usual; she said to
him: ‘Giulio, you are ill!” And then turning with anxiety
to her husband, ‘‘ Giulio is ill. Look how pale he is! My
Giulio, what is the matter with you?”

His father cast a glance at him and said: ‘‘It is his bad
conscience that causes him to bein poor heaith; he was not like
this when he was a studious pupil and a boy of heart.

“But he is looking ill,’’ exclaimed the mother.

“I don’t care,” answered the father.

‘These words were. like a knife blade in the heart of the poor
boy. ‘‘Ha! he did not care for him any more!” His own
father, who once trembled to hear him cough! He did not
love him any more! He was no longer in doubt; he was dead
in the heart of his father.

“Ah, now, my father,’’ said the boy to himself with his heart
oppressed with anxiety, ‘‘ this is the end, indeed; i cannot live
without your affection; I want to have it back, the whole of it;
I will tell you all; I will not deceive you any longer; I will
study as I did before, let what will happen, if you will only
love me once more, my poor father. ‘This time I am sure of
my resolution.”’

Nevertheless, when Eide came, he got up again from
mere force of habit more than anything else, and when he was
up, he wished to go and sit for a few minutes, in the peaceful-
ness of the night, and for the last time, in that little room
where he had worked so hard, on the sly, with his heart full
of satisfaction and tenderness. And when he found himself at
the desk with the lamp lighted and those white paper wrap-
pers, upon which he would no longer write the names of per-
sons and towns which by this time he knew by heart, he was
overtaken by a great sadness, and with impetuosity he grasped
the pen again to begin the usual work. But in stretching out
his hand he pushed a book and it fell.


THE HEART OF A BOY 71,

The blood rushed to his heart. What if his father should
waken! He would certainly not surprise him in the act of
doing something bad. He had resolved to tell him every-
thing; still, to hear that step approaching in the
darkness—to be surprised at that hour of the night, in that sil-
lence! He must also have wakened his mother and she would
be frightened—And to think that for the first time his father —
should experience humiliation in his presence, having discoy-
ered everything. All this terrified him. He put his ear
to the lock with suspended breath —— he heard no noise. He
went to another door of the room, but heard nothing. ‘The
whole house was asleep. His father had not heard him.

He felt tranquil and began to write again, and the wrappers
were piling up fast. He heard the regular step of the police-
man in the deserted street, then the noise of a carriage which
suddenly stopped ; then, after.a while, the rattle of a file of
trucks which were slowly passing ; then a profound silence,
broken from time to time by the barking of a dog in the dis-
tance. And he kept on writing and writing. Inthe meantime
his father had come in and stood behind him.

Hearing the book fall, he had risen and had stood awaiting
the proper moment; the rattling of the trucks had drowned his
foot-steps and the creaking of the door. He stood there with
his white head over the small’ black head of Giulio; he had
seen the pen run over the wrappers ; in a moment, he had
guessed everything, remembered all, understood all, and asense
of despairing repentance and of immense tenderness had invaded
his soul and had kept him there, riveted and suffocated behind
his child.

Suddenly, Giulio uttered a piercing shriek and two convul-
sive arms had clasped his head. “Oh, papa, papa, forgive me!
forgive me!’ he cried, having become aware of his father’s
presence by his weeping.

‘““You, forgive me,’’ answered his father, sobbing, and coy-
ing his forehead with kisses. ‘I understand all. I know all,




72 THE HEART OF A BOY

ItisT! ItisI who ask forgiveness from you, blessed little
child of mine. Come, come with me,’’ and he pushed him, or
rather carried him to his mother who was also awake, and
throwing him into her arms, said:

‘ Riss this angel of a child, who for the last three months
has not slept but has worked for me, while I was saddening his
heart, the heart of him who earned our bread.”’

The mother clasped him and held him to her breast without
being able to speak a word, and then said: ‘*Go to sleep
immediately, my child, go to sleep and rest. Take him to
bed!’ ‘’he father took him in his arms and carried him to
his room and put him to bed, still breathing hard and caressing
him, fixed his pillows and his bed covers.

“Thanks, papa.’? ‘The boy repeated his thanks and added:
‘“‘But now, you go to bed, I am satisfied; go to bed, papa.’’ But
his father wanted to see him asleep and sat by the bedside,
took his hand and said: ‘‘Sleep! Sleep! my child!” And
Giulio, tired out, at last fell asleep and slept many hours, en-
joying for the first time in several months a peaceful sleep,
enlivened by pleasant dreams; and when he opened his eyes the
_ sun was shining, and he saw close to his. breast, leaning upon
the edge of the little bed, the white head of his father who had
passed the night thus, and who still slept with his brow lean-
ing against his son’s heart.

WILL

There is Stardi in my class who would have the strength to
do what the little Florentine boy has done. This morning, there
were two events at school: Garoffi was crazy with satisfaction
-because they had returned his album with the addition of three
postage stamps of the Republic of Guatemala which he had
been trying to get for the last three months ; and Stardi won
the second medal. Stardi next in theclass to Derossi! It was
a surprise to all, Who would have thought it would be so in










His brow leaning against his son's heart,
THE HEART OF A BOY 73

October, when his father took him to school, bundled up in his
large green overcoat, and said to the master, in the presence of
all the pupils:. ‘‘Havea great deal of patience, because it is
difficult for him to understand,” Every one called him a block-
head at the beginning. But he started to work with all his
might, in the day time, by night. at home, at school, or walk-
ing in the street, with his teeth shut and his fists clenched.
And, surely, by dint of trampling on every one, not caring for
the jeers of others, and kicking all those who disturbed him, he
passed ahead of every one, that blockhead, who did not under-
stand the first thing about. arithmetic, filled. his composition
with mistakes, and could not commit to memory a single para-
graph. Now, he solves problems, writes correctly, sings his
lesson like a song. One can guess at his iron will when one sees
how he is built, so thick-set with a square head and no neck,
with short hands and a coarse voice. He studies even,in scrap
books, newspapers, and theatre advertisements, and every time
he gets ten soldi, he buys a book. He has already collected
quite a little library, and, in a moment of good humor, he has
promised to take me to his home to see it, He never speaks
to any one, never plays with any one, but is always there at
his desk with his fists on his temples, sitting like a rock, listen-
ing to the teacher. How he must have struggled, poor Stardi !
The master, although he was impatient andin a bad humor this
morning when he delivered the medals said: ‘‘ Bravo, Stardi,
he who endures conquers.’ But Stardi did not seem at all puffed
up with pride, he did not even smile, and as soon as he returned
to his bench with his medal, he put his two fists on his temples
and sat just as still and more attentive than before. But
the finest thing happened when he went out of school, where
his father was waiting for him. He is a thick-set fellow, big
and clumsy, with a large round face and a heavy voice. He
did not expect that medal, and could scarcely believe it was
true that Stardi had won it; the teacher was obliged to convince
him, and then he began to laugh heartily and tapped his son on
74 THE HEART OF A BOY

the back of the neck, saying in a loud voice: “‘ Well done!
Bravo, my little blockhead ! that is the way!” and looked at
him as if amazed, but smiling. And all the boys around
smiled, with the exception of Stardi, who was already pondering
over the lesson for to-morrow morning.

GRATITUDE
Saturday the 3rst.

Thy companion, Stardi, never complains about his master, 1
am sure. ‘‘ The teacher was in a bad humor and was impatient.”
And thou sayst that, in a tone of resentment. Think a little, how
many times dost thou act impatiently thyself and with whom?
With thy father and thy mother, towards whom thy impatience ts
acrime. Thy teacher is right to be tmpatient at times! Think
how many years he has toiled for the boys, and though he has had
many who were kind and devoted to him, there are always some
who are ungrateful and take advantage of his kindness, who do
not appreciate his efforts; and among all of you, you cause him
more bitterness than satisfaction. Think that the most blessed
man on earth, if put in his place, would at times be conquered by
wrath, And then tf thou knewest how many times he goes to
teach, not feeling well and yet not tll enough to remain away
From the school room. He is impatient because he suffers, and it
pains him to see that you do not notice it and that you take advan-
tage of it. Respect and love thy master, child. Love him be-
cause thy father loves and respects him, because he consecrates his
life to the welfare of so many boys, who will forget him. Love
him because he opens and enlightens thy intelligence and educates
thy soul; because some day when thou art a man, and when
neither he nor I shall be in this world, his image will often pre-
sent itself to thy mind alongside of mine, and then thou wilt notice
certain expressions of sorrow and of weariness in his good face
which thou dost not observe now, but that thou wilt remember and
‘that will cause thee sorrow even thirty years later; and thou wilt
THE HEART OF A BOY 75

be ashamed, and wilt experience sadness Jor not having loved him
and for behaving badly toward him. Love thy teacher because he
belongs to the large family of ‘fifty thousand elementary teachers
scattered all over Italy, who are like intellectual fathers to millions
of boys who grow up with thees a worker scarcely recognized and
badly recompensed, and who prepares for our country a people bet-
ter than the present one. Lam not content with the affection which
thou hast for me, of thou hast not also an affection for all those
who do thee good, and among these thy master, who ts the first
after thy parents, Love him as thou wouldst a brother of mine,
| Love him when he caresses thee and when he reproves thee, when
he ts just, and when it seems that he ts unjust. Love him when
he is merry and affable, and love him also still more when he ts
sad. Love him always, and always pronounce with reverence this
word, ‘‘ master,’ which, next to the name of “father,” zs the
most noble and the sweetest that a man can call any man.

Thy Father.

JANUARY

THE SUBSTITUTE
Wednesday the gth.

My father was right; the teacher was ina bad humor because
he was not feeling well. For the last three days, a substitute
has taken his place, a little fellow without whiskers and who
looks like a youth. A shameful thing happened this morn-
ing. The boys had been making an uproar at school for the
past two days, because the substitute has a great deal of
patience and says nothing except: ‘‘ Be quiet, be silent, I beg
you!’?

But this morning they passed all bounds. A great noise
arose and his words could no longer be heard; he would ad-
monish and beg, but it was all lost. ‘The principal peeped
a

76 é THE HEART OF A BOY

through the door twice, but as soon as he was gone, the noise
would increase, as it does in a market place. Garrone and
Derossi in vain turned around and made some signs to their
companions to keep quiet, as it was a shame. No one paid
any heed. Stardi kept quiet. He sat with his elbows on the
desk and his fists on his temples, probably dreaming of his
famous library. Garoffi, the boy with the hooked nose and the
collector of postage stamps, kept busy, drawing up a list of
subscribers at two ‘‘centesimi’’ each for the lottery of a big
inkstand. ‘The rest of the boys chattered and laughed, played
with pen points stuck on the benches, and threw pellets of
paper at each other with the elastics from their garters. ‘The
substitute would grab by the arm, now one boy and now at-
other, and shake him, but it was time and trouble wasted. The
substitute no longer knew what to do, and was entreating:
‘“‘ Why do you act this way? Do you want me to punish you
by force??? ‘Then he would pound his fists upon the desk and
cry, in a voice mingled with wrath and tears: ‘‘ Silence!
Silence! Silence!’’? It was painful to hear him.

But the noise grew every moment. Franti threw a paper
arrow at him, others uttered cat-calls, some thumped each
other on the head; it was a pandemonium almost beyond de-
scription, when all of a sudden the janitor entered:

“Signor Maestro, the principal calls you.”

The teacher arose and left hurriedly, making a gesture of
despair. ‘Then the noise recommenced stronger than ever.
But suddenly Garrone sprang up with a convulsed face
and his fist closed, and shouted with a voice thick with
wrath: :

“Stop this, you brutes! you take advantage of him because
he is good; if he were to bruise your skin you would keep as
abject as dogs. You are a lot of cowards! The first one who
mocks him again, I will lay for him outside and break his
teeth; I swear it, even though it be under the eyes of his father!’’
They were all silent.
ae ae



THE HEART OF A BOY 77

Ah! how beautiful it was to see Garrone with those eyes
that were emitting flames! He appeared like a furious little
lion. He looked at the boldest boys, one by one, and they
bent their heads. When the substitute, with red eyes, re
entered the room not a breath was heard. He stood in amaze-
ment. But, after seeing Garrone, still all aflame and
trembling, he understood and said, with an accent of great
affection, as if he were speaking to a brother: ‘‘I thank you,
Garrone.”’

STARDI’S LIBRARY

Stardi lives opposite the school and I have been in his home.
I felt envious, indeed, when I saw his library. He is not
rich; he cannot buy many books; but he keeps with care his
school books and those which his parents give him, and saves
all the soldi which he gets, and puts them aside and spends
them at the book-seller’s; in this way he has already got a lit-
tle library. And when his father discovered that he had this
passion, he bought him a nice walnut bookcase with a green
curtain and had many volumes bound in the colors he liked the
best. When he pulls a little string the curtain runs back and
one can see three rows of books of every color, all placed in
good order, shining, with the titles in gold on the back. Books
of stories, of travels, of poetry, and some of them are illus-
trated. He knows how to harmonize the colors and puts the
white volumes next to the red, the yellow ones next to the
black, and the blue ones next to the white ina way that they
may be seen at a distance and make a nice show, and he
amuses himself by changing the combinations. He has made
himself a catalogue. He is like a librarian, always around his
books, dusting them, turning over the leaves, and examining
the bindings; you ought to see with what care he opens them
with those short, thick fingers, blowing through the pages, and
théy all seem new... I have worn mine all out! Every new
78 THE HEART OF A BOY

book he buys is a feast for him; he polishes it and puts it in
place, taking it and looking at it in every way, and brooding
over it like a treasure. He showed me nothing else in an
hour’s time. He has sore eyes from reading too much. While
I was there his father passed through the room. He is big
and clumsy and has a large head like Stardi’s. He gave him
two or three thumpings on the back of his head, saying with
that big voice of his:

‘‘What do you think, eh, of this thick head of bronze?
‘It is a thick head which I assure you will succeed in doing
something! ’’

And Stardi half closed his eyes under that rough caress,
like a large hunting dog. I did not dare to jest with him. I
could hardly believe that he is only one year older than I, and
when he said ‘‘Goodbye’’ at the door, with that face which
always looks ridiculous, I came very near saying to him:
“‘Good afternoon, sir,’’ as I would to a man. I told my
father about it afterward, when I was at home: ‘‘ I do not under-
stand it; Stardi has no talent, he lacks good manners, he has a
ridiculous looking face, still he imposes respect upon me.”’
And my father answered: ‘‘It is because he has character.”’
And I added: ‘‘Inthe hour that I have been with him, he
has not said fifty words; he has not shown me any toy; he has
not laughed once; yet, I was glad to bethere.”” And my father
answered: ‘‘It is because you esteem him.”’

THE SON OF THE BLACKSMITH

Yes, and I esteem Precossi also; and it is not enough to say
that I esteem him. Precossi, that little thin fellow, who has
languid but good eyes and a frightened look, is the son of a
blacksmith. He is so timid that he saystoevery one, ‘‘ Excuse
me,” but he studies almost too much. His father returns
home drunk and beats him without any reason whatever; throws
his books and copy-books around with a blow of the hand; and
THE HEART OF A BOY 79

sometimes Precossi comes to school with black and blue marks
on his face, and his eyes red from crying. But one can never
make him tell that his father has beaten him. His compdnions
say to him:

‘It is your father who has beaten you,”’ And he answers
immediately: ‘‘ No, thatisnottrue!’’ in order not to disgrace
his father.

‘“‘It was not you who burned this sheet of paper,’’ the
master said, showing him his lesson half burned.

‘“Yes,’’ he answered ‘‘I let it fall in the fire.”’

Still, we well knew that his father, being drunk, had upset
the lamp on the table with a kick while Precossi was writing
his lesson.

He lives in the garret of our house on the other side of the
stairway. The janitor’s wife tellsmy mother everything. One
day my sister Silvia heard him from the balcony crying in ter-
ror ; his father had sent him headlong down the stairs because
he had asked him for money to buy a grammar. His father
drinks and does not work, and his family are starving all the
time.

How often does Precossi come to school with an empty
stomach and nibbles in secret the small loaf which Gar-
rone has given him, or an apple which the little teacher with
the red feather has presented to him; she was his teacher in
the first lower class. But he never says: ‘‘I am hungry, my
father does not give me enough to eat.’’

His father calls for him sometimes when he. passes the
school. Hehas a fierce face, with his hair over his eyes and a
cap worn on the back of his head, and he is often unsteady on
his legs ; the poor boy trembles when he sees him coming, but
nevertheless he runs to meet him, smiling, and his father acts as
though he did not see him but was thinking of something else.

Poor Precossi! He mends his torn copy-books, borrows
books to study the lesson, patches up the fragments of his shirt
with pins. Itis pitiful to see him in the gymnastic class, wearing
80 THE HEART OF A BOY

shoes that are so large that he can dance inside them, and wit
those long trousers which drag on the ground when he walks,
with a jacket too long for him, and those huge sleeves turned
back to the elbow. He studies and does his best and would be
one of the first in the class if he could quietly work at home.

This morning he came to school with the mark of a finger
nail on his cheek, and all the boys said to him: ‘‘It is your
father, you cannot deny it this timé; it is your father who did
that. Tell the principal and he will have him called before the
police magistrate.” But he arose and with a voice trembling
with indignation, said: ‘‘ No, itis not true! It is not true!
My father never strikes me !’’

During the lesson, the tears fell on his book, but if any
one looked at him, he made an effort to smile that he might not
show his feelings. Poor Precossi! To-morrow, Derossi, Co-
retti, and Nelli are coming to my house, to have lunch with me.
I want to ask Precossi to come also. I would like to give him
some books and to turn the house upside down to amuse him ;
and I would fill his pocket with fruit, so that I might see him
happy for once. Poor Precossi, who is so kind and good, and
who has so much courage !

A NICE VISIT
Thursday the rath.

This was one of the finest Thursdays in the year. At two
o’clock sharp, Deressi, Coretti, and Nelli, the little hunchback,
came to my hese; Precossi’s father would not allow him to
come. Derossi 2:4 Coretti were still laughing because they
had met Crossi,—-tke boy with the withered arm and red hair, —
the son of the green vegetable woman, in the street; he was
carrying a big cabbage in order to sell it so that with the soldo
he received he might buy a pen-holder, and he was so happy
because his father has written from America that they may
expect him back any day. Oh, how happy were the two —
THE HEART OF A BOY 81

hours which we passed together! Derossi and Coretti are the
two jolliest boys in school, and my father fell in love with them.
Coretti wore his chocolate-colored knit jacket and his cat-skin
cap. He isa lively fellow, he always wants to be doing some-
thing, stirring up something, putting something in motion.
He had already carried half a wagon load of wood early in the
morning; still he galloped all over the house, observing every- J
thing and talking all the time, nimble and quick like a squir-
rel; and’going to the kitchen, he asked the cook how much we
paid for our wood by the “ myriagramme,’’ and said that his
father sold it at forty-five centesimi. He always speaks of his
father who was a soldier in the 49th regiment at the battle of
Custozza, where he fought in the army of Prince Humbert.
Coretti is so gentle in his manner—It does not matter that he
was born and brought up surrounded by wood, he has a kind
heart, as my father says. Derossi amused us very much; he
knows his geography like a teacher, and he would close his
eyes and say:

‘‘ Behold, I see all Italy ; the Appennines which extend to
the Ionian Sea, the rivers which flow here and there, the white
Cities, the gulfs, the blue bays and the green hills.’ And, he
told rapidly and in order the correct names, as if he were read-
ing them from a paper. We all stood in admiration, looking
at him with that head, covered with blonde curls, held high,
and his eyes closed. So straight and handsome and dressed in
black with gilt buttons, he looked like a statue. In an hour,
he had learned by heart almost three pages which he must
recite the day after to-morrow at the anniversary of the funeral
of King Vittorio. Even Nelli looked at him with admiration
and affection as he wrapped the folds of his black rain-coat
around him, and smiled with those clear and mournful eyes,
That visit gave me much pleasure and left me something like
two bright spots in mind and heart. I was also pleased, when
they left, to see poor Nelli between the other two, large and
strong. who carried him in their arms, making him laugh as I
B2 THE HEART OF A BOY

never saw him laugh before. Returning to the dining-room, I
noticed that the picture of Rigoletto, the hunchbacked buffoon,
was no longer there; my father had taken it away so that Nelli
should not see it.

HE FUNERAL OF VITTORIO EMANUELE
Tuesday the r7th.

To-day at two o’clock, as soon as I entered the school, the
teacher called Derossi, who went to the teacher’s desk facing
us and began to speak in a vibrating tone of voice, raising it
by degrees and flushing in the face:

‘‘Hour years ago, on this very day, at this very hour, there
arrived in front of the Pantheon in Rome the funeral car which
carried the body of Vittorio Emanuele, the first king of Italy,
who died after having reigned twenty-nine years, during which
time the great Italian country, divided into seven different
states and oppressed by strangers and tyrants, had been incor-
porated into one single state, independent and free—a reign
which he had made illustrious with valor, with loyalty, with
boldness in danger, with wisdom in triumph, and with con-
stancy in misfortune.

“The funeral car arrived, laden with wreaths after having
gone through Rome under a shower of flowers, in the silence
of an immense and sorrowing multitude, which had come from
all parts of Italy; preceded by a legion of generals, ministers,
and others; followed by a retinue of crippled veterans, a forest
of flags and the representatives of three hundred cities; by every-
thing which embodied the power and the glory of the people; it
arrived in front of that august temple where his tomb was await-
ing him. In that moment, while the cuirassiers lifted the bier
from the car, in that moment, Italy was giving her last fare-
well to her dead king ; to her old king who had loved her so
much; the last farewell to her soldier, to her father; the last
THE HEART OF A BOY 83

farewell to the most prosperous twenty-nine years of her
‘history. i 5
“‘It wasa great andsolemn moment. The eyes, the souls of
all were quivering between the bier and the flags of the eighty
regiments of the Italian army, which were draped with crepe
and. carried by eighty officers, drawn up in a line to forma
passage, representing all Italy; eighty emblems which reminded
them of the dead, of torrents of blood, of our most holy sacrifices,
of our most tremendous grief. The bier, borne by the cuiras-
siers, passed them and they all were lowered together in an act
of salute; the flags of the new regiments and the old and torn
flags of Goito, Pastreago, Santa Lucia, Novara, Crimea, Pales-
tro, San Martino, and Castelfidardo; eighty black crepes fell
and hundreds of medals shook over the coffin, and that sono--
rous but confused uproar stirred the blood of all those present,
like the sound of a thousand human voices which were saying
together: ‘Farewell, good king, loyal king! You will live
in the hearts of your people as long as the sun shines over
Italy!’ After this, the flags were raised towards the sky,
and Vittorio entered into the immortal glory of the tomb.”

FRANTI EXPELLED FROM SCHOOL
Saturday the 2rst.

‘There was only one boy who could laugh while Derossi spoke
of the funeral of the king, and this one was Franti. I detest
him. Heisacoward. When the father of a boy comes to the
school to reprove his son, he rejoices over it; when one cries,
he laughs. He trembles in the presence of Garrone, and beats
the Little Mason because he is small; he torments Grossi be-
cause he has a withered arm; he jeers at Precossi, whom every
one else respects; he even sneers at Robetti, the boy of the sec-
ond-class who walks on crutches from having saved a child.
He provokes all those who are weaker than himself, and
when he fights he grows ferocious and tries to harm his op-
84 THE HEART OF A BOY

ponent. There is something repulsive in that low forehead, in
those turbid eyes, that he keeps almost hidden under the front
of his cap of wax cloth. He fears nothing; laughs in the face
of the teacher; steals when he gets a chance; denies everything
with a straight face, and is always quarreling with somebody.
He takes pins to school to prick his neighbors; tears the but-
tons off his jacket and off the other boys’ jackets and then
gambles them away. His satche! and copy-books are soiled
and torn, his ruler is battered, and his pen-holder is half
chewed up. His nails are bitten and his clothes are covered
with grease spots and with rents that he got while fighting.
He hates school, hates his school-mates, and hates the teacher.
At times, the teacher feigns not to notice his rascalities, and
then he does even worse. When the teacher treats him kindly,
the boy makes fun of him for it. Once the master said terrible
words to the boy, then the latter covered his face with his hands
and pretended to be crying, but he was laughing. He was sus-
pended from school for three days, but he returned more insolent
and wicked than he was before. Derossi said to him one day:
‘Do stop that! do you not see how that the teacher suffers?’’ -
And he threatened to stick a nail into Derossi’s stom-
ach. But this morning he was expelled from school like
adog. While the teacher was giving Garrone the rough copy
of the Sardinian Drummer-Boy, the monthly story for Janu- |
ary, to transcribe, Franti threw on the floor a petard which ex-
ploded, making the school-room resound as from a discharge
of guns. ‘he whole class was startled. The teacher rose to
his feet and cried:

‘Franti! leave the school! ’’

He answered: ‘‘ No, it wasnotI!’? But helaughed, and
the teacher repeated:

‘*Leavel”’

~ JT will not leave,’’ he answered. |

Then the teacher lost his temper and, grasping him by the

arms, he tore him from his bench. He tried to resist, grinding
THE HEART OF A BOY 85

his teeth, and was carried out by force. The teacher carried
him to the principal and then returned to the class and sat at
his desk, and held his head in his hands, all out of breath, with
such a worn and grieved expression in his face that it was
painful to look at him.

‘“ After thirty years that I have been teaching!’’ he ex-
claimed sadly, shaking his head. Noone breathed. His hands
were trembling. with wrath, and the straight wrinkle in the
middle of his forehead was so deep that it looked like a scar.
Poor teacher! They all felt sorry for him. Derossi rose and
said:

“Signor master, do not be so sorrowful, we love you.” And
then he looked a little more serene and said:

“Let us proceed with our lesson, boys.’’

THE SARDINIAN DRUMMER-BOY
(MONTHLY STORY)

During the first day of the battle of Custozza, on the twenty-
fourth of July, 1848, about sixty soldiers of an infantry regi-
ment of our army went to the top of a hill to occupy a solitary
house. They were suddenly assailed by two companies of
Austrian soldiers, who showered on them bullets from every
side. Our soldiers were hard pressed to find refuge in the
house and had time only to hastily barricade the doors, after
having left some dead and wounded on the outside. Having
barred the doors, our men hastened to the windows on the
ground floor and commenced a brisk discharge at the enemy,
who approached little by little, having arranged themselves in
a semi-circle, and returning the fire vigorously. The sixty
Italian soldiers were commanded by two subaltern officers and
a captain, an old man, tall and austere, with white hair and
mustache. They had with them a little Sardinian drummer-
boy, a lad a little over fourteen years old, who looked to be
scarcely twelve. He had asmall olive brown face, with two
86 THE HEART OF A BOY

deep little eyes which glittered with animation. The cap-
tain from a room on the first floor commanded the defence,
giving his orders like pistol shots, and no sign of emotion could
bz seen in that passive face. The little drummer-boy, rather
pale but stead y on his legs, having jumped upon a chair, leaned
against the side wall and stretched his neck to look outside the
window. Hesaw through the smoke the white uniforms of





the Austrians as they slowly advanced. ‘The house was situ-
ated on the summit of a steep incline and had but one little
high window in the roof on the side of the slope. ‘The Aus-
trians did not threaten the house from that side; the slope was
unencumbered and the fusilade only beat the front and two
sides of the house. : : ;

But it was a terrible fusilade. A shower of bullets fell out-
side, and inside cracked the ceilings, the. furniture, the shut-
ters and the door frames, filling the air with pieces of wood,
THE HEART OF A BOY 87

plaster, broken glass, whizzing, rebounding, breaking every-
thing, and making an uproar enough to burst one’s skull.
From time to time, one of the soldiers who were firing from the
windows would fall, crashing back upon the floor, and be taken
aside. Some staggered from room to room, pressing their hands
over their wounds. In the kitchen there was a dead man with
his forehead cut open. The semi-circle of the enemy was draw-
ing nearer and nearer together.

Ata certain point, the captain, who had been impassive
until then, began to grow uneasy and was seen rushing out of
the room, followed by a sergeant. After three or four minutes
the sergeant came running back and asked for the drummer-
boy, making him a sign to follow him. ‘The boy rushed up
the wooden ladder and .entered with the sergeant into a bare
attic, where he saw the captain, who was writing with a pencil
upon a piece of paper, leaning upon the little window. At his
feet upon the floor there was a rope which had been used to draw
water irom the well. The captain folded up the sheet of paper
and said brusquely, looking sharply at the boy with his cold
grey eyes, before which all soldiers trembled: ‘‘ Drummer-
boy!” a

The drummer-boy put his hand to his visor.

The captain said: ‘‘ Have you any courage?”

The eyes of the boy flashed.

“Yes, captain,’’ he replied.

“‘ Look down there,” said the captain, pushing him to the
little window, ‘‘ down the plain, near the houses of Villafranca,
where there is a glimmer of bayonets, ‘There are our men,

-motionless. ‘Take this note, grasp the rope, descend from the
little window, rush down the slope, through the fields, and
when you reach our men, ' give this note to the first officer
whom you meet. Throw off your strap and your knap-
sack,’’ :

The drummer-boy threw off the strap and the knapsack,

put the note in his breast pocket; the sergeant flung out the
88 HE HEART OF A BOY

rope, holding one end of it fast in his hands; the captain helped
the boy to get through the ile window, with his back turned
to the open country.

‘‘Look out,’’ he said, “‘ the salvation of this detachment
rests upon your courage and upon your legs!”

“Trust in me, captain,’ replied the boy, as he let himself
down.

‘‘Tean down on the slope side,’’ the captain said, again
clutching at the rope together with the sergeant.

‘‘Do not falter.”

‘© God help you.’

In a few moments the drummer- boy was on the ground, the
sergeant pulled up the rope and disappeared, the captain
stepped impetuously to the window and saw the boy flying
down the incline.

- He thought he had succeeded in running without being ob-
served, when five or six little clouds which rose from the
ground in front and from behind him, warned the captain that
the boy had been seen by the Austrians, who were shooting at
him from the top of the hill. Those little clouds were dust
cast up by the bullets. But the little drummer-boy continued
to run swiftly; all of a sudden he dropped. ‘‘ He is killed!”
roared the captain, biting his fist. He had barely uttered
these words, when he saw the boy get up again. ‘‘ Ha! it is
only a fall!’’ he mumbled to himself and breathed again. The
little drummer-boy had begun to run with all his might, but
he limped. ‘‘ He must have turned his ankle,” thought the
captain. Another little cloud arose here and there around the
boy, but each time at a further distance from him. “ He is
safe!’? the captain exclaimed in triumph, but he kept on fol-
lowing him with his eyes, trembling; because if he did not
reach the soldiers very soon with the note, asking succor, ali
his soldiers would be killed, or he would be obliged to surren-
der and give himself up as a prisoner with the others.

The boy ran quickly for a little time, then slackened his -

=
THE HEART OF A BOY 89

pace and limped, then he would start to run again, each time
more fatigued, and every once in awhile he would stumble and
pause. :

‘* Perhaps a bullet has grazed him,’’ thought the captain,
who was observing all his movements. Quivering and excited,
he spoke to him as though he might hear him. He measured
in a restless way, with a burning eye, the distance intervening
between the running boy and the gleaming of the weapons,
which he saw down below in the plain in the middle of the
corn-fields, gilded by the sun. Inthe meanwhile, he heard
the uproar of the bullets in the room below; the imperious and
encouraging cries of the officers and of the sergeant; the lament-
ations of the wounded; the breaking of the furniture and the
plaster. ‘‘Go on!’ Courage!’’ -he cried, following with his
eyes the little drummer-boy at a distance.

‘*Go ahead! Run! Oh, he stops, that cursed boy! Ah!
he begins to run again.”

An officer came to tell him, panting, that the enemy with-
out interrupting the fusilade, were hoisting a white cloth to
intimate surrender. ‘‘Let it not be answered!’ he cried,
without taking his eyes off the drummer boy, who was already
in the plain but not running any longer, and seeming to drag
himself along with difficulty. ‘‘Goahead! Run!” said the cap-
tain, clinching his teeth. ‘‘ Run, if you have to die, you rascal,
but run!” and he uttered a terrible oath. ‘‘ Ah! infamous
child! he has seated himself, that poltroon!’? The boy,
whose head up to this'time he had seen above the corn-
field, had disappeared as if he had fallen. After a moment
his head came up again, but he was soon lost behind the
hedges and the captain saw him no more.

Then the captain came down impetuously; the bullets were
showering, the rooms were crowded with the wounded,
some of whom were whirling around like drunken men, clutch-
ing pieces of furniture; the walls and the floor were stained
with blood, and bodies were lying across the doors; the lieu-
90 THE HEART OF A. 30Y

tenant had his right arm broken by:a bullet; the smoke and the
dust filled everything.

“* Courage !’’ cried the captain. ‘‘Stand to your place!
Succor is coming! Keep up your courage !”

The Austrians had come nearer and nearer the house; one
could see through the smoke their contorted faces, and could
hear among the crashing of the firing their wild cries, which
were insulting, suggesting surrender, threatening the soldiers.
Some of the frightened soldiers would leave the windows, and
the sergeant would push them forward again, but the firing
from the defense was growing weaker. Discouragement was
' visible on all faces; it was no longer possible to keep up a
resistance.

Suddenly, the firing of the Austrians slackened, and a thun-
dering voice cried, first in German and then Italian!. ‘‘ Sur-
render !’’—‘‘ No !”’ howled the captain from the window, and
the fusilade re-commenced more thickly and furiously from
both sides. Other soldiers fell. Already, more than one win-
dow was without. defenders; the fatal moment was imminent !
The captain cried in a despairing voice:

“They are not coming! They are not coming !’’ and ran
around furiously, bending his sword with his convulsive hand,
ready to die; suddenly the sergeant, rushing down from the
garret, uttered a loud cry of joy, shouting to the captain:

‘They are coming! ‘hey are coming !”’

‘‘ They are coming !’’ repeated’ the captain joyfully.

At that cry, all those who were: unhurt, as well as the
wounded, the sergeant and officers rushed to the windows, and
the resistance became more furious than before. In a few
moments, a certain hesitation was noticed and a beginning
disorder among the foe. Quickly, the captain assembled a
little troop in the room on the ground floor to make an exit
with the bayonet. ‘Then he ran up to the little window again,
Hardly had he reached it, when they heard a hasty tramping
of feet accompanied with a formidable hurrah, and from the










They darted out of the house wrth lowered bayonets.
THE HEART OF A. BOY 91

windows, they saw coming through the smoke the double-
pointed hats of the Italian carabineers, a squadron rushing
forward at great speed, and the lightning flash of blades whirl-
ing in the air and falling on heads, on shoulders, on backs.
Then the captain darted out from the door with lowered bayo-
nets. The enemy wavered and were thrown into confusion and
disorder. ‘They hastily retreated, and the ground was left un-
encumbered, the house was free, and two battalions of Italian
infantry and two cannons occupied the hill.

The captain, with the soldiers that remained, rejoined his
regiment, fought again and was slightly wounded in his left
‘hand by a ricochet bullet during the last assault with the
bayonet. The day ended with a victory for our men.

But the day after, having recommenced the fight, the’
Italians were overpowered, in spite of a valorous resistance, by
the overwhelming‘ numbers of the Austrians; and, on the
morning of the 26th, they had to retreat sadly toward the
Mincio river,

The captain, although wounded, made his way on foot with
the soldiers, tired and silent, and arriving toward sunset at
Goito, on the Mincio, looked immediately for his lieutenant,
who had been taken up with his broken arm by our ambulance
and who had ariived there before him. Some one had shown
him the church where a field hospital had been improvised.
He went there. The church was filled with wounded, lying
in two rows on beds and mattresses stretched on the floor. Two
physicians and several nurses were coming and going, busily
occupied, and one could hear suppressed groans and cries. As
soon as he entered, the captain halted and looked around for
his officer.

At that moment he heard himself called by a faint voice
very near him: ‘‘ Captain! ’’

He turned around; it was the little drummer-boy.

He was stretched on a cot bed, covered up to the breast with
a rough window curtain in red and white squares, and with his
92 . THE HEART OF A BOY

arms out; pale and thin, but with his eyes still sparkling like
two black gems.

““Ts it you?” asked the captain rather sharply, although
amazed. ‘‘ Bravo, you did your duty.’’

‘“‘T did all that was possible,’’ answered the boy.

“Are you-wounded?” asked the captain, looking for his
officer in the beds near by.

““ What could I do?’’ said the boy, who gained courage by
speaking, while feeling the satisfaction of having been wounded
for the first time; under other circumstances he would hardly
have dared to open his mouth in the presence of that captain.
‘‘T did my best to run bending down; they saw me at once. I
would have arrived twenty minutes sooner if they had not hit
me. Fortunately I soon found a captain of the staff and
gave him your note. But it was a very hard matter to run
after that caress. I was dying with thirst; I was afraid that I
would never arrive, and was crying with rage, thinking that
every minute delayed was sending another soul to the other
world. But that is enough; I have done what I could; Iam
satisfied. But, with your permission, look at yourself, captain,
you are losing blood.”’

And truly, from the badly bandaged hand of the captain
some drops of blood trickled down through his fingers.

“Do you wish me to tie up your bandage, captain? Hold
out your hand a minute.’’

The captain held out his left hand and stretched the right
one to assist the boy in untying the knot and tying it again;
but the boy, raising himself from his pillow with difficulty,
grew pale and had to lean his head back again.

“Enough, enough,’’ the captain said, looking at him and
drawing the bandaged hand away that the boy wanted to hold.
‘* Attend to your own affairs instead of those of others; things
that are not severe may become serious.”

The drummer-boy shook his head.

“But you,’”’ said the captain, looking at him attentively,














At that moment passed the military surgeon.
THE HEART OF A BOY 93

“You must have lost a great deal of blood to be as weak as
you are.’’ :

“Lost much blood?’’ replied the lad withasmile. “I have
lost more than blood. Look!”?

And he pulled down the cover that was over him.

The captain started back and stopped, horrified. ‘The lad
had but one leg left, the left one had been amputated above
his knee and the stump was bandaged with bloody cloths.

At that moment. the military surgeon, alittle. fleshy fellow .
in short sleeves, passed by. ‘‘ Ah! captain,’’ said he quickly,
pointing to the drummer-boy, ‘‘a most unfortuate case. A leg
that might have been easily saved if he had not forced it in
that foolish way; a cursed inflammation; it had to be cut off
away up here. Oh! but he is a brave lad, I assure you; he
has not shed a tear; he has not uttered a cry. I was proud
that it was an Italian boy while I was performing the
operation; upon my honor, he belongs to a good race, by
heavens! ’’ And he went away.

The captain frowned and looked fixedly at the boy, putting
the cover back over him; then slowly, as though unconsciously,
raised his hand to his head and took off his cap.

“Captain! ’’ exclaimed the astonished boy, ‘‘ what are you
doing, captain, and that for me?”

And then that rough soldier, who had never said a mild
word to one of his subalterns, answered, with an indescribably
affectionate and sweet voice: ‘‘I am nothing but a captain,
you are a hero!’’

_ Then he threw himself with open arms on the drummer-boy
and pressed him three times upon his heart.

THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY
Tuesday the agth.

As the story of the little drummer-boy has shaken thy heart.
wt ought to have been easy for thee this morning to write a good
94 A THE HEART OF A BOY

composition for the examination: ** Why Do You Love Italy ?””
Why do I love Italy? Did nota hundred answers present them-
selves to thee? I love Italy because my mother is Italian, because
the blood which runs in my veins ts Italian, because the dead,
whom my mother mourns and whon. my father venerates, are
buried in this soil, because the city where Iwas born, the language








hy

Me

Wye

that I . speak, the
books which educate
me, because my
brother, my stster,
and all my compan-
tons, and the great
peaple among whom
I dive, the beautiful country which surrounds me, and all that L
see, that I love, that I admire, is Italian. Thou canst not yet en-
tively feel this affection. But thou wilt fully do so wher thou arta
man; when, returning home from a long trip abroad, after a long
absence, leaning over the bulwarks of the ship, thou wilt seeon the
horizon the blue mountains of thy country; thou wilt feel it then,
THE HEART OF A BOY 95

wn the tmpetuous flood of tenderness which will fill thine eyes with

tears, and which will wring from thine heart a cry. Thou wilt

feel tt in some distant city, in the impulse of thy soul which will
push thee in an unknown crowd toward an unknown workman
from whom thou hast heard, in passing, a word in thy native
tongue. Thou wilt feel it in that proud and painful moment

when, with indignation which brings the blood to thy Sorehead,

thou wilt hear thy country insulted by a stranger. Thou wilt fea

at more strongly and valiantly the day on which hostile people shall

raise a tempest of fire upon thy country. Then thou wilt behold

arms on every side, and the young men running by legions, and

the fathers kissing their sons and saying: “ Courage!’ and the

mothers saying good-bye to the youths, crying: ‘‘ Conquer!”

Lhou wilt feel tt as a divine joy, if thou shouldst ever have the

fortune to see entering thy city the lessened regiment, ragged, terri-
ble, with the splendor of victory in their eyes, and their banners

torn by bullets, followed by a crowd of brave fellows, with their
bandaged heads and their stumps of mutilated limbs, in the midst
of a throng which will cover them with flowers, with blessings, with
kisses. Thou wilt then understand what ts love for thy country.
Thou wilt feel it then, Enrico. It ts sucha great and sacred

thing that, if one day I should see thee returning home safely
Srom batile fought for thy country, thee, safe! thou, who art my flesh
and soul! if I should know that thou hadst preserved thy life, that
thou hadst fled from death, I, thy father, who receive thee with a
cry of joy when thou returnest from school, I would receive thee
with a cry of anguish, and could no longer love thee, and I would
die with that poignard in my heart.
Thy Father.

ENVY

Wednesday the 25th.

It-was Derossi who wrote the best composition on ‘‘ The
Love of Our Country.’”’? And Votini thought he was sure of
96 THE HEART OF A BOY

getting the fitst medal! I like Votini very much, although he
is too vain and poses too much, but he displeases me, since sit-
ting near his desk, I notice how envious he is of Derossi. He
would like to compete with him, but he cannot do it, for Derossi
is ten times as clever in every way, and Votini bites his fingers
with rage. Carlo Nobis also envies him; but he is so proud
that he will not show it. Votini, on the other hand, embitters
hitnself. He complains of the difficulties at home, and says
that the teacher is unjust; and when Derossi replies to questions
so promptly and well, as he always does, Votini’s face clouds
over, he bends his head, pretends not to hear him, and makes
an effort to laugh; but it is a bitter laugh. All the boys know
how he feels, and when the teacher praises Derossi, they all
turn around and look at Votini, who swallows his venom, and
the Little Mason makes the hare face at him. This morning,
for instance, things went wrong with him ; the teacher enerel
the school room and announced the result of the examination :
‘‘Derossi, ten-tenths and first medal.’’ Votini gave a loud
sneeze. ‘The teacher looked at him; it was easy to understand
the matter.

‘* Votini,’’ he said, ‘‘do not let the serpent of envy enter
into your heat It isa serpent which gnaws the brain and.
mars the soul.

All looked at him except Derossi; noun tried to answer but
could not.

He sat there as though paralyzed, with his white face bent
down.

Then, after the teacher began giving the lesson, he com-
menced to write in large letters upon a small piece of paper:
Tam not envious of those who gain the first medal. through deceit
and favoritism. Jt was a notethat he wished to send to Derossi.
In the meanwhile, I saw that Derossi’s neighbors were plotting
among-themselves, whispering to each other, and one of them
cut with his penknife a large paper medal upon which a black
serpent had been drawn. Votini also noticed this.
THE HEART OF A BOY 97

The teacher left the room for a few minutes; suddenly, all
the boys near Derossi got up and left their desks to go and
present the medal to Votini ina solemn way. The whole class
was prepared for a scene.

Votini trembled like a leaf.

Derossi exclaimed: ‘‘ Give it to me!’

‘“‘So much the better,”’ they replied, ‘‘itis you who ought
to give it to him.”

Derossi took the medal and tore it into many pieces. At
that moment, the teacher returned and the class resumed the
lesson. I kept my eyes on Votini, he had become as red as a
burning coal ; he took the little note and slowly, as if absent
minded, rolled it into a ball, put it into his mouth, chewed it
for a while, then spit it out under the desk. :

- Coming out of school and passing in front of Derossi, Vo-
tini, who was a little confused, dropped his blotting paper.
Derossi kindly picked it up, put it in Votini’s satchel, and
helped him to fasten his strap. Votini did not dare to rais
his head.

FRANTI’S MOTHER |
Saturday the 28th, -

However, Votini is not yet changed. Yesterday, during
the lesson in religion, in the presence of the principal, the
teacher asked Derossi if he knew by heart the. two verses in
the Reader, beginning with

‘* Where’er I turn my gaze,
’ Tis Thee, great Lord, I see.”

Derossi answered ‘‘ No,”’ and Votini quickly said: ‘‘I know
them,’’ with a smile as though to taunt Derossi.

But he was balked, as he was not able to recite the chapter;
for suddenly Franti’s mother, followed by the principal, en-
tered the room, with her grey hair disheveled, all out of
breath, and all wet with snow. She was pushing forward her
98 THE HEART OF A BOY

sou who had been suspended from school for eight days. What
' asad scene we had to witness! The poor woman threw her-
self almost on her knees in front of the principal, clasping her
hands in a supplicating manner:

‘*QOh, signor principal, grant me this favor, allow my boy
to be readmitted to the school! I have kept him hidden at
home for three days; the Lord knows what may happen if his
father discovers everything. He may killhim. Have mercy,
as I know not what to do! I beg you with my whole soul!’’

The principal tried to take her out, but she resisted, all the
time begging and crying:

‘Oh! if you knew the grief and care that this son has
caused me, you would be moved to pity! I hope he may
change. . I have not long to live, signor principal. Death is
near me; yet I should love.to see him improve before I die, be-
cause’? —and she burst into tears —‘‘it is my child; I love
him; I would die in despair; take him back once more, signor
principal, in order that such misfortune may not come to the
family. Do it for charity to a poor woman!’’ and she covered
her face with her hands and sobbed.

Franti, impassive, stood with bowed head. ‘The principal
looked at him, remained in thought for a moment and then he
said: :

‘Franti, go to your place.”’

The woman was consoled. She took her hands from her
face and began saying: ‘‘ Thanks, thanks,’’ without giving
the principal a chance to talk, and started toward the door,
wiping her eyes, and saying hastily: ‘‘ My child, I warn you.
May all have patience. ‘Thanks, signor principal; you have
done an act of charity. Good bye, my child. Good day, boys. ©
Thanks, until I see you again, signor teacher, and do forgivea
poor woman.”’

Casting, from the door, another supplicating glance at her
son, she left, pulling up her shawl which was. trailing after
her, pale;-bent down, her head trembling, and we could hear
THE HEART OF A BOY 99

her cough as she was going down the stairs. During the silence
of the class, the principal looked fixedly at Franti, and then
said in an accent which made one shiver:

“ Franti, you are killing your mother!”

All turned around to look ut Franti, and that detestable boy
was smniling.

HOPE
Sunday the 25th.

“Lt was very beautiful, Enrico, the empetuosity with which
thou hast thrown thyself upon the heart of thy mother, upon your
return from the religious school. The teacher has told thee many
great and consoling things. God has thrown us into the arms of
each other, therefore, he will not separate us, when I die, when
thy father dies, we will not say to each other those terrible,
despairing words: mamma, papa, Enrico, [ will see thee no more!
We will see each other again in another life, where he who has
suffered in this life will be recompensed, where he who has loved
much upon earth will find again the beloved souls in a world
without faults, without tears, and without death; but we must
render ourselves worthy of that other life. Listen, my child, every
one of thy good actions, every one of thy loving thoughts jor
those who love thee, every courteous act toward thy companions,
every kind deed, ts a step toward that world, so ts every sorrow and
every grief, for every grief 7s an atonement Jor a fault, every
tear erases a stain. Resolve to be better each day and more lov-
wng than the day before. Say every morning to thyself ‘* To-
day I will do something that my conscience will approve of, and
with which my father will be satisfied; something which will make
me beloved by my companions, by my teacher, by my brother, and
by others.” And ask that God may give thee strength to carry
out thy resolutions: ‘‘ Lord, I wish to be good and noble, cour-
ageous, kind, and sincere, do help me to emprove every opportun-
wy, so that when my mother gives me her last kiss at night, [
100 THE HEART OF A BOY

may be able to tell her: ‘ Thou kissest thts evening a child more
worthy and more honest than the one you kissed yesterday,’
Have always in thy mind the other Entico, immortal and
blessed, so that you may live after this life, and do pray. Thou
canst not imagine the sweetness that I experience, how much
better thy mother feels when she sees her child with hands clasped



wn prayer. When I see thee praying, it seems wmposstble that no
one can look or listen to thee. TI believe then more SJirmly that
there ts a Supreme kindness and an Lnfinite pity, I love more, I
work with more ardor, I suffer with more courage, I forgive with
all my soul, and think serenely of death. Oh! God ts great and
kind. To hear once more the voice of thy mother, to meet again
THE HEART OF A BOY 101

my children, to see again my Enrico, my blessed and immortal
Enrico, to clasp him in an embrace which shall never be ended,
never, never, through all eternity! Oh, do pray, letus pray, let
us pray, let us love each other, let us be good, let us endure with —

heavenly hope in our souls, my adored child.
Lhy Mother.

FEBRUARY

A WELL AWARDED MEDAL
Saturday the ath.

This morning the superintendent of schools came to de-
liver the medals. He is a gentleman with a white beard,
dressed in black. He entered with the principal a few moments
before the class was over, and sat next to the teacher. He
questioned many, then he gave the first medal to Derossi; but,
befcre bestowing the second medal, he paused a few moments
to listen to the teacher and the principal, who were speaking to
him in a low voice. Atl the boys were asking each other:

‘“To whom will he give the second medal ?”’

The superintendent then said aloud: ‘‘ The second medal,
this morning, is earned by the pupil Pietro Precossi, who has
deserved it because of his work at home; because of his lessons;
because of his penmanship, and owing to his behavior in
general.’’

They all turned to look at Precossi, and it was evident that
they were pleased. Precossi arose, so confused that he did not
‘seem to know where he was.

“Come here,’’ said the superintendent. Precossi left his
bench and went to the teacher’s desk. The superintendent
looked attentively at that little wax-colored face and that lit-
tle body, clothed in those ill-fitting garments, at those sad eyes,
which avoided his gaze but which told their story of suffering.
102 THE HEART OF A BOY

Then he said to him, in a voice full of affection, while attach-
ing the medal to his bréast.

“ Precossi, I give you this medal. ‘There is no one more
worthy of wearing it than you. I award it not only to your
intelligence and good will, I award it to your heart, to your
courage, to your character, toa brave and good child. Is it
not so?’’ he added, turning toward the class, ‘‘ that he has
merited it on this account ?”’

““Yes, yes,” they all answered in one voice.

Precossi made a movement as though swallowing some-
thing, and turned his eyes toward the benches, expressing
great gratitude.

“Good, dear boy,’’ the superintendent said to him, ‘‘ may
God protect you! ”’

It was the hour to go out; our class left before the others.
As soon as we were outside the door, whom did we see there in
the large hall at the entrance? TYhe father of Precossi—the
blacksmith — pale, badly clad, with an ugly look, with his
hair over his eyes, his cap awry, and unsteady on his legs.

The teacher saw him at once and whispered something to
the superintendent; the latter looked in haste for Precossi, and,
taking him by the hand, moved toward his father. The boy
trembled. The boy. and the principal approached the father
and many of the pupils gathered around the group.

“‘You are the father of this boy, are you not?’’ asked the
superintendent of the blacksmith, with a cheerful air, asif they
were friends; and, without waiting for an answer: ‘‘I con-
gratulate you. Look, he has won the second medal among
fifty-four schoolmates. He has merited it in composition, in
arithmetic, in everything. He is a child full of intelligence
and good will, a brave lad who has gained theesteem and affec-
tion of all. You may be proud of him, I assure you.”’

The blacksmith, who had been listening with his mouth
wide open, looked straight at the superintendent and at the
principal, then looked at his son, who stood before him trem-
THE HEART OF A BOY 103

bling and with his eyes cast down. ‘The father looked as if he
remembered and understood then —for the first time — all he
had caused the little fellow to suffer, and all the kindness, all
the heroic constancy with which he had borneit. A certain
stupid admiration shone in his face, then a saddened remorse,
and finally a sorrowful and impetuous tenderness, and with a
rough gesture, he clasped the child in his arms and pressed him
against his breast.

We passed, before Precossi and invited him to come with
Garrone and Crossi to visit us on Thursday; the others saluted
him, some bestowed a caress upon him, others touched his
medal, and all spoke a kind word to him. And the father
looked at us stupefied, all the time holding the head of his son
on his breast, while the boy softly sobbed.

GOOD RESOLUTIONS
Sunday the 5th.

The medal bestowed upon Precossi has caused mea remorse,
I have not yet earned one! Because sometimes I do not study,
and I am dissatisfied with myself and the teacher; my father
and mother are also dissatisfied. I no longer experience the
pleasure I once felt in amusing myself, when I work unwill-
ingly and then dart from my desk and run to play, as if I
had not played fora month. I do not even sit at the table
with my friends with the same content that I once felt. I al-
ways hear that internal voice, like a shadow in my soul,
which constantly tells me: ‘‘’That is not right, that is not
right.”’

Isee, in the evening, going through the square, so many
boys who are coming back from work, in the midst of groups of
workmen, tired but merry, and who hasten their steps, impa-
tient to get home to supper. They speak lightly, laughing
and clapping their dark hands, soiled with coal or white with
plaster, slapping one another on the shoulder. I think that
104 | THE HEART OF A BOY
\

they have worked from sunrise up to that hour. I see many
others like them, who have worked all day on the top of roofs,
or in front of furnaces, or among machines, or in the water, or
even under the ground, eating nothing but a little bread, and
I feel almost ashamed, I, who during that time have been
doing nothing but scribbling unwillingly four little pages. Ah,
I am discontented, indeed! I well know that my father is
displeased with me, and he would like to tell meso, but he
feels sorry and waits a little longer—that dear father of mine
who works so hard. Everything is yours, everything I see
around the house, all that I touch, all that I wear, and ail
that I eat, all that teaches and amuses me; all this is the fruit
of your work, and I do not work. All these have cost you
many thoughts, privations and fatigues, and I do not toil.
Ah, no; it is too unjust, and makes me feel ashamed. I want
to begin from to-day; I want to put myself to study like
Stardi, with his fists clasped on his temples and with closed
teeth, to set myself to work with all the strength of my will and
my heart. I want to conquer my drowsiness in the evening,
get up early in the morning, exercise my brain without rest,
pitilessly cast off laziness. I will toil, I will suffer, till I
am ill, if need be. From now on I will put a stop to this lazy
and worthless life which lowers me and saddens the others.
Up, to work ! To work, with all my soul and with all my power!
To work, that it may render my rest sweet, my recreations
more pleasant, my meals more merry. To work again! and that
will restore to me the pleasant smile of my teacher and the
blessed kiss of my father.

THE LITTLE RAILWAY TRAIN

Friday the roth
Precossi and Garrone came to visit me yesterday. I think
if they had been two sons of princes. they. would not have been
received with mote delight. Garrone came for the first time.
THE HEART OF A BOY © 105

He is rather shy, and besides he feels awkward to be seen, as
he is so tall and still belongs to the third class. We all
went to open the door.when the bell rang. Crossi did not
come, because his father has at last arrived from America,
after an absence of six years. My mother kissed Precossi.
My father introduced him, saying, ‘‘ Behold, this is not only
a good boy, but he is also a man of honor and a gentleman.”
And the boy bowed his large, shaggy head, smiling in a con-
soling way to me. Precossi wore his medal, and was so
happy because his father had gone back to work. It is five
days since his father has taken any liquor. He wants
to have Precossi all the time in his workshop to keep him
company, and acts altogether like another man.

We began to play; I brought out all my toys. Precossi
stood in amazement before a railway train with an engine.
which runs by winding it up. He had never seen one before,
and he devoured with his eyes those little yellow and red cars.
I wound them up for him to play with, and he kneeled down
to play, and did not raise his head any more. I have never
seen him so interested and pleased.

He said, ‘‘ Excuse me, excuse me,’’ to everything, motion-
ing to us with his hands not to stop the engine, and he lifted
and put down the cars -with great care, as if they were made
of glass. He was afraid of tarnishing them with his breath,
and he polished them up again, examining them top and bot-
tom, and smiling to himself. We all stood and looked at him.
We were looking at that slender neck and those poor little ears,
that I had seen bleeding one day, and that large jacket, which
he wore with the sleeves turned over, and those two little
sickly arms, which had been raised’so many times to save his
face froma beating. Oh, at that moment I would have thrown
at his feet all my toys and all my books; I would have taken
the last piece of bread from my mouth and given it to him; I
would have undressed myself ‘to clothe him; I would have
fallen upon my knees to kiss him.
106 ; THE HEART OF A BOY

_ “Twill at least give him my little railroad train,’’ I thought;
but it was necessary to ask my father’s permission. At that
moment I felt a bit of paper thrust into my hand. I looked
at it. It was written in pencil by my father, and read. ‘‘Pre-
cosst has no toys. Does anything suggest itself to thy heart?”

Instantly I seized the engine and the cars with both hands,
and placed them in the arms of Precossi, saying:

“Take it; it is yours.’ He looked at it, but did not un-
derstand.

“It is yours,” I said. ‘‘I make you a present of it.’”’ ;

Then he looked at my father and my mother, still more
amazed, and asked, ‘‘ But why so?”

My father said, ‘‘ Enrico gives it to you because he is your
friend, because he likes you, and in order to celebrate your
medal.’’

Precossi,timidly asked, ‘‘ May I take it home with me?”’

‘“Certainly,’’ we all answered.

He was already near the door, but still did not dare to go.
He was so happy! He was begging our pardon with trem-
bling lips that smiled and laughed. Garrone helped him to
wrap up the train in his handkerchief, and -bending. down, he
made the things which he had in his pocket rattle.

““Some day,’’ said Precossi to me, “‘ you will come to the
workshop to see my father at work. I will give you some
nails.”’

My mother put a little posy in the buttonhole of Garrone’s
jacket for him to take to his mother in her name. Garrone
told her, with his big voice, ‘‘’Thanks,’’? without lifting his
chin from his breast. But his noble and good soul shone from
his eyes. : eek

PRIDE
Saturday the rrth.

Carlo Nobis cleans the sleeve of his coat affectedly when

Precossi touches him when passing by! He is vanity incarnate,
THE HEART OF A BOY 107

because his father is rich, but the father of Derossi is also rich !
He would like to have a desk all by himself, he is afraid that
every one who comes near will soil him, he looks down upon
everybody, and always has a contempttious smile upon his lips.
Woe to him who stumbles over his feet when we go marching
out two by two! For a mere trifle he flings an insulting word
in your face, he threatens to send for his father to come to the
school, and yet we know that his father gave him a severe
lesson when he called the son of the charcoal man a ragged
wretch! J have never seen so much pride. No one speaks to
him, no one says good bye when he goes out. ‘There is no
one who will prompt him when he does not know his lesson,
He likes nobody: and feigns to despise Derossi above all because
he is the brightest boy, and Garrone “because he is the most
beloved. But Derossi pays no attention to him, no more than
if he were not there, and when the boys tell him that Nobis
has abused him, he answers:

‘* He is so full of such stupid pride that he does not even
deserve my blows.”’

One day, when he was smiling disdainfully at Coretti’s cat-
skin cap, the latter remarked:

‘“ Go to Derossi and learn how to be a gentleman

Yesterday, he complained to the teacher because the Cala-
brian boy touched his leg with his foot. ‘The teacher asked
the Calabrian boy if he had done this purposely. ~

‘*No, sir,’ he answered frankly, and the teacher said:

““You are too fastidious, Nobis.’’ And Nobis replied with
that vain air of his:

‘*T shall tell my father.’’

Then the teacher grew angry: ‘‘ Your father will tell you
that you are wrong, as he has at other times, and that there is
no one but the teacher who can judge and punish in the schoul. ”
Then he added, pleasantly, ‘‘ Come, Nobis, change your ways;
be good and courteous toward your companions. You see they
are sons of workmen and of gentlemen; sons of the rich and of

1?
108 THE HEART OF A BOY

the poor. They are all fond of one another and treat one.
another like brothers, as they are. Why don’t you act as the
others do? It would cost you very little to be esteemed by all,
and you would be so much better satisfied with yourself.

“Well, have you nothing to answer?’’? Nobis, who had
been listening with that disdainful smile, answered coldly:
‘No, sir.’

‘© Sit down ;’’ said the teacher, ‘‘I pity you. You are a boy
without heart.’

Everything seemed ended, when the ‘« Little Mason,'’? who
sits on the first bench, turned his round face towards Nobis, who
sits on the last bench, and made a hare face, so fine andfunny,
that the whole class burst into a shout of laughter. The
teacher reprimanded him, but he was forced to put his hand
over his mouth to conceal a smile, and Nobis also smiled but
not pleasantly.

THE WOUNDS’ OF WORK
Monday the 13th. +

Nobis can be matched with Franti. Neither of them were
moved by the terrible sight which passed under our eyes this
morning. Coming out of school with my father, I was looking
at some big boys of the second class who had thrown themselves
on their knees to wipe off the ice with their cloaks and caps in
order to slide swiftly, when we saw coming down the street a
crowd of people, walking rapidly, all looking serious and fright-
ened, and speaking in low voices. ‘Among them were three po-
licemen, and following these, two men were carrying a litter.
The boys approached from every side. | The crowd advanced
toward us. Upon the litter was stretched a man as white as a
corpse, with his head hanging over upon one shoulder and his
hair stained with blood; and blood was also flowing from his
mouth and ears. Alongside the litter walked a woman with








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THE HEART OF A BOY 109

a babe in her arms, who acted like a lunatic and cried from
time to time:

‘‘Heis dead! Heis dead! He is dead!”

Behind the woman came a boy who had a satchel under his
arm and was sobbing.

‘‘ What has happened?” asked my father.

A man near him answered: . ‘‘ It is a mason who has enien
from the fourth story while he was at work.”’

The men who carried the litter stopped a moment. Many
turned their faces away in horror. I saw the little school
mistress with the red feather supporting the mistress.of the
upper first who had almost fainted. In the meantime, some-
body pushed me with his elbow, it was the ‘‘ Little Mason,’’
pale and trembling like a leaf. ‘He was surely thinking of his
father. I also thought of that. When I am in school my
mind is at ease; I know that my father is at home, sitting
at his desk, far from danger; yet, how many of my com-
panions are thinking that their fathers are working on a
very high scaffold or near the wheels of a machine; and
that a motion, a false step may cause their death! ‘hey
are like so many soldiers’ children, whose fathers are in daily
peril.

he ‘‘ Little Mason’’ looked steadfastly and trembled more
and more violently.

My father noticed it and said:

“Go home, boy, go and see your father, and you will find
him well and happy; go!”

‘The ‘‘ Little Mason’’ went, hee his head at every step.
In the meantime, the crowd began to move again and the
woman was screaming in a heart-rending way: ‘‘ He is dead!
He is dead! He is dead!’’

‘“ No, no, he is not dead,’’ they were telling her on every
side. But she paid no attention and tore her hair in despair.
J heard an indignant voice saying: ‘‘ You laugh!’’ and saw
a whiskered man looking in the face of Franti, who was indeed
110 THE HEART OF A BOY

smiling. Then the man knocked the boy’s cap off, saying:
‘“Uneover your head, you wicked boy, when a man who has
been hurt through labor passes!’ ‘The crowd had already
vanished and there was a long streak of blood in the middle of
the street.

THE PRISONER
Friday the r7th.

Ah! this is indeed the strangest case of the whole year.
Yesterday my father took me to the Moncalieri suburbs to
examine a villa to let for the coming summer (because this
year we will not goto Chieri), and we found that the man who
had the keys is a teacher as well as the secretary of the land-
lord. He showed us the house and then he took us to his
room, where he offered us something to drink. Upon the lit-
tle table, between the glasses, was a wooden inkstand, conical
in shape and carved in a peculiar way.

Observing that my father was looking at it, the teacher
said: ‘‘’That inkstand is very precious to me. Would
you like to know the history of it, sir?’? and he told it
to us.

Years ago he was a teacher in Turin, and wént every day
during the winter to teach the prisoners in the district jail.
He taught in the chapel of the jail, which is a round building.
All around the high and bare walls are many little square win-
dows with cross-bars of iron, each belonging to a little cell
inside.

He was teaching the lesson, walking up and down in the
cold dark chapel, and his pupils were peeping through those
holes with their copy-books against the iron bars, their faces
only showing in the shadow—frightful, frowning countenances,
with grey and rough beards and staring eyes, the faces of
thieves and murderers.






fle went every day to teach the prisoners in the jail.
THE HEART OF A BOY 311

There was one among them, in cell No. 78, who was more
attentive than the others and studied diligently. He looked at
the teacher with eyes full of respect and gratitude. He wasa
young man with a black beard, and more unfortunate than
wicked; a cabinet-maker, who, in a fit of rage at his master
(who had wronged him many times) had thrown a plane at
his master’s head, mortally wounding him, and on that account
had been condemned to several years of seclusion. In three
months he had learned to read. and write, and he read con-
tinually. ‘Ihe more he learned, it seemed, the better he be-
came, and the more he repented of his crime.

One day, at the end of his lesson, he made the teacher a
sign to come to the little window, announcing that the next
morning he would leave Turin to go and expiate his crime in
the prisons of Venice; while saying good-bye he begged him
with a humble and moved voice to allow him to touch his hand.
The teacher offered him his hand, which he kissed and said
“Thanks! Thanks!” and disappeared. The teacher drew
back his hand, it was wet with tears. Since that time he had
never seen him.

Six years passed. ‘‘I was thinking of anything else rather
than that unfortunate fellow,’’ said the teacher, ‘‘ when, the
day before yesterday, an unknown man came to the house.
He had a long black beard and was poorly clad. He asked
me: ‘Are you the signor master so and so?’ Who are
you? I asked of him. ‘I am the prisoner of No. 78,’ he
answered. ‘You taught me to read and write six years ago,
do youremember? At the last lesson, you shook hands with
me. Now, I have expiated my crime, and I am here begging
you to kindly accept a remembrance of me, a little thing which
I have worked at in prison; will you take it in memory of me,
signor master?’

“*T stood speechless. He thought that I would not accept it,
and looked at me as if saying: ‘Six years of suffering, are
they not enough to cleanse my hands?’ and he looked at me
112 THE HEART OF A BOY

with an expression of such deep sorrow that I instantly stretched
out my hand and took the object. Here it is.’’

We looked attentively at the ink-stand. It seemed as
though it had been carved with the point of a nail by dint of
assiduous patience. There was carved upon it a pen across a
writing book, and written around it, ‘‘To my teacher.—Re-
membrance of number 78.—Six years!’’ And below this
writing, ‘‘Study and hope.” The teacher said nothing
more, and we left.

All the way home, from Moncalieri to Turin, I could not
chase from my mind that prisoner, leaning on the little window,
that farewell to the master, and that poor ink-stand carved in
jail, which told such a tale. I dreamed of it all night, and was
still thinking of it this morning. But I was far from guess-
ing the surprise which awaited me at school! Hardly had I
gone to my new bench next to Derossi, and had written the
problem in arithmetic for the monthly examination, when I
told my companion all the history of the prisoner and about
the ink-stand and how it was made with the pen across the
copy-book and that inscription around it: ‘‘Six years !”’
Derossi sprang up at those words and began to look first at me
and then at Crossi, the son of the vegetable woman, who sat in
the front bench with his back turned toward us, all absorbed
in his problem.

‘“‘Hush !’’ he said, then, softly taking me by the arm,
“Don’t you know it? Crossi told me the day before yester-
day of his having caught a glimpse of such a wooden ink-stand
in the hands of his father, who had returned from America.
Instead, he was in prison. Crossi was so small at the time of the
crime that he does not remember, and his mother deceived
him. He knows nothing of it. Let not a syllable of this
escape you !”

I stood there speechless, with my eyes staring at Crossi.
Then Derossi solved his problem and passed it under the bench
to Crossi and gave him a piece of paper, taking from his hand














A boy, dressed as a peasant and with a bundle.
THE HEART OF A BOY 113

the monthly story, Papa’s Nurse, which the teacher had given
him to copy, in order to do the work for Crossi. He gave ‘him
some pens, patted his shoulder, and had me promise upon my
honor that I would not say anything to anybody else, and
when he left school he told me hurriedly :

““Vesterday his father came to take him home, he may be
there to-day ; do as I do.”’

We came to the street; Crossi’s father was there, standing
a little aside, a man with a black beard which was sprinkled
with white, badly clad, with a pensive and discolored face.
Derossi shook Crossi’s hand in a way that all could see him,
and said in a loud voice: ‘‘ Till we meet again, Crossi,’’ and
passed his hand under his chin; I did the same, but in doing
it we both crimsoned, and the father of Crossi looked at us
attentively with a benevolent look, but through it there shone
an expression of uneasiness and suspicion which caused our
hearts to grow cold.

PAPA’S NURSE

(MONTHLY STORY)
In the morning of a rainy day in March, a boy, dressed as
a peasant all saturated with rain and mud, with a bundle
under his arm, presented himself to the gate-keeper of the Pel-
legrini hospital in Naples, and handing him a letter of
introduction, asked for his father. He had a beautiful oval
face, dark and pallid, two pensive eyes, and two full lips,
half open, showing his beautiful white teeth. He came from
a village in the vicinity of Naples. His father, having left
home the previous year to go and seek work in France,
had returned to Naples, landing there a few days before this ;
when, having suddenly been taken ill, he had hardly had
time to write a line to his family, telling them that he would
enter the hospital. His wife, in despair on account of the
news, and not being able to leave the house because of her sick
114 THE HEART OF A BOY

baby, had sent her oldest child, a iad, to Napies with a few
soldi to assist his éab40, as they say there. ‘The boy had
walked ten miles to reach the hospital.

The gate-keeper glanced at the letter, called a nurse, and
told him to take the boy to his father.

““ Whose father? ’’ asked the nurse.

The boy, trembling for fear of sad news, gave his name,

‘The nurse could not remember any such name.

‘An old workman coming from abroad?”’ he asked.

“Yes,” said the boy, growing more anxious, ‘‘ not so very
old. ‘Yes, yes, he catne from abroad.”’

‘“‘And when did he enter the hospital?’ asked the nurse.

The boy looked at the letter and said: ‘‘ About five days
ago, I think.’’

The nurse stood for a moment in thought ; then suddenly
remembering: ‘‘Ah,’’ said he, ‘‘in the fourth ward, in the
farthest bed.”’

‘“‘Ts he very sick? How is he?” anxiously asked the lad.

The nurse looked at him for a moment without answering,
then he said: ‘‘Come with me.”’

They ascended two stairways, walked to the end of the
large corridor and came to the open door of a large ward with
a row of beds on each side. ‘‘ Come,” tepeated the nurse,
entering. The boy took courage and followed him, glancing
right and left with a frightened look over the white and ema-
ciated faces of the sick, some of whom had their eyes closed
and looked as though they were dead, while others seemed to
be staring into the air. as though frightened. A great
many were moaning like children. The ward was dark
and the air impregnated with the sharp odor of medicines.
Two sisters of charity were walking around with phials in
their hands.

Having arrived at the end of the ward, the nurse stopped
at the head of the bed, drew the curtains aside and exclaimed:
‘‘ Here is your father:”’
























































The sister drew the curtains saying, “This is your father.”
THE HEART OF A BOY 114

The boy burst into tears, and letting his bundle drop on the
floor, put his head upon the shoulder of the sick man, grasping
with his hand the arm which lay stretched outside the cover;
but the sick man did not stir. ‘The boy arose and looked at
his father, and burst into tears again. ‘Then the sick man
turned his eyes upon him for a few moments and seemed to
recognize him. But his lips did not move. ‘‘ Poor dabéo, how
he has changed !’” The child would not have recognized him.
His hair had grown white, his beard was much longer, his face
swollen and of a dark red color, his skin was stretched and
shining, the eyes had grown smaller, the lips were swollen; he
had not one familiar feature except the forehead and the arch
of the eyebrows. He was breathing with difficulty.

“ Babbo! Oh my babbo/’’ said the boy. ‘“‘ItisI. Doyou
not recognize me? I am Cicillo, your Cicillo, who came from
home, sent by mamma. -Look at me; do you not recognize
me? Speak just one word.’’

But the sick man, after ‘having looked at him attentively,
closed his eyes.

‘‘Babbo! Babbo! Whatisthe matter? I am your son,
your Cicillo !’’

The sick man did not move and continued to breathe with
difficulty. -

Then the boy, weeping, took a chair and sat down, and
remained waiting, without raising his eyes from his father’s
face. ‘‘ The physician will soon pass on his visit,’’ he thought.
‘* He will tell me what is the matter.’’ And he became buried
in sad thoughts, recalling so many nice things about his good
father: the day of his departure, when he had given his last
farewell to the ship, the hopes which the family had founded
on that trip, the desolation of his mother, and the arrival of
that letter ; and he thought of death ; he saw his father dead,
his mother dressed in black and the family in want. He
remained some time over these thoughts. laid on his shoulder. He started, it was a nun.
116 THE HEART OF A BOY

“What is the matter with my father?’’. he asked imme-
diately.

“Ts he your father?” asked the sister in a sweet and gentle
voice.

“Yes, it is my fafher and I have come here to see him.
What is the matter with him ?

“Courage, my boy,” replied the sister, ‘‘ the physician
will soon be here,’’ and she left him without saying another
word.

Half an hour later he heard the stroke of a bell and saw
the physician entering at the further end of the ward, accom-
panied by an assistant, followed by a sister and a nurse. They
began the visits, stopping at every bed. ‘The time of waiting
seemed an eternity to the lad. Every time the physician
stopped, his anxiety grew stronger. At last they arrived at the
neighboring bed. The physician was an old man, tall and
round-shouldered, witha grave face. Before he left the nearest
bed the lad arose, and when he approached him the boy began
to weep.

The physician looked at him.

““It is the son of the sick man,’’ said the sister, ‘“‘he arrived
this morning from his village.”

The physician laid his hand upon the boy’s shoulder, and
then bent over the sick man, felt his pulse, touched his fore-
head and asked some questions of the sister, who answered:
‘Nothing new.” He stood a moment in deep thought, then
he said: ‘‘ Continue the treatment as before.’’

The lad taking courage, asked in a sobbing voice : ‘‘ What
is the matter with my father?”’

‘* Have courage, my child,’’ answered the physician, replac-
ing his hand on his shoulder. ‘‘ He has erysipelas on his face.
It is a very grave case, but there is still hope. Assist him.
Your presence may do him much good.”’

“But he does not recognize me !’’ exclaimed the boy in a
desolate toue.
THE HEART OF A BOY 117

‘He may recognize you to-morrow, perhaps. Let us hope
for the best and have courage.”’

The boy would have been glad to ask him more, but he
dared not. The physician passed along to another patient.
And then the lad began the work of nurse. Not being able to
do anything else, he would fix the cover of the sick man, would
touch his hand from time to time, would chase the fies which
came near, would lean over him at every moan, and when the
nun brought the father some beverage, the boy would take
the glass and spoon from her hand and give it to him in her
stead. At times the sick man looked at him but gave no sign
of recognition. However, his gaze rested longer upon him -
than anything else, especially when he laid the handkerchief
over his father’s eyes. ‘Thus the first day passed. During the
night the boy slept upon two chairs in a corner of the ward,
and in the morning he again took up his work of mercy. ‘That
day it seemed as if the eyes of the sick man revealed a faint
trace of consciousness. At the caressing voice of the lad, it
seemed as though a vague expression of gratitude shone for a
moment in their depths, and once he moved his lips as though
he wished to speak. After a short nap he reopened his eyes
and seemed to be looking for his littlenurse. The doctor, pass-
ing twice, thought he noticed a little improvement. ‘Towards
evening, reaching the glass to his father’s lips, the boy thought
he saw a very faint smile glide over his face. He began to take
comfort and to hope. With the hope of being understood, at
least confusedly, he talked to him for along time, of mamma,
of his two little sisters, of the return home, and exhorted him
with warm and loving words, to take courage. Although
doubting if he were understood, still he talked on, because it
seemed to him that even if his father did not comprehend
him, he would hear his voice with a certain pleasure, a
tone of affection and sweetness being unusual in such a
place. .In this way the second day was passed. ‘hen the third
and the fourth, with alternating improvement and changes for
118 THE HEART OF A BOY

the worse, and the lad was so absorbed in his cares that he
scarcely ate even a bit of the bread and cheese which the sister
brought him twice a day. He took little notice of what was
happening around him; the nuns coming or going during
the night, or the outbursts of despair, and he scarcely saw the
sick and dying near him. He lived with his hope among all
those scenes of hospital life, which on any other occasion would
have amazed and grieved him. ‘The hours, the days passed
by, and he was all the time there with his 4a6d0, anxious,
agitated, watching his every breath and glance ; without any
rest to relieve his mind of a fear that froze his heart.

Suddenly, on the fifth day, the sick man began to grow
worse.

‘The physician, upon being questioned, shook his head, as
if he meant to say, ‘‘that is the end,’’ and the lad flung him-
self on the chair and burst out sobbing. One thing, however,
consoled him. In spite of the fact that the father grew worse,
it seemed to him that the sick man was slowly regaining a
slight consciousness. He looked at the boy more and more
intelligently, and with a growing expression of sweetness; he did
not want to take any portion of his medicine except from his
hand, and renewed oftener his strenuous efforts to pronounce a
word, and sometimes he did it so plainly that the child would
grasp his arm firmly, as though inspired by a sudden hope.
‘‘Courage, courage, babbo, you will recover, and then we will
go home to mamma; have a little more courage!”’

It was four o’clock in the afternoon, and at that moment,
the boy had abandoned himself to one of those outbursts of
tenderness and hope, when, through the nearest door of the
ward, a sound of steps was heard, and then a strong voice
spoke two words only: ‘‘ Farewell, sister,’’ which made him
jump to his feet with a repressed cry bursting from his
throat! _

In the meantime, a man entered the ward, with a large
bundle in his hand, followed by. a sister.
THE HEART OF A BOY 119

The boy uttered a sharp cry and stood there as if nailed to
the floor.

The man turned around and looked at him a moment, then
cried: ‘‘ Ciccillo!” and darted towards him,

The lad fell into the arms of his father without being able
to utter a word.

The sisters, the nurses, and the assistant physician, all ran
toward them filled with astonishment.



‘The boy could not recover his voice.

“‘Oh, my Ciccillo!’" exclaimed the father, after having cast
an attentive look at the sick man, kissing the boy again and
again. ‘‘Ciccillo, my child, how does it happen that you are
here? Have they taken you to the bed of another man, while
I was all the time in despair because I did not see you, for your
mother wrote me that she had sent you tome. Poor Ciccillo!
How many days have you been here, and how did this happen?
120 THE HEART OF A BOY

I have come out easily; Iam wellnow! Howis mamma ? Con-
cettella, and the baby, how are they? I am leaving the hos-
pital, come with me. Oh, great God ! who would have thought
of this |’

The child tried hard to speak a few words, to give the
family news. ‘Iam so glad!” he murmured, ‘‘so glad. And
what days I have passed here!”” He did not stop kissing his
father.

But still the boy did not move,

“Come along,’’ said the father, ‘‘ we can get home to-night,
Let us go.” And he drew the boy towards him.

The boy turned to look at the sick man.

“But — why don’t you come?” asked the father, amazed.

The lad cast another glance at the sick man, who, at that
moment, opened his eyes and stared at him; then from his soul
poured out a flood of words. ‘No, babbo, wait be-
hold, ——TIcannot. ‘There is that old man. I have been
here five days. He looks at me all the time. I thought it was
you. Iloved him. He looks at me incessantly. I give him
to drink and he wishes me to be near him. Now he is very
low; have some patience. I have not the courage, I don’t know
why it is, but I cannot leave him; it would be too painful for
me. I will return home to-morrow. Let me stay here a little
longer; it is not right that I should leave him ; look at the way
he gazes at me. I do not know who he may be, but he wants
me ; he would die if left alone. Allow me to stay, dear dabbo/”?

“Good little fellow!” cried the assistant physician.

The father stood there in perplexity, looking first at the
boy and then at the sick man. « Who is he?’’ he asked.

“A peasant, like yourself,’ answered the assistant, ‘‘ who
came from abroad and entered the hospital the same day you
did. ‘They brought him here in an unconscious state and he
has not been able to say anything since. Perhaps he has a
family, and sons far away. He may think that your boy is
one of his sons.”’ :




THE HEART OF A BOY 121

The sick man was still staring at the boy.

The father said to Ciccillo, ‘Stay!’

‘““He will not have to stay much longer,’? whispered the
assistant.

‘“‘Stay!’’ repeated the father; ‘“‘ you have a heart. I will
go directly home to relieve mamma of her suspense and anx-
iety. Here is a scudo for your expenses. Good-bye, noble
child of mine, till we meet again.’’

He embraced him, looked at him intently, kissed him again
on the forehead and went away.

The lad returned to the bed of the patient, who seemed con-
soled. Ciccillo again commenced to act as nurse, no longer
crying, but with the same eagerness and the same patience as
before. He again gave the sick man something to drink, fixed
his bed clothes, stroked his hand, and spoke to him sweetly, as
if to give him courage. He attended him all day, all the next
night and stood close to the bed the following day, but the sick
man grew worse and worse continually. His face began to
get blue, his breath was heavier, and his suffering became more
intense. Some inarticulate cries escaped his lips; the inflam-
mation was steadily increasing. In the evening, when the
physician came to make his visit, he said that he would not
live through the night. Then Ciccillo redoubled his vigilance,
and did not take his eyes off from him for a moment. ’ The
sick man looked at him and moved his lips from time to time
with a great effort as if tospeak. An extraordinary expression
would now and then gleam from his eyes, which were gradually
growing smaller and dimmer. That night the lad watched him
until he saw through the windows the first dawn of day, when
a sister appeared. She approached the two, cast a glance at
the sick man, and left with hurried steps. A few moments
after, she returned with the assistant physician and a nurse,
who carried a light.

“Tt is the last moment,’’ said the physician,
122 THE HEART OF A BOY

The Jad grasped the hand of the sick man. The latter
opened his eyes, looked at him, and closed them forever.

In that last minute, it seemed to the boy as though he felt
a pressure of his hand. ‘‘He has pressed my hand!’’ he
exclaimed.

The physician stood for a moment bending over the sick
man and then he rose to his feet. The sister took the crucifix
from the wall. ‘‘ He is dead,’’ cried the boy. :

‘*Good child,’’ said the physician. ‘‘ Your blessed work is
over. Go. May fortune smile upon you as you deserve. God
will protect you. Farewell!’’

The sister, who had gone away for a moment, returned with
a bouquet of violets taken from a glass on the window sill, and
handed them to the boy, saying: ‘‘I have nothing else to give
you. Take this in reniembrance of the hospital.”

‘“Thanks,”’ said the boy, taking the bouquet with one hand
and wiping his eyes with the other, ‘‘ but I have so far to walk
I would spoil it.’ And, unloosening the bouquet, he
scattered the violets upon the bed, saying: ‘‘I leave them here
in remembrance of the poor dead one. Thanks, sister. Thanks,
signor doctor,”’ then, turning to the dead: ‘‘ Good-bye,’’——,
while he was trying to think of a name to call him, there came
from his heart to his lips that sweet name by which he had
called him for five days. ‘‘ Good-bye, poor baddo.”’

Having said this, he put the little bundle of clothes under |
his arm and with slow and weary steps he went away. ‘The
day was just breaking.



THE WORKSHOP

Saturday the r8th.
Precossi alles last evening to remind me that I was to go
and see his workshop, which is farther down the street. When
I went out with my father this morning, I asked to be taken
there for a moment. As we approached the shop, Garoffi
THE HEART OF A BOY 123

came running out with a package in his hand, and the cloak
under which he conceals his merchandise was flying in the
wind. Ah, now I know where he goes to get the iron filings
which he trades for old newspapers, that trafficking Garoffi.
Peeping in at the door of the shop, we saw Precossi seated on
a pile of bricks, studying his lesson on his knees. He got up
quickly and bade us enter. It wasa large room filled with
coal dust. The walls were covered with hammers, pincers,
iron bars, and old pieces of iron of every shape. In a corner
there was a fire burning in a fire-place, and a boy was blowing
it with a pair of bellows. Precossi’s father stood near the
anvil, and another lad was holding an iron bar in the fire.

“Oh, here he is,’”’ said the blacksmith, taking off his cap.
“‘ Here is the boy who gives away railroad trains. You have
come to see us work a little, have you not? You will be satis-
fied.” As he said this he smiled. He no longer had that
contorted face and those bleared eyes which he once had. ‘The
lad handed him a long red hot iron bar, which the blacksmith
laid upon the anvil. He was making some curved pieces for
railings of balconies. He lifted the heavy hammer and began
to strike, pushing the red hot end one way and another, from
the end of the anvil to the middle, turning it around in differ-
ent ways. It was wonderful to see how the iron would bend
and twist under those rapid and. precise blows of the hammer,
until by degrees he shaped it into the form of a beautiful leaf
or flower, curled as if it might have been some dough which
he moulded with his hand. In the meantime his son was look-
ing at us with an air of pride, as if he wished to say, ‘‘ Do you
see how my father can work ?”’

‘““Have you seen how that is done, signori?” asked the
blacksmith when he had finished, putting in front of us the iron
piece which looked like a bishop's crozier. Then he took us
to one side and stuck another iron into the fire.

‘That is well done, indeed,’ said my father. ‘‘ You are at
work again now! ‘The good will has come back.”
124 THE HEART OF A BOY

‘Yes, it has come back,’’ answered the blacksmith, wiping
the perspiration front his brow and blushing a little, ‘‘ and do
you know who caused it to return?’’ My father feigned not
to understand. ’

‘“" hat brave boy,” said the blacksmith, pointing at his son
with his finger. ‘‘ That brave boy there. He studied and was
honoring his father, while his father was dissipating and treated
him like a beast. When I saw that medal—ah ! that little
fellow of mine, who is scarcely as tall as a penny’s worth of
cheese! Come here, that I may look you straight in the face!”

The boy ran immediately to him. The smith took him and
placed him on the anvil, holding him by the hand, saying: ‘‘ Do
clean the face of this beast of a father.’’

’ Precossi covered his father’s black face with kisses until his
own was also all black.

“That is the way,” said the blacksmith, placing him back
on the floor.

“That is the way, indeed, Precossi!’’ exclaimed my father
joyfully, and saying good-bye to the blacksmith and his son,
he took me away.

When I was going out, Precossi said to me: ‘‘ Excuse me,”’
and thrust a little package of nails into my pocket. I invited
him to come to my house to see the carnival.

When we reached the street, my father said: ‘‘ You have
given him your railway train, but had it been made of gold
and filled with pearls, it would have been a small present for
that child, who has reformed the heart of his father.”

THE LITTLE CLOWN
Monday the 2oth.
The whole city is in an uproar over the carnival season,
which is about to come to an end. ‘hey are putting up booths
and moutitebank tents in every square. ‘There is a circus tent
under our windows, where a small Venetian company gives
THE HEART OF A BOY 125

performances with five horses. The circus is in the middle of
the square and in the corner there are three large wagons, in
which the mountebanks sleep and where they disguise them-
selves. ‘Three small houseson wheels, with little windows and
a chimney, always smoking, in each one. Some baby clothes
ate hanging between the small

windows. ‘There is a woman
who nurses a baby, cooks, and
dances onthe rope. Poor peo-
ple! One speaks the word of ©
mountebank as though it were
an insulting one; yet, they earn
their bread honestly, amusing
everybody, and howthey work! ~
They run all day between the
circus and the wagons in this
cold weather, dressed in tights.
‘They eat two or three mouth-
fuls of bread and run here ~
and there between the perform-
ances. Sometimes, when the
circus is crowded, a wind rises
which tears the canvas, puts
out the lights, and the perform-
ance. must close. ‘hen they
are obliged to return the mon-
ey and work the whole evening
putting the tent in shape again.
They have two boys who per-
form tricks, and my father recognized the smailest one as he
was crossing the square. He is the son of a circus master, the
same one whom we saw play tricks on horseback last year in the
viazza Vittorio Emanuele, but he has grown since then. He
is barely eight years old, a fine looking lad with the pretty
round face of a gamin, with black curls which come out from







126 THE HEART OF A BOY

under his conical shaped hat. He is dressed like a clown,
wears a large bag-shaped suit with sleeves of white, embroi-
dered with black, and linen shoes. He never keeps still.
Everybody likes him. He does all sorts of tricks. In the
morning, we see him wrapped up in a shawl, carrying milk to
their wagon; then he goes to the stable in Bertola street and
brings the horses. He holds a little baby in his arms, carries
hoops, wooden horses, wooden bars, and ropes. He cleans the
wagons, lights the fire, and when he rests he is always near his
mother. My father watches him all the time from the window,
and talks with him about his own people, who seem to be very
good and to love their children.

One evening, we went to the circus. It was cold and there
were but few persons in the audience, but the little clown did
all he could to keep the small crowd merry. He would turn
somersaults, grasp the tails of the horses, stand on his head,
and sing, always smiling, with his pretty brown face. His
father was dressed in a red coat, white trousers with top boots
and a whip in hishand. It was really sad to see him watch
hisson. My father felt sorry for them and spoke about it the
next day to the artist Delis, who came to visit us. ‘‘’ Those
poor people kill themselves working so hard and still do so little
business !’’ He liked the little boy so much, what could be
done in their behalf! ‘The artist had an idea:

‘““Write-a beautiful articlein the ‘Gazette,’ he said, ‘‘ you
who write so well, you will tell of the wonderful performances of
the little clown and I will draw his portrait for you. Every-
body reads the ‘ Gazette,’ and for once, at least, the people wilt
rush to the circus.’’—So it was done. My father wrote a fine
article, full of witticisms, telling all that we see from the win-
dow—enough to make the people eager to know and favor the
little clown, and the artist sketched a little portrait, a very pretty
and good likeness, which appeared in the Saturday evening
“Gazette.” And, behold, at the Sunday perfermance, a large
crowd rushed to the circus. It had been announced ‘! Benefit
THE HEART OF A BOY 127

performance for the Little Clown’’—‘The Little Clown,”’ as
the ‘Gazette’ had called him. My father took me there into one
of the first reserved seats. They had posted the ‘Gazette’ beside
the entrance. The circus was crowded. Many of the spec-
tators held the ‘Gazette’ in their hands and showed it to the little
clown, who laughed and ran from one place to another, looking
very happy. ‘The master was also delighted. It is easy to
imagine that no paper had ever paid him so much honor before,
and the cash box was full. My fathersatnexttome. Among
the spectators we saw some acquaintances of ours. Near the
entrance where the horses came in, stood the teacher of gym-
nastics, the one who has been with Garibaldi. In the second
row in front of us, the ‘‘ Little Mason,’’ with his small round
face, was seated next to his father. As soon as he saw me
he made the hare face. A little further ahead, I saw Garoffi,
counting the spectators and figuring upon the point of his fin-
gers how much the company had taken in. Poor Robetti, the
one who saved the child from the omnibus, also satin a reserved
seat not very farfromus. He was holding his crutches between
his knees. At his side sat his father, the artillery captain,
who laid a hand on his shoulder. The performance com-
menced.—The little clown performed some marvelous feats on
horseback, on the trapeze, and on the rope, and every time
that he jumped down, all clapped their hands, and many
patted his curly locks. Then others of the company displayed
their skill in various exercises on the ropé. ‘There were jug-
glers and bare-back riders dressed in clothes glittering with
silver. But when the lad was not there, it seemed as though
the people were bored. During the performance, I saw the
teacher of gymnastics whisper in-the ear of the circus master,
who immediately cast a glance around the audience as though
looking for some one; his eyes rested upon us. My father
noticed it, understood all, and, in order not to be thanked,
went away, saying to me:
“Stay, Enrico, I will wait for you outside.’’
128 THE HEART OF A BOY

The little clown, after having exchanged a few words with
his father, gave one more performance, standing on the horse
while he was galloping. He changed his clothes four times,
appearing as a pilgrim, as a sailor, asa soldier and as an acro-
bat; and every time he passed near me, he looked atme. When
he came down he began to make the tour of the circus with
his clown hat in his hand, and all threw soldi and candies
to him. I had two soldi ready, but when he was in front of
me, instead of reaching out his hat, he pulled it back, looked
at me, and passed on. I was mortified. Why should he have
behaved like that?

The performance came to a close. ‘The circus master
thanked the people and every one got up and crowded toward
the exit. I thought myself lost in the crowd, and was
about to go out when some one touched my hand. I turned
around, it was the little clown, with his beautiful round face
and his black locks. He smiled at me, standing there with his
hands filled with candies. ‘Then I understood all.

‘« Will you accept these candies from the ‘little clown’ ?”’
he asked. I took three or four of them, then he added:

‘* Take also a kiss.”’

‘*Give me two,’’ I answered, and put out my face to him.
He cleaned his powdered face with his sleeve, put his arms.
around my neck and pressed two kisses on my cheek, saying:
‘< Take these, one for you and one for your father!’’

THE LAST DAY OF CARNIVAL,
Tuesday the arst.

We witnessed a very sad scene to-day in the Corso, during
the procession of the masks. Fortunately, it ended well; but
a great misfortune might have happened. In the piazza San
Carlo, which was all decorated with yellow, red and white
festoons, a multitude of people were thronging, masks of every
description were passing, gilded and decorated floats in the
THE HEART OF A BOY 129

shape of pavilions, small, theatres and boats, filled with harle-
quins, warriors, cooks, sailors and shepherds. There was such
a confusion that one did not know where to look, and sucha
loud clash of trumpets, cymbals and hurrahs, that it was deaf-
ening. The people in masks on the floats were shouting and
singing and addressing the people who were in the street and
at the windows, and who answered at the top of their voices,
and threw out oranges and confections. Above the carriages
and above the throng, as far as the eye could reach, one could
see little flags floating, helmets gleaming, plumes waving, and
all those pasteboard hats moving; gigantic caps, enormously
high hats, extravagant weapons, tambourines, castanets, and
all sorts of bottles; it seemed as though the people had all gone
crazy. When our carriage entered the piazza, a magnificent
float was just in front of us. It was drawn by four horses
covered with embroidered trappings, and upon the car, wreathed
with artificial flowers, there stood fourteen or fifteen gentlemen,
all masked as noblemen of the court of France, all shimmer-
ing in silk, wearing huge white wigs and plumed hats; each
carried a little sword, and wore a tuft of ribbon and lace
upon his breast, which made him look very handsome. They
were all singing a French song and throwing sweets to the
people, who clapped their hands shouting. Suddenly, upon
our left, we saw a man lifting a little girl above the heads of
the crowd. She was only five or six years old. The poor
thing was crying desperately and moving her arms as if taken

- with convulsions. ‘The man made his way toward the car of
the signori; one of the gentlemen bent down, and the man said
aloud:

“Take this child, she has lost her mother in the crowd.
Hold her in your arms, her mother cannot be far away and she
will see her; I do not see any better way.”

The gentleman took the child in his arms; they all stopped
singing; the child screamed and struggled; the gentleman took
off his mask; the car moved slowly. In the meanwhile, as we
130 THE HEART OF A BOY

were told later, at the other end of the square, a poor woman,
almost crazed, was breaking her way through the throng with
her elbows and shouting:

‘‘ Maria! Maria! Maria! I have lost my daughter! She
has been stolen from me! They have suffocated my child!’’
She raved in this way for a quarter of an hour, going here and
there, crushed by the crowd which prevented her from quick-
ening her step. In the meantime, the gentleman on the car
held the child pressed against the ribbons and lace on his
breast, looking over the piazza and trying to quiet the poor
creature, who, not knowing where she was, sobbed as though
her heart would break. The gentleman was affected; it was
evident that those cries reached his soul. All the others
offered the child oranges and candies, but she refused every-
thing, all the time becoming more and more frightened and
convulsive.

‘*Look for the mother !’’ cried the gentleman to the crowd.
“Try to find the mother !’’

People turned to the right and left, but the mother was not
to be found.

Finally, a few steps from the place where the via Roma
enters the piazza, a woman was seen rushing towards the car.
Ah !—I will never forget that sight !—She scarcely looked like
a woman, her hair was disheveled, her face distorted, her gar-
ments torn; she rushed along witha rattle in her throat, and
one could not tell whether it was of joy or of anguish, or even
of rage, and she threw out her hands like two clasps to grasp
her child. The car stopped:

‘« Here she is,’’ said the gentleman, and having kissed her,
he put her into the arms of her mother, who kissed her impet-
uously, but one of those little hands remained for a second
between the hands of the gentleman, who pulled a gold ring
with a large diamond setting from his finger, and with a rapid
movement slipped it on the finger of the little girl:

“Take it,’’ he said, ‘‘ this will be your marriage dowry.”’
THE HEART OF A BOY 181

The mother stood there asif enchanted. ‘The crowd loudly
applauded. ‘The gentleman put on his mask again, his com-
panions began to sing, and the car started off slowly in the
midst of a tumult of hand-clappings and hurrahs.



\

THE BLIND BOYS
Thursday the 2gth.

Our teacher is very ill, and in his stead the principal sent
the master of the fourth class, who was once a teacher in an
institution for the blind. He is the oldest of all the teachers,
_ and his hair is so white that it looks as though he wore a cotton
wig. He talks in a peculiar manner, asif singing a melancholy
song, but he is good and very intelligent. As soon as he en-
tered the school, he noticed a boy who had one eye bandaged;
he approached his bench and asked him what was the matter.

‘Take good care of your eye, boy,’’ he said, and then
Derossi asked him: :

‘Ts it true, signor master, that you have been a teacher of
the blind? ”’

‘Ves, for many years,’’ he answered, and Derossi said
softly: %

‘* Please tell us something about it.’’

The teacher went to his desk and sat down.

Coretti said aloud:

‘The institution for the blind is in the Via Nizza.”’

‘‘Vou say blind,—blind,’’ said the master, ‘‘as you would
say sick or poor people, or I know not what. But do you
thoroughly understand the meaning of that word? Think of
ita moment. Blind! Never tosee, never! Never to distinguish
the day from the night, never to see the sky, nor the sun, nor
even your own parents, nothing of all that surrounds us, nothing
that we touch; to be sunk into perpetual darkness, like
being buried in the bowels of the earth. ‘Try to close your eyes
fora few moments and think what itis to be obliged to remain
182 THE HEART OF A BOY

thus forever. You will immediately be overwhelmed with
agony and terror. It would seem to you impossible for one to
endure it: that you would grieve, that you would go crazy,
that you would die. Still poor boys ; when one enters an
institute for the blind during the recreation hours for the first
time, one would not think that they are so unfortunate as they
really are; one will hear them playing the violin and flute, talk-
ing in a loud voice, laughing, going up and down the stairs
with quick steps, and moving freely through the corridors and
dormitories. One must observe them well. ‘T‘here are youths
of sixteen and eighteen, robust and merry, who bear their
blindness with a certain ease; but one understands, from a cer-
tain proud and resentful expression of the countenance, how
much they must have suffered, before they became resigned to
their misfortune. There are others with sweet and pallid faces,
in which one can perceive so much resignation, but so sad that
it is evident that they still mourn at times.—Ah ! my children.
Think that some of them have lost their eyesight in a few days,
others have lost it after years of martyrdom, during which they
endured many terrible surgical operations, and many are born
into a night that never had any dawn for them ; they entered
the world as they would enter an immense tomb, and do not
know how a human face looks. Imagine how much they must
have suffered and how much they must still suffer when they
think confusedly of the tremendous difference between them-
selves and those who can see, and they ask themselves,—‘Why
such a difference if we are not to blame?’

“T spent many years among them, and when I remember
that class of unfortunates, all those eyes sealed forever, all
those pupils without expression and without li ght, and then
look at you boys—it seems impossible that you are not all
happy. Think of it! There are about twenty-six thousand
blind persons in Italy! ‘T'wenty-six thousand persons who
do not see the light! Do you understand? An army so large
that it would take hours for it to pass under our windows.”’


“HE HEART OF A BOY 183

The teacher was silent. Not a breath was heard in the
school. Derossi finally asked if it were true that the blind
have a finer sense of feeling than we.

The teacher replied: ‘‘Itistrue. Atl the other senses are
more acute in them; because having to replace the sense of
sight by the use of the other faculties, they are better exercised
in the blind than in those who can see. In the dormitories in
the morning, one asks of the others: ‘Is the sun out?’ And
the one who can dress the quickest runs into the court and
waves his hands in the air to see if he can feel any perceptible
warmth of the sun and then runs back to carry the news:
‘Yes, the sun is out!’ From the sound of the voice of a per-
son they form an idea of his stature. We judge the soul of a
man by the eye, they by the voice; they remember the intona-
tions and accents of a voice for years. ‘They can tell whether
there are one or more persons in a room, even if only one talks
and the others remain perfectly quiet. By their touch, whether
a spoon is clean or not. ‘The girls can distinguish whether the
woolens are dyed or natural color. They go two by two
through the streets. ‘They can tell the different shops by the
smell, even those from which we perceive no odor. They spin
the top, and, by listening to its humming, they go straight to
it and pick it up without any hesitation. They trundle the
hoop, they play nine-pins, jump the rope, build small houses
with stones, and pick violets as though able to see; they make
mats and baskets, weaving together the straws of different
colors quickly and correctly,—to such a degree is their sense
of touch trained. ‘The sense of feeling is their eye-sight. To
guess the shape of things by feeling them is one of their
greatest pleasures. It is affecting to see them when they are
taken to the Industrial Museum, where they are allowed to
touch anything they wish. They seize with eagerness upon
the geometrical bodies, the models of houses, and the instru-
ments. With what joy they rub, and feel, and turn over all
184 THE HEART OF A BOY

those things in ici hands, fo’see how they are made. They
call that seeing.’

Garoffi interrupted the teacher to ask him if it were true
that the blind boys learn to reckon faster than others.

‘The teacher replied: ‘‘It is true. “They learn to figure
and to read. ‘They have books made on purpose for them with
saised characters. ‘They pass their fingers over them, recog-
nize the letters, and speak the word, and read rapidly. You
ought to see how the poor fellows blush when they make a
mistake.. They also write without ink. They write upon a
thick, hard paper with a metal point which makes a great
many little hollows, grouped according to a special alphabet.
These little punctures stand out in relief on the other side of
the paper, so that by turning the sheet over and drawing their
fingers across it, they are able to read what they have written
as well as what other persons write, and thus they prepare
compositions and write letters to one another. They write
numbers in the same way and makecalculations. They calcu-
late mentally with incredible facility, not being diverted by
the sight of things around them as we are. Vou ought to see
how passionately fond they are of hearing some one read, how
attentive they are, how well they remember everything, how
they discuss subjects, the little ones as well, talking about his-
tory and language. Four or five of them sit together on the
same bench, and, without turning around, the first converses
with the third and the second with the fourth, aloud and all at
the same time, without losing a single word, so acute and ac-
curate is the ear! ‘They attach a great deal more importance
to the examinations than you, I assure you, and they love their
teacher more than you do. They recognize the teacher by his
odor as well as by his step. They can tell whether he is in
good or bad humor; if he is well or not; simply by the sound
ofa single word. ‘They want the teacher to touch them when
he encourages and praises them, and they feel his hands and
arms to express their gratitude. They like each other and are






The blind children at their niusic lesson.
THE HEART OF A BOY 185

good companions. In times of recreation, they always separate
into certain cliques. In the girls’ school, for instance, they
form groups according to the instrument which they play; the
violinists, the pianists, and the flute players, and they will never
separate. They seldom lose their affection for persons after
having once become attached to them. ‘They find great com-
fort in friendship. They judge correctly among themselves.
They have a clear and profound conception of good and evil.
No one becomes so enthusiastic as they when hearing of a
generous deed or of a grand act.”

Votini asked if they played well.

‘“They are passionately fond of music,’’ answered the
teacher. ‘‘ The love of music is the joy of their life. Some blind
children, when they first enter the institute, are apt to stand
for three hours perfectly motionless, listening to the music.
They learn music readily and play with a great deal of expres-
sion. When.the teacher tells one of them that he has no talent
for music, he is very sorrowful and begins to study desperately.
Ah! If you could but hear the music there! If you could only
see them when they play, with their heads thrown back, a smile
on their lips, their faces aglow and quivering with emotion,
listening in ecstasy to that harmony which pervades the ob-
scurity that envelops them, you would then feel what a divine
consolation there isin music! When the teacher tells one of
them: You will become an artist, his face brightens and he is
overjoyed. The one who is first in music, who succeeds better
than the rest at the violin or the piano, is like a king among
them; they love him; they venerate him. If there is a quarrel
between two of them, they goto him. Iftwo friends become
estranged, he reconciles them. The little ones whom he
teaches to play, regard him asa father. Before going to sleep
they all go and bid him good night. They talk of music con-
tinually during the day and at night when they are in bed,
almost all of them tired out with study and work and half
asleep, still they discuss, in a low voice, operas, composers,
136 THE HEART OF A BOY

instruments, and orchestras. Being deprived of the reading of
the music lesson is a great punishment for them. They suffer
so much from it, that we hardly ever had the courage to punish
them in that way. What light is to our eyes, music is to
their hearts.’’

Derossi asked if one could go and see them.

‘“Ves, any one can go,” replied the master, ‘‘ but you boys
must not go there yet. You may go later when you are ina
condition to understand the extent of their misfortune and are
able to feel all the compassion which it merits. It is a sad
sight, my boys! Sometimes, you see a boy there sitting against
an open window, enjoying the fresh air with an immovable
countenance, who seems to look at the green plain and the
beautiful azure mountains which you see and to think

.that he sees nothing, that he will never see any of that grand
beauty ! At that moment, your soul is oppressed as though
you had become blind.—There are those who are born blind,
who, having never seen the world, do not regret anything
because they have the image of nothing and these are less
to be pitied. But there are boys who have been blind only a
few months, who recall everything which they have lost, and,
in addition to this, they suffer the grief of feeling their minds
obscured, the loving image growing fainter and fainter until the
image of the persons to whom they were attached the most dies
outfrom their memory. One of these boys told me one day, with
inexpressible sadness: ‘I would like to recover my eye-sight
again just for a moment, that I might see again my mother’s
face. I do not remember it any longer!’ And when their
mothers come to see them, they put their hands upon their
faces, they touch them upon the foreheads and ears, to feel how
they are made, and they can hardly persuade themselves that
they cannot seethem. They call them by name time after time,
as if to beg of them to give them the power to see their mothers
just for once. How many people leave that place crying, even
hard-hearted men! When one goes there, it seems as though it


THE HEART OF A BOY 137

were an exception that you are able to see, a privilege scarcely
deserved, to see the people, the houses, the sky ! There is not
one of you, Iam certain, who, coming out from that place,
would not be disposed to deprive himself of a little of his own
eye-sight, if by so doing he might bestow a gleam to those poor
‘children, for whom the sun has no longer light nor the mother
a face!”

THE SICK MASTER
Saturday the 25th.

When I came from school last night, I. went to visit my
master. He made himself sick by working too hard. Five
hours of lessons during the day, then an hour of gymnastics,
then two more hours of evening school; which means to sleep
little, to eat by snatches, and to work breathlessly from morn-
ing till night. In this way he has ruined his health, so my
mother says. My mother waited for me below at the big door
and I went up alone. On the stairs I met Coatti, the teacher
with the bushy black beard, who always frightens the boys but
never punishes them. He looked at me with his large eyes,
and spoke with a voice like a lion’s, just for fun, but he did
not laugh. I was still laughing when I rang the bell at my
teacher’s door on the fourth floor, but stopped instantly when
the servant bade me enter a poor room, dimly lighted, where
my teacher was lying. He lay upon a little iron bedstead.
His beard was long. He placed his hand on his brow in order
to see me better, and said in an affectionate voice:

**Oh! Enrico.”

I approached the bed and he laid his hand on my shoulder
and said:

‘‘Good boy, you have done well to come and see your poor
master. I am reduced to a bad state, as you see, my dear En-
rico. And how is school getting on? What are your school-
mates doing? Everything goes well, does it not? And even
138 THE HEART OF A BOY

without me? You can do without me very well; isn’t that so?
‘Without your old teacher?”

I was trying to say no, but he interrupted me.

‘Come, come, I know that you do not dislike me,’’ and he
heaved a sigh.

I looked at some photographs that were hanging on the
wall. “‘Do you see,’’ he said, ‘’ those are boys, who through
the last twenty years have given me their photographs. ‘They
were good boys. ‘Those are my souvenirs. When I die, my
last glance will be given to them; my last thought will be of
those boys among whom I have passed my life. Will you not
also give me your picture when you are through the element-
ary course?’’ ‘Then he took an orange from his stand and put
it into my hand.

‘‘T have nothing else to give you,” he said, ‘‘it is the pres-
ent of a sick man.’’

T looked at him, and my whole heart felt sad.

‘“You must: take care,’’ continued the teacher, ‘‘I expect
to get out of this, but if I never should try to become
stronger in arithmetic; it is your weak point; make an effort;
as sometimes it is not the lack of aptitude but merely the ab-
sence of a fixed purpose, of stability, as one might call it.”

While he was saying this, he breathed with difficulty, and
I saw that he suffered. ‘I have an ugly fever,’ he sighed,
“Tam about gone. I beseech you then, apply yourself to the
arithmetical problems. If one does not succeed the first time,
he must rest awhile and then try it again; and then, if he does
not succeed, after a little rest, he must try once more. Go
ahead quietly, without tiring yourself, and without getting
excited. Go. Give my regards to your mother, and do not
mount these stairs again, we will meet in the school room
soon. If we should not meet, think sometimes of your teacher
of the third class, who has loved you so much.’’

I felt like crying when I heard those words.

‘Bend your head down to me,” he said.


THE HEART OF A BOY 189

I bent my head over his pillow and he kissed me on my hair.
‘Then he said ‘‘ Go,’’ and turned: his face to the wall.

I flew down stairs in a hurry, as I was anxious to embrace
my mother.

"SHE STREET
Saturday the 25th.

I was watching thee from the window this evening when thor
wert returning home from thy visit to thy teacher, and I saw thee
push a woman. Pay a little more attention and see how thou
dost walk in the street; there are duties to be fulfilled even there.
Tf thou measurest thy steps and gestures in a private house, why
shouldst thou not do the same in the street which ts the abode of
every one. Remember, Enrico, of thou shouldst at any time meet
a feeble old woman, a poor woman with a babe in her arms, a
cripple with his crutches, a man bending beneath a load, a family
dressed in mourning, make way for them respectfully. We must
respect old age, misery, maternal love, infirmity, fatigue, and
death. Whenever thou seest a person about to be run over by a
carriage, if a child, pull him away, of tt is a man, make him
aware of his danger. Always ask what ts the matter with the
child who ts alone and weeping. Pick up the cane of an old man
who accidentally drops it. If two boys fight, separate them, of it
zs two men, move away, do not look at a performance of brutal
violence which offends and hardens the heart. When thou seest
aman hand-cuffed between two policemen, do not add thy curiosity
to the cruel one of the crowd; he may be innocent. When thou
meetest a hospital litter, stop smiling and talking to thy compan-
ton, perhaps tt may be carrying a dying man, perhaps tt may be
a funeral procession, one as might come out from thine own house’
on the morrow. Look with respect at all those boys who come from
the different asylums, walking two by two; to the deaf and dumb,
zo those afflicted with the rickets, to the orphans, to the foundlings.
Think that itisa human misfortune and an object of pity passing.
140 TUG HEART OF A BOY

Always pretend not to see a person who has a strange or repulsive
deformity. LExtinguish the lighted match that thou wilt find at
thy feet, which might cause some one to lose his life. Always
answer with kindness the stranger who asks thee to point out the
way. Never laugh in any one’s face, never run without necessity,
and do not shout. Respect the street. The degree of education of a
person is judged more by the way he behaves in the street than by
anything else. A person who will offend in the street will offend in
the home. Study the streets. Study the city where thou lvest;
and, if to-morrow thou wert carried far away, thou wouldst be
glad to have it present in thy memory, to be able to rehearse tt in
thy thoughts, thy city; thy little home, that which has been for so
many years thy little world, where thou hast taken thy first steps
beside thy mother, experienced thy first emotions, opened thy mind
to the first ideas, and where thou hast found thy first friends. It
has been a mother to thee. It has educated thee. It has inspired
thee with noble sentiments, and protected thee. Study its streets,

ats inhabitants, and love it; and, if thou shouldst hear tt insulted,

defend it.

Thy Father.

MARCH

THE EVENING SCHOOLS
Thursday the end.

Last night my father took me to visit the evening school in
our Baretti school-house, which was all lighted up, and the
workingmen were entering when we arrived. We found the
principal and the teachers very angry because a short time be-
fore, a pane of glass had been broken out of a window with a
stone. ‘The janitor, rushing out, had caught a boy who was
passing, but Stardi, who lives opposite the school, had appeared
and said:
THE HEART OF A BOY 141

“Tt is not he. I saw who did it with my own eyes; it was
Franti who threw the stone; and he said to me: ‘be careful
not to tell on me!’ but I am not afraid.” :

The principal said that Franti would be expelled forever.
In the meantime, I was watching the workmen who were en-
tering two or three together. More than two hundred had
already entered. I had never seen how beautiful the evening
school is. ‘There were boys from twelve years old up, and.
whiskered men who came back from: work carrying books;
there were carpenters, firemen with black faces, masons with
their hands white with lime, bakers with their hair all pow-
dered, you could smell varnish, hides, beeswax,. oil, and odors
from all kinds of trades. A squad of artillerymen entered,
in their uniforms and led by acorporal. ‘They went quietly
to their benches, removed the board underneath upon which
we put our feet, bent their heads and commenced work
immediately.

Some of them went to the teacher and asked explanations
concerning the lesson. I saw the young, well-dressed teacher,
‘‘The Little Lawyer,’’ surrounded by three or four workmen
at the desk, making some corrections with his pen. I saw a
lame boy who lives witha dyer. He had a book all stained
with red and blue dyes. My teacher has recovered and he
was there, too. ‘Tomorrow, he will return to school. ‘The
doors of the class rooms were all open. When they commenced
the lessons, I was surprised to see how attentive they all were,
with their eyes fixed on their books. ‘the principal said that
the greater number, in order not to be late, had not even
stopped at home to eat a mouthful of supper and were hungry.
After a half hour of school, some of the younger ones could
scarcely keep awake ; some of them would fall asleep with their
heads on the desk, and the teacher would waken then: by
tickling their ears with a pen holder. The older ones kept
awake and sat with their mouths wide open, listening to the
lessons without even winking. It seemed strange to see all
142 THE HEART OF A BOY

those bearded men in our benches. We went to the upper
floor, and I ran to the door of my class room and saw at my
place a man with a large mustache who had his hand bandaged;
perhaps he had hurt himself in working around some machin-
ery, and still he tried to write,

What pleased me most was to see in the place of the Little
Mason, right on the same bench and in the very same corner,
his father as big as a giant, who sat there all curled up in such
a narrow space, with his chin on his fist and his eyes on the
book, so intent upon his lesson that he hardly breathed, and
he was not there by chance. he first night he came to school
he said to the principal:

“Signor principal, do me the favor of putting me in the
same place that my ‘hare face’ has.’? He always speaks of his _
son in that way.

My father kept me theré until the close, and when wecame
out, we saw on the street many women with babes in their
arms waiting for their husbands, and they would take the
books from the men and the men carried the children, and all
went home in that way. For a moment the street was filled
with people and noise, then all was silent, and we saw only the
tall and weary figure of the principal who was going home.

THE FIGHT
Sunday the oth,

It was what might have been expected. Franti, having
been expelled from the school by the principal, wanted to
avenge himself, and he waited for Stardi at the corner of the
street after school was over. When he was going by with his
sister—for whom he calls every day at an institute in via Dora
Grossa—Franti challenged him. My sister Silvia, coming from
her school, saw it all, and came home thoroughly frightened.
This was what happened: Franti, with his cap of wax-cloth
THE HEART OF A BOY 143

' drawn over his ears, ran. on tip-toe behind Stardi and pulled
his sister’s braid of hair, giving it such a strong pull that he
almost threw her on the ground. ‘The little girl uttered a cry
and Stardi turned around. Franti, who is very much taller and
stronger than Stardi, thought:

** He will not utter a word; or, if he does, I will break his
bones.”

But Stardi did not stop to reflect, and, small and thick-set
as he is, he jumped upon that big fellow and began to beat him
with his fists. However, he could not hold his own and was
receiving more than he gave. There was no one but girls in
the street, and they could not separate them. Franti threw
him on the ground, but he got up instantly, and then down he
went again on his back, and Franti pounded away as though
he were striking a door; ina moment he tore off half of his
ear, bruised one eye and made his nose bleed. But Stardi was
tenacious and roared:

‘* You may kill me, but I will make you pay dear for it!”’
And Franti was down again, kicking and cuffing, and Stardi
from under was butting him with his head and striking him
with his heels. A woman cried from the window: ‘‘ Bravo,
little fellow!’’ Others were saying: ‘‘It is a brother who
defends his sister.’’ ‘‘Courage!’’ ‘‘ Beat him hard!’’ And
they all shouted to Franti: ‘‘ You coward; you overbearing
brute!’’? But Franti was growing more and more ferocious,
and holding ont his leg he caused Stardi to fall and was on top
of him again.

“‘Surrender!’? ‘‘No!’’ ‘‘Surrender!” ‘‘No!”’? Ina
flash Stardi was on his feet; he grabbed Franti by the vest and
with a furious blow hurled him upon the pavement and fell
with his knee upon his chest. ‘‘ Ah! the infamous fellow! he has
a knife!’ cried a man, running to disarm Franti. But Stardi
was beside himself with rage and grasped Franti’s arm with
both hands, biting his fist so hard that Franti dropped the
knife. His hand was bleeding. Several more people had come
144 THE HEART OF A BOY

up by this time, who separated them and put them on their
feet again. Franti ran away in a sorry plight, and Stardi stood
there with his face all scratched, with a black eye, but the
victor.

His sister was still crying and some of the girls were pick-
ing up the books and copy-books which were scattered in the
street. ‘They were saying all around: ‘‘ Bravo! little fellow,
‘“who has defended his sister.” But Stardi was thinking more
of his satchel than of his victory, and immediately began to
examine the books one by one to see if there was anything
missing or spoiled. He cleaned the books with his sleeve,
looked at the pen, put everything back in its place, and then
as quiet and serious as ever, said to his sister: ‘‘ Let us
go, as I have a composition to write and four problems to
solve.”’

THE BOYS’ RELATIVES

Monday the 6th.

This morning Stardi’s father, a big, tall fellow, was wait-
. ing for his son, fearing that he might meet Franti again; but
they say Franti will not trouble us any more, as they are going
to put him in the reform school. Many of the parents were
there this morning. Among them was the wood-huckster, the
father of Coretti, whose son is a perfect image of him—quick,
jolly, with a tiny mustache brought to a point, and two colors.
of ribbon in the buttonhole of his jacket. I know the relatives.
of nearly all the boys from seeing them when they call for
them. There is a grandmother, bowed down, who wears a
white cap, and no matter if it rains or snows, she calls four
times a day to take to and from school her little grandson who.
belongs to the upper primary. She takes off his coat, fixes his
necktie, brushes him, polishes him up, and looks at his copy-
Dooks; one can see that she has no other thought, that she sees.
nothing in this world that is nicer than he. ‘The artillery
THE HEART OF A BOY 145

+ captain comes often, the father of Robetti, the boy who walks
on crutches and who saved the child from under the omnibus,
and as all the companions of his son as they pass salute him,
he returns the compliment to every one, and never forgets any
one. He bends down over each boy, and no matter if they are
poor and badly dressed, he only seems the more pleased and is
always ready to thank them.

At times we see some very sad things. One gentleman
did not come for a whole month, as his son had died, and he
sent a maid-servant for the other. Returning yesterday and
seeing the classmates of his little dead son, he went into a
corner and broke down sobbing, putting his hands over his
face. ‘The principal took him by the arm and led him into his
office.

There are fathers and mothers who know by name all the
companions of their children. ‘There are some girls of the
neighboring schools, and some High School pupils who
eall for their younger brothers. There is an old gentleman,

. who was a colonel, who, when he sees a boy drop a pen or a
book in the middle of the street, picks it up for him. One can
also see nicely dressed ladies who talk about school matters
with other women who wear handkerchiefs on their heads and
carry baskets on their arms and who say:

“It was a very difficult problem this time!’’ ‘‘ That
grammar lesson will never come to an end this morning !”

If any of the boys in the class are sick, they all know it;
when he gets better, they all rejoice. This morning, there
were eight or ten gentlemen, ladies, and working women
around Crossi’s mother, the vegetable vender, to inquire about
the poor boy of my brother’s class who lives in her court, and
who is very low. It seems that a school makes everybody
friends and equals.
146 THE HEART OF A BOY

NUMBER 78.
Wednesday the 8th.

Last evening, I witnessed a very touching scene. For
some time, whenever the vegetable woman passed by Derossi
she would look at him with an expression of great affection;
as Derossi, after having fourd out about the ink-stand and the
prisoner of number 78, has fallen very much in love with her
son Crossi, the little fellow with the red hair and the withered
arm, and helps him to do his work at school, prompts his
answers, gives him paper, pens, and pencils; in short, treats
him like a brother, as though to compensate him for his
father’s misfortune, which he understands perfectly well.

‘The vegetable vender had been gazing at Derussi for several
days and seemed loth to take her eyes from him. Sheisa
good woman and lives only for her boy, and Derossi, who
assists him to recite his lessons well, Derossi, who is a little
gentleman and the first of the school, seems to her like a king
or asaint. For several days she has gazed at him all the time
and acted as though she wished to tell him something but felt
ashamed. Vesterday morning, she at last took courage and
stopped him in front of the big door, saying:

‘« Please excuse me, little master, you who are so good and
who like my son so well, do me the kindness to accept this
little souvenir from a poor woman,’’ and she pulled from her
vegetable basket a white and gold pasteboard box.

Derossi blushed to the roots of his hair and refused it, say-
ing resolutely: ‘‘ Give it to your son, I will not accept any-
thing.’’

The woman looked mortified and begged his pardon, stam-
mering: ‘‘Idid not mean to offend you. They are nothing
but caramels.”

But Derossi said ‘‘ No’”’ again, shaking his head.

Then the woman drew from her basket a little bunch of
THE HEART OF A BOY 147

radishes and said timidly; ‘‘ At least accept these, they are
fresh; you may take them to your mother.’’ ;

Derossi smiled and said: ‘‘ No, thanks, I do not wish any-
thing. I shall always do all I can for Crossi. I cannot accept
anything, but I thank you just the same.”

‘* But you are not offended ?’’ anxiously asked the woman.
; Derossi said no twice, smiling, and left her; while she ex-

claimed with delight:

‘‘Oh, what a good boy! I have never before seen such a

nice boy as he is !”’
That appeared to

be the end of it;
but, behold, at four
o’clock in the fore-
noon, instead of the
mother of Crossi,
his father appears,
with his white and
melancholy face.
He stopped Derossi
and from the way
he looked at him, I
immediately sur-
mised that he sus-
pected Derossi
knew _ his secret.
He looked him straight in the eye and said, inasad and touch-
ing voice:

“Vou like my son. Why do you like him so well?’*

Derossi’s face grew as red as fire. He would have liked to
answer: ‘‘I love him because he has been so afflicted, also
because you, his father, have been more unfortunate than
guilty, and have nobly expiated your crime, and are a man of
heart.”

But he lacked the courage to say it; because, at the bottom


148 THE HEART OF A BOY

of his heart he still felt fear and almost loathing in the presence
of this man who had spilled the blood of another and who had
spent six years in a prison.
‘The man guessed everything, and, lowering his voice, he
said in Derossi’s ear, while trembling:
“Tf you love my child, you do not dislike me.—You do not
despise the father, do you?”
‘No! no! on the contrary,” exclaimed Derossi with a soul-
ful impulse.
Then the man made an impetuous movement as though he
wished to ptit hisarm around Derossi’s neck, but he dared not,
‘and instead he took one of his golden curls and smoothed it
between two of his fingers. Releasing it, he placed his hand
upon his mouth and kissed the palm of it, looking at Derossi
with wet eyes as if to make him understand that the kiss was
meant for him. He then took his son by the hand and went
away with hurried steps.

THE LITTLE DEAD BOY
Monday the 13th.

The classmate of my brother, who belongs to the upper
first, and who lives in the court-yard of the vegetable vender,
isdead. Mistress Delcati, all sorrowful, came, Saturday after-
noon, to inform the master of his death; Garrone and Coretti:
immediately offered their services to carry the coffin. The
dead child was a nice little boy. He earned the medal last
week. He loved my brother and had given him a broken
money box. My mother always patted him when she met him.
He wore a cap with two bands of red ribbon on it. His father
is porter at a railway station.

Last evening, which was Sunday, we called at the house to
go with the body from there to the church. We remained on
the ground floor. The court-yard was filled with boys of
the upper-first, with their mothers. and they were holding can-
THE HEART OF A BOY 149

dles. Five or six teachers and some of the neighbors were
also there. The teacher who wears the red feather and Mis-
tress Delcati had gone into the house, and we could see through
a window that they were crying, and we could hear the mother
of the child sobbing very loud. ‘Two ladies, both mothers of
two schoolmates of the dead boy, had brought two wreaths of
flowers. :

‘We started out at five o’clock sharp. A boy carrying a
cross was at the head of the procession, then a priest; after
the priest, the coffin—a very small one, poor child—covered
with black cloth upon which were laid the two wreaths of flow-
ers presented by the ladies. The medal and the hotiorary
mention, which the boy had earned during the year, were
fastened to the black cloth on the side of the coffin. Garrone
and Coretti with two other boys of the court were carrying the
bier. Behind the coffin, first of all, came Mistress Delcati, who
' wept as though the little boy had been her own child; behind
her, the other teachers; and behind the teachers the boys, some
of the smallest of whom were carrying bouquets of violets in
one hand, looking at the bier as if stupefied, their other hand
clinging to their mothers, who carried the candles for them.
I heard one of them ask: ‘‘And will he never go to school
again?’’

When the coffin was carried out of the court, a heart-rend-
ing cry was heard from the window. It was the mother of the
child, but they soon persuaded her to go back to her rooms. |
When we reached the street, we met the pupils of a boarding
school, passing in a double row, and, seeing the bier with the
medal and the school mistresses, they all took off their caps.
Poor fellow! - He went to sleep forever with his medal. We
shall never again see him with his red cap. He was in his usual
health, and yet ina few davshedied. The last day, he made an
effort to sit up and work at his lesson in word-lists, and
wished to have his medal on the bed, fearing some one might
take it from him. No one will ever take it from you, poor
150 THE HEART OF A BOY

child. Farewell! Farewell! We shall always remember you at
the Baretti school. Sleep in peace, little boy.

THE DAY BEFORE THE 14TH OF MARCH

This day has been a merrier one than yesterday. It is the
thirteenth of March! The eve of the distribution of the prizes
to take place at the theatre Vittorio Emanuele, the grand and
beautiful feast of every year. ‘This time the boys who have
to goon the stand and distribute the prizes as they are pre-
sented, are not picked up at haphazard. ‘The principal came
into the school room this morning, after the class was over, and
said:

‘‘T have good news for you, boys.’? “Then he called
**Coraci!’’ the Calabrian boy.

The Calabrian boy stood up. ‘‘ Will you be one of those
who carry the prize certificates to the authorities in the theatre
to-morrow ?’?

‘*Ves,’’ the Calabrian boy replied.

‘* Very well,’’ said the principal, ‘‘ then there will also be a
representative of Calabria, and it will be a fine thing. The
municipality has wished this year that the ten or twelve boys
who hand the prizes should be boys from all parts of Italy, chos-
en from the different public schools. We have twenty public
schools and five annexes, seven thousand pupilsin all. Among

such a large number, it was not difficult to find boys belonging
to the different regions of Italy. ‘T'wo representatives of the
Islands, a Sardinian and a Sicilian, were found in the Torquato
Tasso school house. ‘The Boncompagni school furnishes a
little Florentine, the son of a wood carver. ‘There is a Roman
born in Rome from.the Tommaseo school. ‘There are Vene-
tians, Lombards, natives of Romagna, a Neapolitan from the
Monviso school, the son of an army officer. Our school furnishes
a Calabrian, you, Coraci, and a Genoese, and including the
THE HEART OF A BOY 151

Piedmontese, that will make twelve. It will be very nice,
don't you think so? ‘Your brothers from all parts of Italy will
be there. When the twelve appear together on the stage, you
must receive them with a roar of applause. They are only
boys, but they represent the country as if they were men.
A small tri-colored flag is as much an emblem of Italy asa large
banner, is it not true? Applaud them very warmly; show that
your little hearts are all aglow and that the soul of a ten year
old boy grows enthusiastic in the presence of the holy image
of your country.” Having said that, he left.

The teacher, smiling, said: ‘‘ Well, Coraci, you are the
deputy of Calabria,” and we all clapped our hands and
laughed.

When we reached the street, they surrounded Coraci; some
of them took him by his legs, lifted him up, and carried him
in triumph, shouting: ‘‘ Hurrah for the deputy of Calabria!”
in order to make a noise, of course, not to make fun of him,
but rather to honor him with all our hearts, as he is a boy
whom everybody likes; and he smiled. ‘They carried him thus
to the corner of the street, where they ran across a gentleman
with a black beard, who began to laugh. ‘che Calabrian boy
said: ‘That is my father.’? And then the boys placed his
son in his arms and scampered away in all directions,

THE DISTRIBUTION OF PRIZES
March the rath.

At two o’clock in the afternoon, the theatre was crowded,
jammed full, with thousands of boys, ladies, teachers, work-
men, women of the people, and little children. There was a
flutter of feathers, a moving of hats, ribbons, and curls. A loud
and merry murmur was heard from every side. The theatre
was decorated with festoons of red, white, and green cloth,
They had built two little staircases from the stage down to the
152 THE HEART OF.A BOY

parquet: one on the right, for those who ascended upon it; the
other one to the left, by which they were to come down after
they had received the prizes. A row of red arm chairs were
placed on the front of the platform, and on the back of one of
the chairs hung a laurel wreath. At the back of the platform
was a trophy of flags, and on one side a green table, upon which
lay all the prize certificates, tied up in tri-colored ribbons. The
band stood in the parquet under the stage. The teachers and
the mistresses filled one-half of the first gallery, which had
been reserved for them. The seats and aisles of the pit, were
crammed with boys who were to sing, and they were holding
their music in their hands, In the background and all around,
one could see teachers and mistresses placing in due order
those who were to receive prizes; and their parents were giving
a last touch to their hair and a last pull to their neckties.

As soon as I entered a side box with my parents, I noticed
in the box in front of us the teacher who wears a red feather,
who laughed, showing the beautiful dimples in her cheeks,

‘and in her company was my brother’s teacher, and also the
“Little Nun,’’ all dressed in black; also with them was my
good teacher of the first upper, who looked so pale, poor
woman, coughing so hard that she could be heard from one
side of the theatre to the other. In the pit, I immediately saw
that dear big face of Garrone and the little blonde head of
Nelli, who was clinging close to his shoulder. A little further
ahead, I saw Garofh, with his nose like an owl’s beak, who was
making a great effort to collect the printed lists of those who
had won the prizes; he had already gathered a large pile
which he put to some use in bartering—as we will find out
to-morrow. Next to the door was the wood huckster with his
wife, both in their Sunday clothes, with their boy who was to
receive the third prize of the second class. I was astonished
to sce him without the cat-skin cap and the chocolate colored
jacket; this time he was dressed like a little gentleman. I saw
for a moment, in one of the galleries, Votini with a large lace
THE HEART OF A BOY 153

collar, and then he disappeared. In a proscenium-box, jammed
with people, there was the artillery captain, the father of
Robetti, the boy who walks on crutches and who saved the
child from under the omnibus.

At the stroke of two, the band began to play and at that
moment the mayor, the prefect, the judge, the state-attorney,
and many other gentlemen, all dressed in black, ascended the
stairway on the left and seated themselves in large arm-chairs
on the front of the platform. The band stopped playing, the
director of the singing school came to the front with a baton in
hishand. Ata signal from him all the boys in the pit arose,
and, obeying another signal, they commenced to sing. ‘here
were seven hundred who sang a most beautiful song! Seven
hundred voices of boys who sang together — how beautiful it
was! ‘The people were all silent, listening to that sweet song,
a limpid and gentle melody like a church chant. When the
song was ended, they all applauded, and then the organ was
silent again. ‘The distribution of prizes was about to com-
mence. ‘The little teacher of the second class, with his red head
and bright eyes, had already come to the front of the stage, as
he had to read the names of those who were to receive prices.
He awaited the entrance of the twelve boys who were to hand
over the certificates. ‘The newspapers had already announced
that there would be boys from all the provinces of Italy. They
all knew it, and expected them, looking eagerly toward the
side from which they would enter. ‘The mayor, the other gen-
tlemen on the stage, the whole theatre was silent. Suddenly,
the twelve*came running upon the stage and stood in line,
smiling. The whole audience — three thousand persons —
sprang to their feet at once, breaking into an uproar which
seemed like a roar of thunder. ‘The boys were for a moment
dumfounded.

‘‘ Behold Italy!’’ said a voice froma box. I recognized
Coraci, the Calabrian boy, dressed in black as he usually is.
A gentleman of the municipality was with us who knew them
154 THE HEART OF A BOY

all and was pointing them out to my mother: ‘‘ The little
blonde is a representative of Venice. The Roman boy is that
tall lad with the curly hair.’’ ‘There were two or three dressed
like the sons of well-to-do people; the others were sons of work-
men; but all were of good appearance and clean. ‘The Floren-
tine boy, who was the smallest of all, had a blue sash around
his waist. ‘They all filed in line in front of the mayor, who
kissed them on the forehead one after another, while the
gentleman nearest to him was telling him the names of the
cities which each one represented: ‘‘ Florence, Naples, Bo-
logna, Palermo ” And as every one passed, the audi-
ence would clap their hands. ‘They all moved toward the
green table to take up the certificates, and the teacher began to
read the list, calling out the different schools, the classes and
names, and those who received the prizes began to go up,
passing in line.

Hardly had the first one ascended, when from behind the
scenes a very soft music of violins was heard, which continued
during all the time they were passing; a gentle air, which re-
sembled the murmur of many soft voices; the voices of all the
mothers, of all the teachers and mistresses, as if they were
giving advice, begging, or administering loving reproofs all to-
gether. In the meantime, those who received the prizes were
passing one after another in front of those gentlemen sitting
there, who handed them the certificates, whispering to each
one a sweet word or bestowing a kind caress. The boys from
the pit and from the galleries applauded every time that a very
small lad passed, or one dressed like a poor boy, or those who
had an abundance of blonde curls and who wore red and white
garments. Some of the boys from the upper first would get
confused in passing and did not know which way to turn, and
the whole house laughed. One passed by, who was not more
than two spans high, with a large bow of red silk ribbon on
his back; he could hardly walk and stumbled upon the carpet
and fell; the prefect put him on his feet again, and they all


=

THE HEART OF A BOY 155

iaughed and clapped their hands. Another lad stumbled in
going down the stairway into the pit. Some people shouted,
but he was not hurt. All sorts of boys passed; some with
roguish faces, some with faces as red as cherries, some very
small and cunning ones, who laughed in the face of everybody
and as soon as they came down into the pit, were taken
away by their fathers and mothers. When it came the turn of
our school, I was very much amused. Many passed by that I
knew; Coretti, newly dressed from head to foot, with that
beautiful merry smile of his showin g all his white teeth. Who
knows how many myriagrams of wood he had carried that
morning? When the mayor handed him his certificate, he
asked him the meaning of the red mark which he had on his
forehead, and in doing so laid one hand on his shoulder, I
looked around in the pit and noticed his father and mother.
They were laughing, covering their mouths with their hands.
Then Derossi passed by, all dressed in blue with shining but-
‘ons, with his golden curls, holding his head high, so hand-
some, so sympathetic, that I wished to throw him a kiss, while
all those gentlemen wanted to speak and shake hands with him.
The teacher cried out: ‘‘Giulio Robetti!” And the son of
the artillery captain was seen coming on his crutches. Hun-
dreds of boys knew of the occurrence and the news was scat-
tered around in a moment; a tempest of applause broke out
which made the theatre tremble; the men rose to their feet, the
ladies began to wave their handkerchiefs, and the poor boy
halted in the middle of the stage, astounded and trembling.
The mayor drew him to his side, gave him the prize and kissed
him, and taking the laurel wreath from the large chair, he
placed it on the bar of one of his crutches. ‘Then he escorted
him as far as the proscenium-box, where his father was seated,
and the latter lifted him bodily and placed him inside, in the
midst of an indescribable shouting of ‘‘ Bravo! Murrah!’
During all this time, the soft, gentle music of the violins con-
tinued to fill the ear, and the boys were still passing; those of
156 THE HEART OF A BOY

the Consolata, almost all sons of workmen; those of the Bon- °
compagni, of whom many were farmers’ boys; those of the
Rayneri school, who were the last of all to pass.

As soon as it was over, the seven hundred boys in the pit
sang another most beautiful song. ‘Then the mayor spoke, and
after him the judge, who terminated his speech by saying to
the boys:

‘But do not leave this place without giving a salute to.
those who toil hard for you and who have consecrated to you
all their power, all their intelligence, all their heart, who live
and die for you. ‘There they are!’’ and he pointed to the gal-
lery where the teachers were; and from the galleries, from the
boxes, from the pit, all the boys arose and extended their arms
toward the teachers and mistresses, who answered by waving
their hands, hats and handkerchiefs, all standing, with a feel-.
ing of deepest emotion in their hearts. After this, the band
played again and the audience sent a last noisy salute to the
twelve boys from all the provinces of Italy, who presented them-
selves at the proscenium in line with their hands interlaced and
under a shower of bouquets!

A QUARREL
Monday the 20th.

It was not on account of envy because he had won the first
prize and not myself, that I quarreled with Coretti this morn-
ing. No, it was not on account of envy; still I was in the
wrong. ‘The teacher had placed him next to me; I was writing
upon my copy-book and he pushed me with his elbow and
caused me to make a blot and spoil the monthly story, ‘‘ Blood’
of Romagna,” which I had to copy for the ‘‘ Little Mason”’
who is sick. I got angry and said a rude word to him.

He smilingly answered: ‘‘I did not do it purposely.”’

T ought to have believed him, for I know him; but he vexed
me because he smiled, and I thought: ‘‘Oh, now that he has
THE HEART OF A BOY 157

had the first prize, he has grown proud.’’ And, soon after,
to avenge myself, I gave him a push which spoiled a whoie
page. | |

He reddened with anger and said to me: ‘‘ You did that
purposely,’ and lifted up his hand.

The teacher saw him and he putit downagain,. but he added:
“JT will wait for you outside!”

I felt ill at ease; my anger cooled off and I repented. No,
Coretti could not have done it purposely; he is good, I thought.
I remember when I saw him at his home, how he worked and
how he assisted his sick mother, and then how warmly I had
welcomed him at my home, and how well my father had liked
him. How much I would have givenif I had not said that
tude word; if I had not insulted him! ‘The advice which my
father had given me came to my mind.

‘‘Are you in the wrong?’”? ‘‘Yes.’’ ‘‘ Then ask his

“pardon.”

But this I did not daretodo. I was afraid to humiliate
myself. I looked at him from the corner of my eye; I saw his
coat was ripped on the shoulder, perhaps because he had car-
ried too much wood. I felt that I liked him, and I said to my-
self: ‘‘Courage!’’ but the words, ‘‘I beg your pardon,’’ stuck
in my throat. .

He looked at me askance from time to time and seemed to
be more worried than angry. But then I also looked at him
disdainfully, to show him that I was not afraid.

He repeated: ‘‘ We will meet outside!’’ and I, ‘‘ We will
meet outside!’? But I was thinking of what my father had
told me once: ‘‘If thou art wrong, defend thyself, but do not
strike!’’

And I said to myself: ‘‘ I will defend myself, but I will
not strike.’’

However, I felt discontented and sad. I could no longer
listen to the teacher.

At last the school closed. "When I.was in the street alone,
158 THE HEART OF A BOY

I saw that Coretti was following me. I halted and stood stiit,
awaiting him with my ruler in my hand.

He approached me, I raised the ruler. No, Enrico,’'
said he, with his kind smile, putting aside the ruler with his
hand, ‘‘let us be friends again as before.”’

I was stupified for a moment, then I felt as though a hand
had pushed my shoulder, and I found myself in his arms.

He kissed me and said: ‘‘ No more quarrels between us!’’

" “No, never! Never! Never!’’ I answered. We sep-
arated satisfied. But when I ran home and told all to my
father, thinking to please him, he frowned and said:

“You ought to have been the first one to extend your hand
because you were wrong!’ Then he added: ‘‘ You ought
not to have raised the ruler upon a schoolmate better than
yourself; upon the son of a soldier!”’ And snatching the
ruler from my hand, he broke it in pieces and threw it against
the wall.

MY SISTER

Friday the 2gth.

Why is it, Enrico, that, after our father had reproved you for
having behaved so badly with Coretti, you have still been so unkind
tome? You cannot imagine the grief I have felt. Do you know
that when you were a baby, I would stand hours and hours beside
your cradle instead of going to amuse myself with my compan-
ions; and when you were sick, IT would leave my bed in the middle
of the night to see if your forehead was hot? Do you not know
that tf a terrible mishap should strike us, I would act as a mother
to you, I would love you? Do you not know that when our father
and mother will not be any longer here below, I will be your best
friend? The only one with whom you may be able to speak of our
bereaved dead, and of your childhood! And that of it were neces-
sary, I would work for you, Enrico, in order to earn bread and to
allow you to study, and that I will always love you when you are
THE HEART OF A BOY 159

aman, and that [wiil follow you with my thoughts when you go far
away, because we have grown up together and we have the same
blood in our veins! Oh, Enrico, be sure that when you area
man, if a misfortune should befall you, if you should be alone, be
sure that you will look for me, that you will come to me and cry:
‘* Silvia, my sister, allow me to stay with you! Let us speak of
the times when we were happy, do you remember? Let us speak
of our mother, of our home, of the thousand beautiful days, so far



away!’ Oh, Enrico, you will always find your sister with her
arms open to you. Yes, dear Enrico, forgive me also for the
reproof that I have bestowed upon you. Now, I shall never
remember any wrong on your part; and, even if you should
cause me other sorrows, what do I care? You will always be my
brother just the same. I shall only recollect my having held you tn
my arms when you were a baby; of having loved father and :

mother with you, of having seen you grow up, and of having
160 THE HEART OF A BOY

been for many years your trusted companion! But do writemea
good word upon this very writing-book, and I will get it and
read tt before evening. In the meantime, to show you that lam
not angry with you, seeing that you were tired, I have copied the
monthly story, ‘‘ Blood of Romagna,’ which you had to do for the
“* Little Mason,’ who ts sick. Look in the drawer at the left of
your desk. I wrote it last night while you were asleep. TI beg of

you, Enrico, write a good word to me.
Your Sister Silvia.

Dear Sister:
Lam not worthy to kiss your hand,
Enrico.

BLOOD OF ROMAGNA

(MONTHLY STORY)

The house of Ferruccio was quieter than usual that eve-
ning. ‘The father, who kept a little dry-goods store, had gone
to Forli to make some purchases and his wife had accompanied
him, taking with them the little girl, Luigina, to see a doctor
who was to perform an operation upon one of her eyes which
had become diseased;, and they would not return before the
next morningx It was nearly midnight. The woman who
came to work by the day had gone at sunset. ‘There was no
one in the house but the grandmother, whose lower limbs were
paralyzed, and Ferruccio, a boy of thirteen. It was a small
house with only a ground floor. It was situated upon the
highway, within gunshot of the village, a little distance from
Forli, a city in Romagna. Next to this dwelling there was an
empty house, which had been partly burned two months before,
and upon which one could still see the sign of aninn. There
was a small vegetable garden behind the little house, and it
was surrounded by a hedge through which opened a small rustic
gate. The door of the shop served as house-door also and
opened upon the highway. A deserted country extended on


A mother dreaming of her absent boy.
THE HEART OF A BOY 141

every side, vast cultivated fields planted with mulberry trees.
It was nearly midnight. Rain fell and the wind blew.
Ferruccio and the grandmother were still up and were sitting
in the dining-room, between which and the garden was a little
room encumbered with old pieces of furniture. Ferruccio did
not come home until eleven that night, after an absence of sev-
eral hours, and the grandmother had expected him with open
eyes, full of anxiety. She was sitting in a large arm-chair,
where she was accustomed to pass the whole day, and, at times,
even the whole night, as an oppression of breath would not
allow her to lie down.

_ The wind dashed the
rain against the window
panes; the night was very
dark. Ferruccio had come
home tired and muddy, with
his coat all torn, and with
the mark of a stone on his
forehead. He had been
fighting with his compan-
ions, using stones as weap-
ons; as usual, they had
come to blows. Not satis-
fied with that, he had gam-
bled and lost all his soldi, and had left his cap in a ditch.

Although the room was lighted only by a small oil lamp
placed on the corner of the table next to the big arm-chair,
still the grandmother had noticed in what a miserable plight her
grandson was, and she had partly guessed and partly made him
confess his misdeeds.

She loved the boy with all her soul. When she knew
everything, she began to weep.

‘““No, no,’’ she said after a long silence, ‘‘ You have no,
heart for your poor grandmother. You have no heart if you
will take advantage of the absence of your father and mother


162 THE HEART OF A. BOY

in that way and cause me grief. You have left me alone the
whole day long. You have not had the least bit of pity for
me. Beware, Ferruccio! You put yourself in a bad way
which may lead toa sad end. I have seen others commence
in the same way and become very bad. One commences by
running away from home, by quarreling with the other boys,
by gambling one’s soldi, and, little by little, from stone fights
the boy passes to stabbing with knives, and from gambling to
other vices, and from vices to thieving! ’’

Ferruccio stood about three paces from her leaning on a
cupboard and listening with his chin dropped on his breast.
He was frowning, still excited from the heat of the fight; a
lock of his luxuriant auburn hair hung across his forehead, and
his beautiful blue eyes were as transfixed.

‘‘From gambling to thieving,’’ repeated the Pramincuen
continuing to weep. ‘‘ Think, Ferruccio, think of that scourge
of this section of the country, of that Vito Mozzoni, who is
now in the city, a ragged vagabond, who, at the age of twenty-
four, has already been twice in prison, and caused his poor
mother, whom I knew well, to die of a broken heart, and his
father to flee to Switzerland in despair. ‘Think of that per-
verse character, whose greeting your father is ashamed to
answer. He is always around with men who are more wicked -
than himself, and he will continueto grow worse until he comes
to the gallows. Listen, I knew him as a lad, I knew him when
he was like you. Think that you may lead your father and
mother to the same end that he has led his parents!”

Ferruccio was silent. He was not perverse at heart; on the
contrary, his escapades arose rather from his superabundance
of spirits and from boldness than from wickedness; and his father
had trained him badly in this respect, holding him capable of
the finest sentiments, and, when put to the proof, of noble and
,Benerous actions; so he left the bridle upon his neck, expecting
“that he would become wise without any suggestions. Ferruccio
was good rather than perverse, but obstinate, and it was very


THE HEART OF A BOY 163

difficult, even wnen his heart was oppressed with repentance,
for him to allow himself to say those good words which gain
forgiveness for us:

‘Yes, Iam wrong; I shall not do it again, I promise you;
forgive me!’

His soul was full of tenderness at times, but his pride pre-
vented it from coming out. —

‘Ah, Ferruccio!’ continued the grandmother, seeing that
he remained silent. ‘‘ You do not say a single word of repent-
ance to me! Do you not see to what a state I am reduced,
that Iam about ready to be buried. You ought not to have
the heart to make me suffer, tomake the mother of your mother,
weep; as old as Tam and so near to my last day of life—your
poor grandmother, who has loved you so much, who rocked
you night after night when you were a baby but a few mouths
old, and who would not eat that she might play with you, do
you know that? I always used to say: ‘This boy will be my

consolation!’ But now you will kill me! I would gladly give
the little that remains of my life to see you be good again, obe-
dient as you were in those days when I led you to the Sanc-
tuary. Do you remember that, Ferruccio? When you filled
my pockets with little stones and grass? When I carried you
home in my arms fast asleep? At that time you loved your
poor-grandmother. Now Iamaparalytic. I need your affec-
tion as I need the air which I breathe, because I have-no
one else in this world, poor woman, half deadasIam. Oh,
Lord!——”’

Ferruccio was about to throw himself at the feet of his
grandmother, moved hy, emotion, when he seemed to hear a
sly noise, a sort of creaking in the next room, the one
which opened on the garden. But he could not make out
whether it was the shutters shaken by the wind or something
else.

He stood listening.

The noise was repeated. His grandmother also heard it.
164 THE HEART OF A BOY

‘“ What is the matter?’’ she asked after a moment, some-
what troubled.

‘“‘ The rain,” murmured the boy.

‘““Then, Ferruccio.’’ said the old woman, wiping her eyes,

“you will promise me to be good; that you will nevermore
make your poor grandmother weep ” A new noise inter-
rupted her.

‘It does not seem to be the rain! ’’ exclaimed she, growing
pale, ‘‘go and see!”

But she added immediately: ‘‘No, stay here!’ and grasped
Ferruccio by the hand.

They both stood with suspended breath — they only heard
the noise of the rain coming down.

All at once they both shivered.

It had seemed to them that they heard a noise of feet in the
little room.

‘‘ Who’s there?’’ asked the boy, gathering up his courage,

No one answered,

“Who is there?’’ cried the boy again, frightened nearly to
death.

Scarcely had he pronounced these words, when they both.
uttered a shriek of terror. Two men sprang into the room;
one grasped the boy and put his hand over his mouth; the
other one grabbed the old woman by the throat; the first one
said:

‘* Silence, if you don’t want to die!’

‘The second:

‘*Hush!’’ and he raised a knife.

Hach had a black handkerchief upon his face, with two.
small holes for the eyes.

Nothing but the gasping breath of the four was heard for a
moment, and then the dropping of the rain; the old woman’s
throat rattled and her eyes were starting from their sockets.

‘The man who held the boy whispered in his ear: ‘‘ Where
does your father keep his money?”


THE HEART OF A BOY 165

The boy answered with a faint voice, while his teeth chat-
tered: ‘‘ Over there in the cupboard.”’

“Come with me,” said the man.

He dragged him into the small room, holding him securely
by the throat. There was a dark lantern upon the floor.

‘““ Where is the cupboard?’’ he asked. ‘I'he boy, gasping,
pointed out the cupboard.

Then, in order to be sure of the boy, the man threw him on
his knees in front of the cupboard, clasping his neck between
his legs in such a way that he could strangle him if he at-
tempted to cry, and holding the knife in his teeth and the lan-
tern in his hand, he pulled from his pocket, with his other
hand, a sharp iron point, stuck it into the lock, broke the door
and opened it on both sides, upset everything in a hurry, closed
the doors again, and re-opened them to make another search;
after this he grasped the boy once more by the throat and
pushed him into the other room where the other fellow was

holding the old woman, who was in convulsions, with her head
turned back and her mouth open.

He asked him in a low voice: ‘‘ Have you found it?’’ and
his companion answered: ‘‘I have found it.’’ And he added:
“ Look. at the door.”’

And the one who had been holding the woman ran to the
door of the garden to see if there was any one there, and he
said from the little room, with a voice which sounded like a
whistle, ‘‘ Come! ”’

The one who had remained alone, and who was still hold-
ing Ferruccio, showed a knife to the boy and to the old woman,
who was re-opening her eyes, and said: ‘‘Nota word, not a
sound, or I will come back and cut your throat.’

And he looked sharply at both for a minute.

At that moment, the sound of many voices was heard at a
distance on the. highway.

The thief turned his head quickly al the door, and in
doing so the handkerchief fell from his face.
166 THE HEART OF A BOY

The old woman gave vent to a shriek: ‘‘ Mozzoni!”

‘‘Curse you, woman!’’ roared the recognized thief. ‘ You
must die!”

He rushed upon her with his knife lifted, and the old
woman fainted.

‘The murderer dealt the blow.

With a quick movement, and giving a desperate shout,
Ferruccio had thrown himself upon his grandmother and had
shielded her with his body. The murderer ran away,
knocking against the table and upsetting the lamp which
went out. Md

The boy slid down softly from over his grandmother’s body,
and fell on his knees, remaining in that attitude, with his arms
around her waist and his head upon her breast.

A few moments passed; it was very dark; the song of the
‘“‘contadini’’ was slowly dying out in the distance. ‘The old
woman recovered her consciousness.

‘‘Ferruccio!’’ she called, with a scarcely audible voice,
while her teeth were chattering.

‘“Grandmother,’’ answered the boy

The old woman made an effort to speak, but the fright had
paralyzed her tongue.

She remained silent for a moment, trembling miolende.

Finally she succeeded in asking:

‘“ Are they no longer here?’

ct No. 9

‘* Have they not killed me?’’ gasped the old woman ina
choked voice.

‘* No you are safe,’’ said Ferruccio in a faint voice.
““You are safe, dear grandmother. They have taken the
money away. But papa had almost every ing with him.”’

His grandmother sighed.

‘‘Grandmother,’’ said Ferruccio, still on his knees and
clasping her around the waist, ‘‘ dear grandmother — you love
me, do you not?’”’

”?


THE HEART OF A BOY 167

**Oh, Ferruccio! My poor child!’ answered the woman,
placing her hand on his head. ‘‘ How frightened you must
have been! Oh, Lord of Mercy! Light the lamp—we are now
in darkness; I am still afraid.’’

ts pegedmiorncr ” said the boy, ‘‘I have always caused you
sorrow.’

“No, Ferruccio, do not speak in that way; I don’t think of
it any more;.I have forgotten, I love you so much!”’

‘“‘T have always caused you sorrow,’’ continued Ferruccio,
. speaking with difficulty and in a trembling voice. ‘‘ But I have
always cared for you. Will you forgive me? Do forgive me,
grandmother.’’

‘‘ Yes, my child, I forgive you, I tian you with all my
heart. Just think, if I should not forgive you! Rise up
from your knees, my child. I will never scold you again.
Be good, you are so kind, Ferruccio! Let us light the
lamp. dict us take a little courage. Rise to your feet, Fer-
ruccio.’

' ‘Thanks, grandmother,” ead the boy, speaking each time
in a fainter voice. ‘‘ Now I am satisfied. You will re-
member me, grandmother will you not? You will remem-
ber me always your Ferruccio.’

“Oh, my Ferruccio!” exclaimed the grandmother,
astounded and uneasy, placing her hands upon his shoulders
and leaning her head so as to look in his face.

‘Remember me,” again murmured the child, in a voice as
faint as a breath. ‘‘Give a kiss to mother to father, to
Luigina Farewell, grandmother a

‘In the name of heaven, what is the matter with you?”
cried the woman, anxiously feeling the head of the boy who
had fallen across her knees; and then, with all the voice she
had in her throat, she shouted, in desperation: ‘‘ Ferruccio!
Ferruccio! Ferruccio! My child! My love! Angels of Para-
dise, help me!’’

But Ferruccio did not answer. The little hero, the savior












168 THE HEART OF A BOY

of the mother of his mother, stabbed in the back from the
knife thrust of the robber, had surrendered his noble soul
to God!

THE LITTLE MASON SERIOUSLY ILL,
Tuesday the rth.

. The Little Mason is dangerously ill. The teacher told us
to call and see him; and Garrone, Derossi, and myself agreed
to go together. Stardi might have come, but the teacher gave
us for a lesson the description of the Cavour Monument, and he
said that he must go and see the monument in order to write a
-more accurate description. We also invited the vain boy,
Nobis, just for fun, but he answered us, in a dry manner,
‘‘No.”’ Votini also excused himself, perhaps because he was
afraid of soiling his clothes with plaster. We went after school
was over. It was raining. On the way Garrone stopped and
said, with his mouth full of bread :
‘“What are we going to buy?’”’ and he jingled two soldi in
his pocket. .

We gave two soldi each and bought three large oranges.

We went up to the garret. In front of the door, Derossi
took off his medal and put it in his pocket. I asked him why.

“IT don’t know,” he replied. ‘‘I do not wish to put on
any airs—it seems to me more delicate to enter without a
medal.’’

We knocked at the door, and the father opened it for us-—
that tall man who looks like a giant. He had a sorrowful face
and looked worn out by grief.

‘“Who are you?’’ he asked. Garrone answered :

‘““We are schoolmates of Antonio, and we are bringing him
three oranges.”’

‘‘Ah, poor Tonino!’’ exclaimed the mason, shaking his
head.” ‘“‘I am afraid he will never be able to eat your
oranges!’’ and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
THE HEART OF A BOY 169

He bade us come in. We entered a room under the roof.
The Little Mason was lying on a little iron bedstead; his
mother was leaning on the bed with her face in her hands,
and scarcely turned around to look at us. Some brushes, a
trowel,and a plaster sieve hung on the wall of the room, and
over the feet of the sick boy was laid the jacket of the mason,
all white with plaster. The poor boy was very emaciated, and
scarcely able to breathe. Oh dear Tonino, so good and so merry,
my little companion, how it pained me, how much I would
have given to see him makethe hare face, poor Little Mason!
Garrone put an orange on the pillow next to his face. ‘The
odor wakened him; he took it resolutely, but let it go, and
looked at Garrone fixedly.

‘“‘It is I, Garrone,’’ said the latter, ‘‘do you not recognize
me?’’

He smiled, but it was scarcely perceptible, and with diffi-
culty he raised his.hand from the bed and reached it to Gar-
tone, who took it between his and laid his cheek’ upon it,
saying:

“Courage, courage, Little Mason! You will soon recover;
you will soon return to school, and the teacher will put you
near me. Are you satisfied?”

But the Little Mason did not answer. ‘The mother burst
out sobbing :

‘Oh, my. little Tonino! My poor Tonino! So brave and
so good, and to think that God wishes to take him away!”’

‘‘Hold your tongue!’’ cried the mason, in despair. ‘‘Be
silent, for the love of God, or you will make me lose my head!”’
Then he said, anxiously:

“Go, go, boys; thanks; go home; what can you do here?
Go.”’

The sick boy had closed his eyes again, and looked as
though he were dead.

'“Do you need anything’ asked Garrone.
*“No, my good child, thanks,’’ replied the mason. ‘‘ Go
i70 THE HEART OF A BOY

home.” And as-he said this, he pushed us out on the land-
ing and closed the door.

We were hardly half way down the stairs, when we heard
him call: :

‘‘Garrone! Garrone!’’ We went up again in a hurry, all
three of us.
‘“‘Garrone!’’ cried the mason with a changed voice, ‘‘ he

has called you by name. It has been two days since he has
spoken; he has called you twice; he wants you, come at once.
Ah, great God! If this were only a good sign!”

‘“Good-bye,’’ Garrone said to us; ‘‘ I will stay! ” And he
rushed into the room with the father. Derossi’s eyes were
filled with tears. I asked him:

‘Do you weep for the Little Mason? He has spoken, he
will get well.”

“‘T believe it,’’ replied Derossi. ‘‘ But I was not thinking
of him—I was thinking of that kind and noble soul, Garrone!”

THE COUNT CAVOUR

Wednesday the 29th.

“Ts tt not the description of Count Cavour that thou must
write? Well, thou canst dott. But who the Count Cavour was,
thou canst not yet understand. tor the present, learn only this :
that he was for many years the prime minister of Piedmont, that
zt was he who sent the Piedmontese army into the Crimea to resus-
citate, with the victory of Cernaia, our military glory which had
fallen with the defeat at Novara. Tt was he who caused one hun-
dred and fifty thousand Frenchmen to descend from the Alps and
chase the Austrians from Lombardy. It was he who governed
Ltaly in the most solemn period of our revolution, who gave, dur-
ing those years, the most powerful impulse to the holy undertak-
ing of the unification of the country. He, with his shining talent,
his invincible constancy, his, more than human activity. Many
THE HEART OF A BOY 171

generals passed terrible hours upon the field of battle, but he
passed more terrible ones still in his study, while that enormous
undertaking of his might have crumbled down at any moment,
like a frail edifice at the shock of an earthquake; hours, nights of
toil and of anguish, from which he came out with shattered reason
and with death in his heart. It was this gigantic and fearful
undertaking, while consumed with fever, that shortened his life
by twenty years. Fe still struggled desperately against the dis-
ease im order to do something more for his country. ‘It ts
strange,” he would say, painfully, upon his death-bed, “I no
longer know how to read, I can read no more.’’ While they were
bleeding him and the fever was increasing, he was thinking of his
country, and said impertously: ‘‘ Cure my clouding mind; I need
all my faculties to deal with grave matters.’ In his last mo-
ments, when the whole city was agitated and the king stood by his
bedside, he was saying anxtously: “I have many things to tell
you, Sire, many things to show you, but I am sick; I cannot do
w#.”’ And he was inconsolable! His feverish thoughts continu-
ally hovered over his country, the new Italian provinces which had
been united to us, and he was troubled about the many things
which remained to be done, when the delirium overtook hin.
“ Educate Childhood!” he exclaimed between his gasps for breath.
“ Educate Childhood and Youth—govern with freedom!’ The
delivium increased, death was upon him, and he invoked with
ardent words General Garibaldi, with whom he had had some
disagreements, and Venice and Rome, which were not yet libera-
ted. Te had visions of the future of Italy and of Europe,
dreamed of foreign invasions, asked where the army corps and
the generals were—he still trembled for his people. Lis great sor-
sow—dost thou understand ?—was not to feel his life ebbing out;
zt was to see himself flee from his country, which still needed him
and for which he had, in a few years, worn out the immeasurable
power of his wonderful organism. He died with the cry of battle
wn hts throat—his death was as great as his life. Now reflect a
litte, Enrico, what sort of a thing our work is which seems to
172 THE HEART OF A BOY

weigh so much upon us, what are our griefs, what ts death ttsebf
compared to those toils, those formidable anxieties, the tremendous
agonies of those men upon whom a world and its vital interest
rests! Think of these, my child, and when thou passeth in front
of that marble image cry: ‘ Glory!” in thy heart.

Thy Father,

APRIL

SPRING
Saturday the rst.

The first of April! Only nice more months! This has
been one of the finest mornings of the year. I was so happy
at school because Coretti asked me to go with him to-morrow
to witness the arrival of the king. His father, who knows the
king, will accompany us. And also because my mother has
promised to take me that same day to visit the Infant Asylum. in
Corso Valdocco. I was also content because the ‘‘little
mason’’ is better, and because last night when the teacher was
passing he said to my father: ‘‘ He is better, he is better.”’

Then, too, it was a beautiful spring morning. From the
windows of the school-room we could see the blue sky. The
trees in the garden are all sprouting. The windows of the
houses were wide open and there were flower-vases and boxes
filled with blooming plants on the sills. ‘The master did not
laugh, because he never does, but he was in good humor, so
much so that the straight wrinkle on his forehead was scarcely
visible, and while he was explaining a problem upon the black-
board, he jested, and you could see that he felt a pleasure in
breathing: the air which came from the garden through the
open windows, with that good, fresh fragrance of the earth
and uf the trees, which makes one think of the walks in the
country.
THE HEART OF A BOY 173 ©

While he was explaining, we could hear a blacksmith in a.
street near by, who was beating something upon the anvil; and
in the house opposite, a woman sang her babe to sleep. In the
barracks of Cernaia, far away, the trumpets were sounding. .
The boys all seemed happy, even Stardi. Suddenly, the
blacksmith began to hammer and the woman to sing in a higher
key. ‘The teacher stopped to listen. Then he said softly,
looking out of the window:

‘“‘ A sky which smiles, a mother who sings, an honest work-
man who labors, and some boys who study—that is really a
fine thing.’’

When we left the class room I noticed that all the others
were merry. They all walked in file, stamping their feet and
singing in a playful way, as though it were the eve of a four
days’ vacation. The school-teachers were jesting; the one
with the red feather tripped behind the boys like a school girl;
the parents of the boys were talking to one another, laughing,
and the mother of Crossi, the vegetable vender, had many bou-
quets of violets in her basket, and they filled the hall with
perfume. I never experienced so much happiness as on this
morning when I saw my mother waiting for me in the street,
and I told her so when I met her.

“Iam happy, and what is it that makes me so happy this
morning ?’’

My mother smiled and answered that it was the fine season
and a good conscience.

KING UMBERTO
Monday the 3rd.

At ten o’clock sharp, my father saw Coretti, the wood-
huckster, and his son, who were waiting for me in the square,
and he said tome: ‘‘ Here they are, Enrico, go and see thy
king.’’

I went down quickly. The father and son were more alert
-174 THE HEART OF A BOY

than usual, and it occurred to me that they resembled each
other very much this morning. ‘The father wore the medal of
valor upon his jacket between two commemorative medals, and
his little mustache was curled up and pointed like two pins.

We started at once toward the railway station, where the
king was to arrive at half past ten. Coretti’s father smoked
his pipe and rubbed his hands. ‘Do you know,”’ he would
say, ‘‘that I have not seen him since the war of sixty-six? A
trifle of fifteen years and six months! First, I spent three
years in France, then I went to Mondovi, and I have never
before happened to be in the city when he came. It is alla
matter of luck !”?

He spoke of King Umberto as he would speak of a com-
rade. ‘‘ Umberto commanded the sixteenth division; Umberto
was twenty-two years and as many days old; Umberto rode on
horseback,’’ and so on. Pe

“* Fifteen years,’’? he said in a loud voice, and quickened
his step. ‘‘I have a great desire to see him again; I left him
a prince; I shall see him a king. I have also changed much;
I have passed from a soldier to a wood-huckster,’’ and he
laughed.

His son asked: ‘‘If he sees you, do you think he would
recognize you?”’

He began to laugh.

“Are you crazy?” he replied. ‘‘ It would be too hard for
him. ‘There was only one like him, while we were as thick as
flies, and he did not stop to look at us one by one.”’

We reached the Corso Vittorio Emanuele; there were many
people hurrying toward the station. A company of Alpine
soldiers with their trumpets were passing; two mounted cara-
bineers went galloping by. The sky was brilliant and serene.

“Yes!’’ exclaimed Coretti’s father, growing excited, ‘‘I
am so pleased to see him again, the general of my division.
Ah, how fast I have grown old! It seems to me but a day
since I had a knapsack on my shoulder anda gun in my hands,
THE HEART OF A BOY 175

in the midst of that turmoil on the morning of June twenty-
fourth, when we were about to come into battle. Umberto was
going and coming with his officers, while the cannons thun-
dered from a distance. All looked at him and said: ‘Let us
hope that there may not be a bullet for him!’ . I was a thou-
sand miles away in my thoughts, never dreaming that in a few
moments I should be so near him, in front of the lances of the
Austrian Uhlans, only four steps from each other, boys! It was
a beautiful day; the sky was like a looking-glass, ‘but it was
very warm!— Let us see if we can enter.”’

We had reached the station. There was a large crowd;
. carriages, guards, carabineers, societies with their banners, and
the band of a regiment was playing. Coretti’s father tried to
get under the portico, but he found it impossible. Then he
thought he would put himself in the first line of the crowd
which was making an opening at the exit. By forcing his
way with his elbows, he succeeded in pushing himself ahead of
us. The crowd was wavering and pushing us here and there.
The wood-huckster had spied the first pillar on the portico
where the guards allowed no one to stand. ‘‘ Come with me,”
he said, and, taking us by the hand, he crossed the empty space
with two leaps and placed himself there with his shoulder
against the wall.

A police officer ran to him and said: ‘‘You cannot stay here.”

‘*T belonged to the Fourth battalion of the forty-ninth!’’
answered Coretti, touching his medals.

The policeman looked at him and said: ‘“‘ Stay.’”’

“Didn't I tell you so!’’ exclaimed Coretti triumphantly.
“Tt isa magic word that Fourth of the forty-ninth! Have I
not a right to see him, my general, with comfort; I, who was
in his command! I saw him near then; it is right that I should
see him near now, and that I call him my general! He
was my commander in battle for along half hour, as in those
moments it was he who commanded the battalion, while he was
in the midst of it, and not Major Ubrich, by thunder!”
176 THE HEART OF A BOY ,

In the meanwhile, we could see in the hall where the trains
arrived, and outside, a gathering of gentlemen and officers, and
in front of the door carriages stood in line with the coachmen
_and grooms dressed in red. .
Coretti asked his father if King Umberto had his sword
in his hand when he was inside the square.
“He might have had his sword in his hand,’’ he answered,
‘to ward off the blow of a lance, which might have struck him
as well as any one else. Ah, those unchained demons! They
came upon us like the wrath of God. ‘They swept around the
groups, the squares, the cannons, and they seemed like a
wild wind in a hurricane, breaking through everything. There
was such a confusion of Allessandria cavalrymen, of Foggia
lancers, of infantry, of Uhlans, of Bersaglieri—such a pande-
monium that we could not see around us. I heard some one
trying: ‘Your Highness! Your Highness!’ and saw the
lowered lances coming. We discharged our guns; a cloud of
smoke hid everything Then the cloud vanished The
earth was covered with horses of the Uhlans, with wounded
and with dead. Iturned around and saw in our midst Um-
berto on horseback, looking around quietly, as if he were about
to ask: ‘Is there any one who has been scratched, my boys!’
And we shouted ‘Hurrah!’ right in his face, and acted like
crazy men. Great eos What a moment that was! See,
the train is coming.’

_ The band played, the officers took their piaces, the crowd
stood on tip-toe.

“He will not come out right away,’’ said a guard. ‘‘ They
are delivering a speech to him.”’

Coretti’s father was beside himself. ‘‘Ah, when I think. of
it,’’ he said, ‘‘I always see him there. He does his duty
among people afflicted with cholera, among those whose homes
are destroyed by earthquakes—-and anywhere else I know of.
And brave he was in battle, too; I have him constantly in my
mind as I saw him then, in the midst of us, with that tranquil






THE HEART OF A BOY ee Lay

face; and I am sure that he also remembers the fourth battalion
of the forty-ninth, though he is now a king, and he would like
to see us for once at his table all together, those whom he saw
once around himin sucha moment. Now he has generals and
lords and high officers; at that time he had nothing but poor
. soldiers. If I could only exchange a few words with him
alone, our general of twenty-two; our prince, who was then en-
trusted to our bayonets It is fifteen years since I saw
him, our Umberto. Ah! this music excites my blood, upon
my honor!’’

A crash of applause interrupted him. ‘Thousands of hats
were lifted in the air, four gentlemen dressed in black entered
the first carriage.

“Tt is he!’’ cried Coretti, remaining there as if dumb-
founded. i

Then he said: ‘‘ By our Lady, how grey he has grown!”’

We all three took off our hats; the carriage was coming
along slowly, in the midst of the throng, shouting and waving
their hats. I looked at Coretti’s father. He seemed like an-
other man, he looked as if he had grown taller, stern and pal-
lid, standing close against the pillar. The carriage came in
front of us not more than a step from the pillar. ‘‘Hurrah’”’
cried many voices.

‘‘Hurrah!’’ cried Coretti after the others.

The king looked in his face and glanced for a moment at
his three medals.

Then Coretti: lost his head and shouted: ‘‘The fourth
battalion of the forty-ninth |!” :

The king who had already turned to the other side,
turned again towards us, and, gazing into Coretti’s eyes,
held his hand out of the carriage.

Coretti bounded forward and shook it. The carriage moved
on. ‘The crowd broke in and separated us from each other and
we lost sight of Coretti’s father, but it was only for a moment.
We soon found him again, panting, with his eyes wet, and he


178 THE HEART OF A BOY

was calling his son’s name and holding his hand lifted in the
air. ‘The son hastened to him, and he cried: “‘ Here, little
fellow, while my hand is still warm,’’ and he laid his hand
over his face, saying: ‘‘ This is acaress from the king.”

And he stood there as if in a dream, with his eyes fixed.
upon the distant carriage, smiling, with his pipe in his hand,
in the midst of.a group of curious people, who were looking
at him. ‘‘It is one of the forty-ninth,’’ they were saying. ‘‘It
is a soldier who knows the king.” ‘‘ And the king has recog-
nized him.’’ ‘‘It is he who reached out his hand.” ‘‘ He has
handed the king a petition,’’ said one louder than the others.

‘‘No,” cried Coretti, turning around brusquely; ‘‘I have
handed him no petition. There is something else which I
would give him.”

They all looked at him.

He smiled and said: ‘‘ My life!’’

THY INFANT ASYLUM
Tuesday the gth.

Vesterday, after breakfast, my mother took me to the Infant
Asylum. of Corso Valdocco, as she promised. She went to
recommend the little sister of Precossi to the directress. I had
never seen an asylum. How amused Iwas! ‘There were two
hundred little boys and girls, and they were so small that a
pupil of our first lower class might be taken for a man as com-
pared to them. We arrived just as they were filing into the
refectory, where there were two long tables with many round
holes and in each hole a black soup plate, filled with rice and
beans, and a tin spoon lay beside it. Coming in, some of the
children fell down and lay on the floor until one of the teachers
ran to pick them up. Some of them would stop in front ot a
soup plate, thinking it was their place, and hurriedly swallow
a spoonful, when one of the teachers would come up and say:
a

THE HEART OF A BOY 179

“Go ahead !’’ and he would go three or four steps and swallow
another spoonful of soup, and then go ahead again until he
arrived at his own place, having lawlessly taken half a portion
ofsoup. At last, after much pushing and crying ‘‘ Hurry up! ©
Hurry up!’’ they were all placed in order and began to say
their prayer. All those in the inside rows, who, in order to
pray, had to turn their back to the soup plate, would twist
their heads back to keep an eye on the soup lest some one
should fish in it; and they prayed in such a funny way, with
their hands together and their eyes turned toward the ceiling,
but with their hearts on their soup. Then they began to eat,
oh, what a sight that was! One would eat with two spoons,
another filled his mouth with his hands; some would pick out
the beans one by one and put them in their pockets; others
would wrap them up in their little aprons and crush them to-
gether to make paste. There w re some who did not eat
because they were so interested in watching the flies. Some,
coughing, sprinkled a shower of rice all around. It looked
like a poultry yard. However, it was a pretty sight; those
two rows of little girls with their hair done up in a knot with
red, blue or green ribbons. One of the teachers asked a line
of eight little girls: ‘‘ Where does the rice grow?”’

All of them opened their mouths, filled with soup, and
answered together, singing: ‘‘It-is-born-in-the-water.’’ Then
the teacher gave the order: ‘‘Raise your hands!’’ It was
So nice to see those little arms fly up from children who a few
months ago were in their swaddling clothes. 11 those little
waving hands looked like butterflies, white and rosy.

Then they went to the recreation room, but first they took
from the wall their little baskets containing their breakfasts.
As they came out into the garden, they scattered themselves
around and began to take out their provisions—bread, stewed
prunes, a small piece of cheese, a hard-boiled egg, some small
apples, a handful of boiled vetch-peas or a chicken wing. In
a moment the whole garden was covered with crumbs, as if they
180 THE HEART OF A BOY

had spread food for a flock of birds there. They were eating
in the strangest positions; like rabbits, mice and cats; nibbling,
licking and sucking. One child had fastened some rice on his
breast and was smearing it around with a medlar as though he

-were polishing a sword. Some little girls were crushing pieces
of soft cheese in their hands, and it trickled through their
fingers like milk and ran inside their sleeves without. their
noticing it. They were running around, following each other
with apples and rollsin their teeth like dogs. I saw three who
were excavating the inside of a hard egg with a little stick,
thinking to find a treasure in there, and were scattering it
around on the ground, then picking it up crumb by crumb
with a-great deal of patience, as if it were pearls. There was
something singular about some of them. There were eight or
ten bending their heads to look inside of a basket, as one would
have looked at the moon inside of a cistern, There must have
been about twenty standing around a midget about aspan high,
who held in his hand a littlesugar bag, and they were all mak-
ing bows to him in order to be allowed to dip their hand into
it. He gave it to some, and to others, after being well begged,
he only granted his finger to suck.

By this time, my mother had come into the garden and was
kissing first one and then another. Many of them would go
to meet her or cling to her dress and ask her for a kiss with
their upturned faces, opening and closing their mouths, like
little birds asking for food. One offered her a quarter of an
orange which had already been bitten; another a crust of bread;
one little girl gave her a leaf, and another, in great earnest-
ness, showed her the point of her index finger, and, looking
closely, one could see a microscopical swelling which she had
gotten the day before by touching a lighted candle. ‘They
would place under her eyes some very small insects, so small
that it was a mystery to me how they could see to pick them
up. Some showed her half corks of bottles; some, shirt-but-
tons; some, little flowers picked from the vases. A child with
THE HEART OF A BOY 181

- a bandaged head, wishing to be heard at any cost, stammiered
out a story, I could not comprehend what, about a tumble he
had taken, but not a word could be understood. A girl
wished my mother to bend down, and she whispered in her
ear: ‘‘ My father makes brushes.’’ In the meantime, many
accidents were happening, which forced the teachers to run
hereand there. Some of the girls cried because they could
not undo the knot in their handkerchiefs; others disputed, with
their nails and shouts, over two apple-seeds; a little boy who
had fallen upon an upturned stool sobbed without being able
to rise.

When we were about to leave, my mother took three or
four of them by the arm, and then others ran from all direc-
tions to be taken up also, with their faces all smeared with the
yolk of egg or with orange juice.. Some grasped her hands, —
others got hold of her fingers to see her ring; one pulled her
watch-chain, and another tried to pull her hair.

‘‘Look out,’’ said one of the teachers, ‘‘they will ruin your
dress!”’

But my mother cared little for her dress and continued to
kiss them, and they crowded around her more and more. The
neatest ones had their arms stretched out as if they were try-
ing to climb, and those more distant were trying to make their
way through the crowd, and all were crying;

‘“Good-bye!’’ ‘‘ Good-bye!’’ ‘‘ Good-bye! ”

At last she succeeded in running away from them and went
into the garden. ‘Then they all ran and put their heads be-
tween the iron bars of the railing to see her go by, throwing
their arms out to salute her. They offered her pieces of
bread, small pieces of fruit, and cheese rind, and all cried to-
gether:

‘*Good-bye! Good-bye! Good-bye! Come back to-mor-
row. Come again.’’

My mother in passing along put her hand upon those
hundred little heads, as upon a garland of fresh roses.
182 THE HEART OF A BOY

She finally reached the street safely, all covered with crumbs
and spots, mussed up and disheveled; her hands filled with
flowers and her eyes filled with tears, as happy as though ske
had come from a feast. We could’ still hear the voices inside,
like a great twittering of birds, crying:

‘*Good-bye! Good-bye! Come again, dady.”’

—_—

AT THE GYMNASIUM
Wednesday the 5th.

The weather continuing fine, they made us go from the in-
door gymnasium to the other in the garden, which is fitted up
with apparatuses.

Yesterday, Garrone was in the principal’s room when the
mother of Nelli came —the blonde lady dressed in black — to
have her boy excused from the exercises. She spoke with her
hand upon Nelli’s head, and every word cost her an effort.
‘‘ He cannot do it,’’ she said to the principal. Nelli appeared
to be very much grieved at being excused from the gymnasium;
at having to suffer this humiliation.

‘Vou will see, mother, that I can do like the others,’’ he
said.

His mother looked at him in silence, with an air of pity and
affection. "Then she said with hesitation: ‘‘I fear that his
compatiions’”’ She meant to say that they might ridicule
him.

But Nelli answered: ‘‘It doesn’t matter, and then Garrone
is there. I am satisfied if he is the only one who does not
laugh.’’

And then they allowed him to join us. The teacher, the one
who has a scar on his neck and who has been with Garibaldi,
led us immediately to the vertical poles which are very high,
and it was our task to climb to the top and stand upright on
the transverse beam. Derossi and Corretti went up like two


THE HEART OF A BOY 183

monkeys. Precossi also mounted quickly, although embar-
rassed in that large jacket which reaches to his knees, and, in
order to make him laugh while he was going up, they all
repeated his interjection: ‘‘Excuse me, excuse me.’’ Stardi
puffed up, growing red like a turkey, and closing his teeth so
that he looked like a mad dog; but, even at the risk of burst-
ing, he would have gone to the top, and he got there. When
Nobis got to the top, he assumed the air of a conquering em-
peror. Votini slid down twice in spite of his beautiful new
suit with blue stripes, made expressly for gymnastics.

In order to go up more easily they had ali daubed their
hands with colophony rosin, as it is called, which the traffick-
ing Garoffi had sold to them for a soldo a bag, thereby making
a profit.

It was Garrone’s turn next and he went up, eating bread,
with great ease; and I believe that he would have been able to
carry one of us on his shoulder, he is so thick-set and strong,
like a little ox. After Garrone, came Nelli. As soon as they
saw him grasping the bar with his long thin hands many began
to laugh and ridicule him, but Garrone crossed his arms on his
breast and darted such an expressive glance at the boys that
they well understood that he would immediately deal them
blows, even in the presence of the teacher, and they all stopped
laughing at once.

Nelli commenced to climb with difficulty, poor thing. His
face was scarlet, he was breathing hard, and the perspiration
tran from his forehead. The teacher said: ‘‘ Come down.”
But he answered, ‘‘ No,” making an effort and growing obsti-
nate, while I was expecting every moment to see him tumble
to the ground half dead. Poor Nelli! I was thinking if I
had been like that, and my mother had seen me how she would
have suffered, my poor mother; and thinking of this, I grew
very fond of Nelli, and I would have given a great deal to
have seen him succeed in ascending the bar, and to be able
to push him from below without being seen. In the mean-
184 THE HEART OF A BOY

while, Garrone, Derossi, and Coretti were saying: ‘‘Up! Up!
Nelli! Courage! Another effort! Up!’ and Nelli made
another violent effort, placing his elbow, and finding himself
only two spans from the top.

‘‘ Bravo !’’ cried the others. ‘‘ Courage! Another push!”’
and behold Nelii grasped the transverse bar. All clapped their
hands.

‘*Bravo!” said the teacher, ‘‘but that is enough; come
down now.’”’ But Nelli wanted to go up on top like all the
others, and after.a little hesitation succeeded in placing his
elbows upon the bar, then his knees, then his feet, until he sat
up panting and smiling, and looked at us.

We again ciapped our hands. Then he looked in the street.
I looked that way, and through the plants which covered the
iron railings of the garden I saw his mother walking on the
sidewalk, not daring to look up. Nelli came down and the
boys all made much of him. He was excited and rosy, and
his eyes were sparkling; he did not look like the same boy.
His mother came to meet him when we came out, and embrac
ing him, she asked a little uneasily:

‘Well, my dear child, how did it go?' All his compan-
ions answered:

‘“ He has done very well! He went up like the others!”
“He is strong, do you know it?” ‘‘He is quick!” ‘He
does just as well as the others.’’

It was a pleasure to see the joy of that woman! She tried
to thank us, but she was not able. She shook hands with
three or four of us, caressed Garrone, and then took her boy
away.

We watched her for a few moments as she waiked along
hurriedly, talking and gesticulating with Nelli, both more con:
tented than any one had ever seen them,
THE HEART OF A BOY 185

MY FATHER’S TEACHER

Tuesday the rrth.

What a beautiful excursion I had yesterday with my father
This is how it happened. The day before yesterday, while we
were at dinner, reading over a newspaper, my father gave vent.
to an exclamation of surprise. Then hesaid: ‘ And I thought
him dead for the last twenty years! Do you know, he is still
alive, my first teacher of the elementary school, Vincenzo
Crosetti, who is now eighty-four years old? I see here that
the ministry have bestowed upon him the medal of merit for
having taught for the last sixty years. Szxty years, do you
understand? And it is only two years since he stopped teach-
ing. Poor Crosetti! He lives only an hour’s ride from here
by the railway, at Condovi, the place of our old garden woman
of the villa of Chieri.” And he added: ‘‘Enrico, we will go
and see him.’’ ;

Through the whole evening, he spoke of no one else but
him. ‘The name of his elementary teacher called to his mind
a thousand things that happened when he was a boy. It
reminded him of his first companions and of his dead mother.
“Crosetti!’’? he exclaimed, ‘‘ was forty years old when I was
with him. It seems to me that I can see hiin now; a little
round-shouldered man, with clear eyes, and his face was al-
ways clean shaven. Rather severe, but with good manners,
and he always loved us as a father, and never forgave us any
escapades. By dint of study and privations, he rosefrom being
a farmer. Hewas an honest man. My father was pleased
with him and treated him like a friend. Why he has gone
from Turin to live at Condovi is more than I can guess! He
surely will-not recognize me. It matters not, I will recognize
him. Forty-four years have passed! Forty-four years, Enrico,
and to-morrow we will. go and see him.’’

Yesterday morning at nine o’clock we were at the railway
186 THE HEART OF A BOY

station of Susa. I wantedtohave Garrone go with us, but he
could not on account of his mother being ill. It was a fine
spring morning. ‘Thetrain ran through green meadows and
blooming hedges, and the air was full of fragrance. My father
was happy; and every once in awhile he put his arm arcund
my neck, speaking to me as to a friend and looking out at the
country.

““Poor Croseiti!’’ he would say, ‘‘ he is the first man who
liked me and who did me some good after my father. I have
never forgotten some of his good advice, as well as some dry
reproaches which sent me home with a lump in my throat.
His hands were short and thick. I can still see him as he en-
tered the school, placing his cane in the corner and hanging his
cloak on the hat-rack, always with the same gesture. He had
an even temper, was always conscientious and full of good
wishes, and so attentive that it seemed as though he were
teaching every day for the first time. I remember as well as
though I heard him now, when he looked at me and said:
‘Bottini, eh! Bottini! hold the index and the middle finger
upon thy pen!’ He must have changed much in forty-four
years.”’ ;

As soon as we reached Condovi, we went to look for our
old garden woman of Chieri, who keeps a small shop in an
alley. We found her with her boys and she gave us a hearty
welcome, telling us the news of her husband who is about to
return from Greece, where he has been working for the last
three years. She also told us about her oldest daughter, who
is now in the Deaf and Dumb Asylum at Turin. ‘Then she
showed us the way to go to find the teacher, who is known by
every one.

We left the place and went through a steep lane, flanked by
blooming hedges.

My fatner no longer talked; he seemed absorbed in. his
memoriés, and once in awhile he would smiie and shake his
head.
THE HEART OF A BOY e 187

Suddenly he stopped and said: ‘‘ Here hecomes. I am
willing to wager that it is he.’’

A little old man with a white beard was coming toward us.
He wore a broad-brimmed hat, was walking with a stick, drag-
ging his feet, and his hands were trembling.

“Tt is he!’’ repeated my father, hastening his step.

When we came near him, we*halted. The old man also
stopped and looked at my father. He still had a fresh face, and
his eyes were clear and had a lively expression.

“Ts it you?’’ asked my father, taking off his hat. ‘‘ The
teacher, Vincenzo Crosetti?’’ ‘The old man also took off his
hat and said: ‘‘It is I,’’ with a tremulous but full voice.

‘‘ Well,” said my father, taking him by the hand, ‘‘ allow
an old pupil of yours to shake your hand and ask you how you
are, I have come from Turin to see you.”’

The old man looked at him in amazement, and then said:
‘“You honor me too much I do not know ‘When were
you my pupil? If you please. Tell me your name,
I beg.”

My father gave him his name, Alberto Bottini, and told
him the year that he had been in his school and where, adding :
‘“You probably do not remember me, and it is quite natural,
but I remember you very well!”

The teacher bent his head and looked down, thinking, and
he murmured two or three times the name of my Hanes who
in the meanwhile gazed at him smiling.

All of a sudden, the old man raised his face, with his eyes
wide open and said slowly: ‘‘ Alberto Bottini, the son of the
engineer Bottini? The one who lived on Consolato square?’’

‘‘’The same,’’ answered my father, holding his hand.

‘* Then,” said the old man, ‘‘ allow me, dear sir, allow me,”
and coming forward he embraced my father, his head scarcely
reaching his shoulder. My father laid his cheek upon his
forehead.

‘“Have the kindness to come with me,’’ said the teacher.




188 THE HEART OF A BOY

Without saying anything more, he turned and retraced his
steps toward his house. In a few minutes, we entered the yard
in front of a small house with two doors, one of which opened
through a little white wall.

The teacher opened the second door and bade us enter.
The room was white-washed; in one corner stood a cot-bed with
acover of white and blue squares; in another, a little table with
a small bouquet upon it; there was an old geographical map
nailed to the wall, and the room also contained four chairs ; and
an odor of apples was perceptible.

We all three sat down. My father and the
teacher silently looked at each other for a few
'._, Moments.




“Bottini !’’ exclaimed the
teacher, his eyes upon the
brick floor, where the sun re-
vealed achecker board. ‘‘ Oh,
I remember well. Your moth-
er was such a kind lady! Dur-
ing the first year, you sat for
a time on the first bench at the
left near the window. See
how well I remember? I still
see your curly hair.’’ Then he
paused a moment to think.
“You were a pretty lively boy, eh? The second year, you were
taken ill with the croup. I remember when they brought you
. back to school wrapped up in a shawl, and you were so emaci-
ated. Forty years have passed since then, is it not so? You
are so kind to remember your poor teacher! Others have
come, too, in the past years to see me here; some of my old
pupils: a colonel, some priests, and several gentlemen.”
He asked my father what profession he followed. ' Then he
said: ‘°I congratulate you, I congratulate you with all my
heart. Thanks. It has been a long time since I had seen any


Lhe old teacher opened a narrow drawer.
THE HEART OF A BOY 189

of my old pupils and I fear that you may be the last. one to
visit me, dear sir.”

“Do not talk so,’’ said my father. ‘‘ You are well and
still strong. You must not say such things.’’

‘“ No, no,” replied the teacher. ‘‘ Do you see this trembling!”
and he showed his hands. ‘‘ This is avery badsign. Itcame
tpon me three years ago while I was still teaching. At first,
I paid no attention to it, thinking it would pass away. But
instead it remained, or rather it kept on increasing. The day
came when I was no longer able to write. Oh! that day, the
first time I made a blot upon the copy-book of one of my
pupils, it was a blow to my heart, my dear sir. I went ahead
for a little time, but I finally had to give up. After sixty
years, I was obliged to say good bye to the school, to the pupils,
to the work. And it was a hard thing, do you know, it was a
hard thing. ‘The last time I gave a lesson, they all escorted
me home and made much of me, but I was-sad, I felt that life
had come to an end for me. The year previous I had lost my
wife and my only child. Now I live upon a few hundred lire
of pension. I work nomore. My only occupation, as you see,
is to look over my old school books, some collections of educa-
tional journals, some books which my pupils have given me.
There they are,’ he said, pointing toa little bookcase. ‘‘ There
are the souvenirs of my past It is all I have left in this
world.’’

Then in a changed Bad jolly tone: ‘‘I want to eur
you, dear Signor Bottini.’

He got up and approached a table, opened a long narrow
drawer containing several little bundles, all bound together
with a paste-board back, upon which was written a date in four
figures. After searching for a moment, he opened one of them,
turned over several papers and pulled out a sheet, grown yel-
low with age, and handed it to my father. It was his lesson
of forty years ago! Hereadon the top ofit: ‘‘Alberto Bot-
tini, Dictation, April 8, 1838.’’ My father recognized at once


190 THE HEART OF A BOY

his large hand writing when a boy and began to read, smiling;
all of a sudden, tears came to his eyes. I got up and asked
him what was the matter.

He passed an arm around my waist, and pressing me to
his side, he said: ‘‘ Look at this sheet of paper. Do you see?
These are the corrections of my poor mother. She would
always strengthen the 1’s and the t’s. And the last lines are
hers. She had learned to imitate my hand writing, and when
I was tired or sleepy she would finish the work for me. My
dear, sainted mother !”’

And he kissed that page.

‘“‘ Here they are,’’ said the teacher, showing other bundles,
‘““here are my souvenirs. Every year, I put aside a Piece of
work of each of my pupils, and they are all put in their
order by number. At times, I look them over and read a line
here and there, and a thousand things come back to my mind,
and it seems to me that I live in the past. How many have
passed away, my dear sir? If I close my eyes, I see faces over
faces, class after class, and hundreds and hundreds of boys.
Who knows how many of them are already dead. I remember
some of them very well. JI remember well the best and the
worst, those who have given me much satisfaction, and those
who caused me some sad moments, and I have had some who
were serpents, do you know? And a large number of them i
’ But now, you understand me, it seems as though I already
belonged to the other world, and I love them all alike.’’

‘And do you remember any roguish trick of mine ?’’ asked
imy father, smiling.

“You, sir?’’ replied the old man, also smiling, ‘‘not at
this moment. But I do not mean to say that you never did
anything wrong. Still, you were a boy who had judgment;
you were serious for your age. I remember the great affection -
you had for your mother And you have been good and kind
to comie and see me! How could you leave your business to
come and see a poor old teacher ?”


THE HEART OF A BOY 191

_ ‘* Listen, Signor Crosetti,’' replied my father quicriy, ‘‘I
recall the first time my poor mother accompanied me to
school. It was the first time that she had ever been separated
from me for two ‘hours, or had left me outside of the house in
any other hands than those of my father—in the hands of an
unknown person. For that good creature, my entering school
was like an entrance into the world, the first of a long series
of necessary and painful separations. It was society which for
the first time, was tearing from her her son who would never
be to her quite the same as before. She was moved and so was
I. She recommended me to you with a trembling voice, and
when she went away, she saluted me from the door with her
eyes filled with tears. At that moment, you made a gesture
‘with your hand, placing the other one upon your breast as if to
tell her: ‘Madam, trust in me.’ From that look and from
that gesture, I perceived that you had understood all the
thoughts, all the sentiments of my mother. That look which
meant ‘Courage!’ that gesture which was a solemn promise
of protection, of affection, of indulgence—I have never forgot-
ten it—It has ever since remained engraved upon my heart,
and that remembrance is what caused me to leave Turin this
morning, and here I am after forty years, to tell you: ‘hank
you, dear teacher !’’

The teacher did not answer, he was caressing my hair with
his trembling hand which glided from my hair upon my fore-
head, and from my forehead upon my shoulder.

During this time, my father looked at these bare walls, at
that poor bed, at the piece of bread and the phial of oil upon

the window, and it seemed as though he wished to say: ‘‘ Poot
teacher, after sixty years of work, is this all your recom-
pense ?”’

The old man was contented, and again commenced to speak
with vivacity of our family, of the other teachers, of those
years, of my father’s school-mates, some of whom he remem-
bered, and others whom he did not, and each gave the other
192 THE HEART OF A BOY

news of them. At last, my father interrupted the conversation
by begging the teacher to come down to the village and have
luncheon with us. He ceremoniously replied: ‘‘ Thank you,
thank you.’’ But he seemed to be uncertain about it. My
father took both his hands and begged him again. ‘‘ How can
T eat,’’ said the teacher, ‘‘ with these poor hands which tremble
so; it would be a punishment to the others!’’ ‘‘ We will help
you,” said my father. ‘then he accepted, shaking his head
and smiling.

‘“It is a fine morning,” he said closing the outside-door,
“it is a fine morning, dear Signor Bottini! I assure you that
I shall keep it in mind as long as I live.”’

My father took the teacher by the arm, the old man took my
hand, and we descended the lane. We met two little bare-footed
girls leading some cows, and a boy passed us running with a
jarge load of straw on his shoulders. The teacher told us that
they were pupils of the second class, who during the morning
would lead the cattle to pasture or work in the fields, bare-
footed, and in the evening would put on their shoes and go
to school. It was almost noon and we met no one else. We
reached the hotel in a few minutes. We seated ourselves at a
table, putting the teacher between us, and immediately ordered
our luncheon. The hotel wasas quiet asaconvent. The teacher
was very jolly, and as his excitement increased, he trembled so
that he could hardly eat; but my father cut his meat, broke his
bread and put salt upon his plate. In order to drink he was
obliged to hold the glass with both hands, and even then he
shook so that the glass would click against his teeth. He
talked constantly, with warmth, about the reading books when
he was a youth, about the schools of those years, about the
praises which hissuperior had bestowed upon him, and about the
regulations of the last years; all the time with that serene face
a little redder than before, in that gay voice, and he laughed
almost like a young man. My father looked and looked at
him, with the same expression with which, at times, I sur-
THE WEART OF A BOY 193

prised him looking at me at home, when he thinks and smiles
to himself with his face leaning to one side. The teacher let
some wine trickle upon his breast; my father got up and
cleaned it off with a napkin. ‘‘ No, no, I will not allow you,”
he said, and laughed. He would speak some words in Latin.
Finally, raising his glass, which danced in his hands, he said
very seriously: ‘‘’T'o your health, my dear engineer, to your.
children, and to the memory of your good mother!’* ‘’I'o
your health, my good teacher !”” answered my father, pressing
his hand. ‘The landlord and some others who were at the
other end of the room looked at us and smiled as though they
were pleased with the celebration which was granted to the
teacher of their place.

The teacher wished to accompany us to the station when
we left, at two o’clock. My father again gave him his arm and
he took me by the hand, while I carried his cane. ‘The people
all stopped to look at us as we passed; all knew him, and some
saluted him. At one place on the road, we heard from a win-
dow several boys’ voices reading together and spelling aloud.
The teacher stopped and seemed to grow sad.

‘‘ That—dear Signor Bottini,’’ he said, ‘‘ that is what pains
me: to hear the voices of the boys at school, and to think
that I can no longer be among them, while some one else is
there. I have heard this music for the last sixty years, and I
have grown to love it Now Iam without a family, I no
longer have children.’’ ;

““No, teacher,’’ said my father, resuming the way, ‘you
still have many children ‘scattered all over the world, who
remember you as I do.”

‘No, no,’’ replied the teacher, sadly, ‘‘I no longer have
any children, and without children I cannot live much longer.
My hour will soon strike.’’

“Do not say so, teacher; do not think it,” said my father.
“At any rate, you have done much good! You have lived
- your life nobly.”


PO AG THE HEART OF A BOY

For a moment the old teacher inclined his head towards my
father and shook my hand.

We had just entered the station, the train was about to
leave. :

‘‘ Good-bye, teacher,” said my father, kissing him on both
cheeks.

““Good-bye, thanks, good-bye,” answered the teacher, taking
one of my father’s hands in his and pressing it upon his heart.

I kissed him also and felt that his face was wet. My father
pushed me inside the car. Then taking, with a quick move-
ment, the rough cane from the teacher’s hand and putting in
its stead his own beautiful one with a silver handle which had
his initials upon it, he exclaimed: ‘‘Do keep it in remem-
prance of me!’’ ‘The old teacher tried to return it to him and
take back his own, but my father entered the car and closed
the door. .

‘‘ Good-bye, my good teacher.”

‘Good-bye, my child,’’ answered the teacher, while the
train was moving, ‘‘and may the Lord bless you for the con-
solation which you have brought to a poor old man.”’

“Until we meet again,’’ cried my father, his voice filled
with emotion.

But the teacher shook his head, as if saying: ‘‘ We shall
never meet again.”’

‘““Ves, yes,” repeated my father, ‘‘ until we meet again.’

he old man raised his trembling hand toward the skies
and answered: ‘‘’There above!”’ i

CONVALESCENCE
Thursday the 20th.

Who would have thought when I was returning so merry
2nd happy from that lovely excursion with my father that for
ten days I would see neither the country nor the sky! I have
THE HEART OF A BOY — 195

been dangerously ill. I have heard my mother sobbing; I
have seen my father very, very pale, gazing at me fixedly; and
my sister Silvia and my brother talking softly. ‘The doctor,
with his eye-glasses, was there every moment, saying things
which I could not understand. I have, indeed, been on the
point of saying good-bye to all. Ah, my poor mother! There
are at least two or three days of which I remember scarcely
anything, and it seems as though I had a dark and perplexing
dream. It seemed that I had seen next to my bed my good
teacher of the first superior, who was trying to stifle her cough
with her handkerchief, in

order not to disturb me.
I havea confused remem-
brance of my teacher
bending down to kiss me
and he prickled my face
a little with his beard.
And I saw, as through a
mist, the red head of
Crossi and the blonde
curls of Derossi, the Cal-
abrian boy dressed in
black, and Garrone, who
brought me a mandarin
orange with the leaveson the stem, and ran away imme-
diately because his mother was ill. Then I woke up,
feeling as though I had been having a long dream. I
knew that I was better because my mother smiled and I
could hear Silvia singing softly. Oh, what a sad dream I
had! After that, I improved every day. The Little Mason
came and made me laugh for the first time since my illness by
making his hare face, and how well he does it now that his face
isa little elongated, owing to his sickness, poor boy! Coretti
came to see me; also Garoffi, who presented me with two
tickets to the new raffle for a pen-knife with five blades which


196 . THE HEART OF A BOY

he bought from a second-hand dealer in via Bartola. Yester-
day, while I was sleeping, Precossi came and placed his cheek
upon my hand without waking me, and, as he came from his
father’s workshop with his face’ covered with charcoal dust, he
left a black mark upon my sleeve. I found pleasure in seeing
it when I awoke. How green the trees have become in a few
days! and how I envy the boys whom I see running to school
with their books, when my father takes me to the window. In
"a short time, I shall alsoreturn to school; I am so impatient to
see all the boys again, and my desk, the garden, the streets,
and to know all that has happened in this time; I wish once
more to occupy myself with my books and copy-books; which
it seems to mea year since I have seen. Poor mother! how
pale she has grown. My poor father, how tired he looks.
And when my schoolmates come to see me, they walk on tip-
toe and kiss me on the forehead. It makes me feel bad to
think that some day we shall separate. Perhaps, I shall con-
tinue to study with Derossi and some of the other boys, but
how is it about the balance of them? When I get through the
fourth elementary, it will be a good-bye to all; we shall not see
each other again. ‘They will no longer come to my bedside
when I amill. Garrone, Precossi, Coretti—so many fine boys!
Such good and kind companions! Never again!

THE FRIEND OF THE WORKMAN
Tuesday the 20th.

Why ‘never again,’ Enrico? That will depend upon thy-
self. When thou art through the fourth elementary, thou wilt go
to the high school and those companions will go to work ; but thou
wilt remain in the same city perhaps for many years to come.
Why then wilt thou not see one another again? When thou wilt
be at the university or at college, thou wilt seek them in their shops
and in their stores, and it will bea great pleasure to thee to find
>

THE HEART OF A BOY 197

once more the companions of thy childhood who have become men at
work. I should be displeased to know that thou didst no longer go
to see Coretti and Precossi, no matter where they were. Thou wilt
goand spend hours in their company; and thou wilt see, while
studying human life and the world, how many things thou wilt
be able to learn from them that no one else will be able to teach
thee about their own. trades, their families, as well as much about
thy country. Be careful, if thou dost not keep those friendships,
zt will be hard for thee; if thou shouldst not acquaint thyself with
similar persons in the future —I mean other friendships outside
the class to which thou belongest, and only live among a separate
cass. The man who acquaints himself with but a single social
class ts like the student who veads a single book. Do purpose from
this time on to keep these good friends even after separating, and
cultivate their friendship in preference to that of others, because
they are sons of workmen. The men of the upper class are the
officers and the workmen are the soldiers of work. Thus tn society
as well as in the army, the soldier ts not less noble than the officer,
as nobility lies in the merit and not in the profit; it depends wupon
the valor and not upon the rank, But, of there ts a superiority
of merit, it belongs to the soldier, to the workman, who draws from
his own work a mine of profit. Love and respect those among thy
companions who are.the sons of the soldiers of labor. Honor in
them the struggles and sacrifices of their parents. Despise the
difference of fortune and of rank, upon which only the base regu-
late their sentiments and courtesies. Reflect that the blessed blood
which redeemed thy country came almost entirely from the working
dass, from the shops and from the fields. Love Garrone, love
Precossi, love Coretti, love the Little Mason; for in their small
breasts are shrined the hearts of princes ; and swear to thyself that
no change of fortune will ever alieniate thee from those blessed
juvenile friendships of thy soul. Promise thyself that, if 7 forty
years from now, thou shouldst pass through a railway station and
shouldst recognize in the garments ofa railway enginecr with a

black face thy old friend Garrone Ah, tt ts not necessary that


198. THE HEART OF A BOY

“thou shouldst promise it; I am certain that thou wouldst junep on
the engine and throw thy arms around his neck, even if thou wert

a Senator of the Kingdom.
: Thy Father.

GARRONE’S MOTHER
Saturday the 29th.

The first thing I heard when I returned to school was sad
news. Garrone did not come to school for many days because
his mother was seriously ill. She died last Saturday. Yes-
terday morning, as soon as we entered the school, the teacher
said to us:

‘A great misfortune has happened to poor Garrone—
the greatest misfortune that can befall a child; his mother
is dead. He will come back to the class to-morrow. I beg
you all to respect the terrible sorrow which wrings his soul.
When he comes in, greet him with affection, but in a grave
manner. Let no one jest; let no one laugh at him, I beg of
you.”’

Garrone came in this morning a little later than the others.
My heart sank when I saw him. He looked haggard; his
eyes were red, and he could hardly stand. It seemed as
though he had been ill. He was all dressed in black, and one
could scarcely recognize him; it was a pitiful sight. All
looked at him breathlessly. As soon as-he entered the room
and saw the place where his mother had waited for him nearly
every day, and that bench where she had so often bent down
on the days of examination to give him the last word of en-
couragement, and where he had so many times thought of
her, while impatient to get out and run to meet her, he
could not restrain himself from weeping. The teacher drew
_ the boy to him and pressed him to his breast, saying:

‘“Weep, poor boy, but have courage. Your mother is ne
longer here below, but she sees you; she still loves you; she
THE HEART OF A BOY 199

still lives beside you, and some day you will see her again;
because you are good and honest like her. Have courage !”’

Having said this, he escorted him to his bench near me. I
did not dare to look at him. He pulled out his books, which
he had not opened for several days, opening his reader where
there was an engraving representing a mother holding her’
child by the hand. He burst into tears again and laid his head
upon hisarm. ‘The teacher made us a sign to let him alone,
and commenced the lesson. I wished to give him something,
but did not know what. I put my hand on his arm and whis-
pered in his ear:

‘Do not weep, Garrone.’

He made no reply, but without raising his head from the
desk, he put his hand in mine and held it there for some time.
Coming out, no one spoke to him; they all passed him by with
respect and in silence. I saw my mother waiting for me, and
ran to embrace her, but, looking at Garrone, she rebuked me.
I did not immediately understand the reason, but I noticed
that Garrone, who was standing a little to one side, was look-
ing at me, gazing with a look of inexpressible sadness, as if he
meant to say:

‘‘VYou embrace your mother, and I cannot embrace mine
any more. Vou still have your mother; mine is dead.’’

Then I understood why my mother had rebuked me, and I
walked beside her without putting my hand in hers.

GIUSEPPE MAZZINI
Saturday the 29th.

Garrone, pale and with eyes swollen from weeping, came to
school again this morning. He scarcely glanced at the small
presents which we had put upon his desk to console him. The
teacher had brought a page of a book to read to him to give him
courage. First, he notified us that. at one o’clock to-morrow
200 THE HEART OF A BOY

we should go to the City Hall to witness the awarding of a
medal of civic valor to a boy who had saved a little child from
the river Po, and Monday he would dictate the description of
the celebration in the place of the monthly story. Then, turn-
ing to Garrone, who kept his head down, he said to him:

“ Garrone, make an effort and write what Iam about to
ictate."’ Weall took our pens and the teacher commenced
the dictation.

“Giuseppe Mazzini, who was born in Genoa in 1805, and
died in Pisa in 1872, was a great patriotic soul. He had the
Go mind and inspiration of a great writer. He
q ang) was the first apostle of the Italian Revolution.
For the love of his country, he lived for forty





S years in poverty; an exile; perse-
‘ cuted; a fugitive, heroically stead-
fast in his purpose and in his reso-
lutions. Giuseppe Mazzini, who
adored his mother, and who had derived from her all
that which in her strong and kind soul was noblest and
purest, wrote in this way to a faithful friend to console
him upon the greatest of misfortunes. These are his words:
‘My friend, you will never behold your mother again upon this
earth. This is‘a tremendous truth. I do not come to see you
because your sorrow is one of those holy and solemn sorrows
that one must suffer and conquer alone. Do you understand
what,I mean by these words, ‘ You must conquer your sorrow ?'
Conquer that which is least holy in the sorrow, least purifying,
annihilate that which, instead of bettering thesoul, weakens it?
THE HEART OF A BOY 201

But the cther side of sorrow, the most noble side, the one
which absorbs and elevates the soul, that one must remain with
you and never leave you.’ Nothing takes the place of a good
mother here below. In sorrows, in consolations, that life will
still crown you; you will never forget her. You must remem-
ber her, love her, mourn her death in a manner worthy of her.
Oh, friend, listen tome. Death does not exist; it is nothing.
One cannot even understand it. Life is life, and follows the
laws of life: it is progress. Yesterday, you had a mother upon
earth; to-day, you have an angel somewhere else. All that
is good survives, increasing in power through our earthly life.
It is so with the love of your mother. She loves you now more
than ever. Ana you are more responsible for your actions now
in her eyes than you were before. It depends upon your deeds
whether you meet her again, whether. you see her in another
existence. For the love and reverence due your mother, you
must become better and cause her joy. Because of this, you
must from now henceforth, at every act, say to yourself: Would
my mother approve of it? Her transformation has placed near
you a guardian angel to whom you must refer everything that
you do. Bestrong and good. Fight this unhealthy and des-
perate sorrow. Have the tranquility of great souls in great
sufferings: that is what she wishes.’’

‘*Garrone,’’? added the teacher, ‘‘ de strong and peaceful,
that is what your mother wishes. Do you understand ?”’
Garrone made a sign of assent with his head, while flowing —
tears fell upon his hands, upon his book, and upon his desk.



CIVIC VALOR

(MONTHLY STORY)

At one o’clock, we found ourselves with our teacher in fron
of the City Hall to witness the awarding of the medal of civic
valor to the boy who has rescued his companion from the
River Po.
202 ' THE HEART OF A BOY

Upon the balcony on the facade of the building was a
large tricolored flag. We entered the court-yard of the
palace.

It was already crowded with people. We could see at
the end a table with a red cover and some papers laying
upon it. Behind this there was a row of large gilded chairs
for the mayor and the council. The ushers of the munici-
pality, with blue waistcoats and white stockings, were there.
A detachment of civic guards, wearing many medals on their
breasts, were standing on the right side of the court-yard;
next to them, a detachment of customhouse officers; and on
the other side, the firemen, in full dress uniform; and there
were many soldiers scattered around, who had come to look on:
cavalry soldiers, bersaglieri, and artillery men. Among these,
some gentlemen, some working men, some army officers,
women and boys, who were crowding around... We were
pressed into a corner, where there had already gathered many
pupils of the other schools with their teachers, and near us
there was a group of country boys, between ten and
eighteen years of age, who were laughing and talking ina
loud manner, and we understood that they all belonged to the
Borgo Po, class-mates or acquaintances of the one who was to
receive the medal. ‘The employees of the City Hall could be
seen leaning out of the windows, and the loggia of the library
was also crowded with people, pressing against the iron rail-
ings. Inthe one on the opposite side, which is over the en-
trance door, stood a number of girls of the public schools,
many Daughters of Soldiers, with their pretty blue veils. It
seemed as though we were in a theatre. ‘They all talked,
merely looking from time to time toward the red table to
see if any one was appearing. The band was playing at the
end of the portico. The stun shone upon the walls. It was a
beautiful sight.

Suddenly they all began to clap their hands, in the court
yard, in the loggia, and the windows.
THE HEART OF A BOY 203

I stood on tip-toe to see.

The throng which was behind the red table had made
an opening and a man and woman had come through. The
man held a boy by the hand. It was the one who had rescued
his companion.

The man was his father, a mason, in Sunday clothes; the
woman his mother, a little blonde wearing a black dress. The
boy was small and also blonde, and he wore a grey jacket.
Seeing all those people, and hearing all that thunder of ap-
plause, all three stood there not daring to look or move. An
usher of the municipality pushed them next to the table into
the light.

All were silent for a moment. ‘Then the applause broke
forth again from every side. The boy looked at the windows
and then at the loggia where the Daughters of the Soldiers
stood—holding his cap in his hands, looking as though he did
not know where he was. It seemed to me that he looked a
little like Coretti, although.his face was somewhat redder. His
father and mother kept their eyes fixed upon the table.

In the meantime, the boys of Borgo Po, who had come near
us, were pushing themselves ahead and making gestures toward
their companion, in order to be noticed by him, and calling him
in a low voice: ‘‘ Pin! Pin! Pinot!’’ By persevering in calling
him, they attracted his attention. The boy looked at them and
hid a smile behind his cap.

Finally all the guards placed themselves in the position of
“attention.’’

The mayor entered, accompanied by many gentlemen.

He had a white beard and wore a large tricolored sash
around his waist. He went to the table and stood there, and
the others placed themselves on the side and behind him. The
band ceased to play, the mayor made a gesture and all were
silent.

He began to speak. I could not understand the first words
very well, but I knew that he was. telling about the deed. of
204 THE HEART OF A BOY

the boy. Then his voice began to grow iouder and sounded
clear and sonorous through the whole court, so that I could'not
miss a word. ‘‘——-When, from the shore, he saw his com-.
panion struggling in the river, already overtaken by the terror
of death, he tore his clothes from his back and ran without
hesitating for a moment. They cried to him: ‘You will
drown yourself!’ He did not answer. They grasped him,
but he freed himself; they called him, but he was already in.
the water. ‘he river was swollen and the risk very great even
for a man. But he flung himself against death with all the
power of his little body and his great heart. He overtook and
got hold of the unfortunate boy just in time; he was already
under the water, but he drew him to the surface and fought
furiously with the waves which were about to overwhelm him
with his companion, who was clinging to him; he disappeared
many times but came up again with a desperate effort, obsti-
nate, invincible in his noble purpose. Not like a boy who
wishes to save another boy, but like a man, like a father who
fights to save his son who is his hope and his life. God did
not allow such a generous deed to be fruitless. The swimming
child wrested his friend from the giant river and brought him
safely to land, and with the others gave him the first comforts.
After that, he returned home alone quietly, to tell ingenuously
‘of his deed. - s
‘‘Gentlemen, the heroism of man is beautiful and worthy
of veneration; but that of a child, in whom -no aim of ambition
or other interests may be possible, in a child who must have
the more hardihood in proportion to his strength; in a child, |
from whom we ask nothing, who is considered nothing, who
seems to be so noble and amiable, not only when he accom-
plishes what he undertakes but also when he recognizes the
sacrifices of others. Heroism in a child is divine! I will say
nothing more, gentlemen. Ido not wish to cover such simple
grandeur with superfluous praises. Behold before you the noble
and valorous rescuer. Soldiers, salute him like a brother;


The child wrested his friend from the river.
THE HEART OF A BOY 205

mothers, bless him as a son; children, remember his name,
impress pon your mind his face, that he may never be erased
from your memory and from your heart. Approach, boy. In
the name of the King of Italy, I bestow upon you the medal
of civic valor.’’

A rousing hurrah, in a chorus of many voices, echoed
through the palace. The mayor took the medal from the table
and fastened it on the breast of the boy. ‘hen he embraced
and kissed him.

His mother placed a hand over her eyes and his father hung
his head before such honor.

The mayor shook hands with both of them and taking the
decree of decoration, bound with a ribbon, he gave it to the
woman.

Then he turned to the boy and said: ‘‘ May the remem-
brance of this day, so glorious for you, so joyful for your
father and mother, maintain you through all your life on the
road of virtue and honor. Good bye!’

The mayor went out. The band commenced to play, and
everything seemed to be over, when. a squad of firemen made
their way in, and a child of eight or ten years, pushed ahead by
a woman, ran toward the boy wearing the medal and fell into
his arms.

Another crash of applause and hurrahs rang through the
court-yard. All immediately understood that he was the boy
who had been rescued from the Po, and had come to thank
his rescuer. After having kissed him, he took his arm to es-
cort him out. They were at the head of the line; next came
the father and mother. It was difficult for them to make their
way through the crowd, which, forming a line composed of
guards, soldiers, boys and women, all mingled together. They
all pushed ahead, standing on tip-toe to see the boy. ‘Thou-
sands who stood in his way touched his hand. When he
passed in front of the school boys, they all waved their caps
in the air. ‘The boys of Borgo Po made a big uproar, pulling
206 THE HEART OF A BOY

him by his arms and by his jacket and exclaiming: ‘‘ Pin /
Hurrah for Pin! Bravo, Pinot!”

He passed very near me; his face was all aflame. He
was very happy, with his medal hanging on a red, white and
green ribbon. His mother was weeping and laughing, and
his father was twisting his moustache with his hand. He
trembled as if he had a fever. They were still applauding
from the windows, from the balconies, and from the loggia.

As they were about to pass under the portico, the Daugh-
ters of the Soldiers suddenly threw down a shower of pansies,
violets and daisies, which fell upon the head of the boy, of the
father, of the mother, and were scattered on the ground. Some
of the crowd began to pick them up hurriedly, in order to pre-
sent them to the mother. In the meanwhile the band at the
end of the court was playing a very soft and beautiful tune
which seemed like a song of many silvery voices fading away
along the banks of a river.

MAY

THE CHILDREN WITH THE RICKETS
Thursday the 5th.

I took a vacation to-day, because I was not feeling well,

and my mother permitted me to go with her to the asylum for

. children afflicted with the rickets, where she went to recom-

mend a child of our janitor, but she did not allow me to enter
the school. ;

Dost thou not understand, Enrico, why I did not allow thee to
enter? I did not wish to place in front of these unfortunates,
there in the middle of the school, almost as a show, a healthy and
robust boy. They have too many occasions to make sorrowful com-
parisons. Whata sad thing! Tears came from my heart when












ted bodies !”

shriveled and distor

little

“Poor
THE HEART OF A BOY 207



t entered that room. I saw about sixty boys and girls Poor
tortured bones! Poor hands! Poor little shriveled and distorted
feet! Poor deformed bodies! L immediately observed some pretty
faces, some eyes full of intelligence and affection ; there was a little
girl having a face with a pointed nose and chin, who looked like a
little old woman, but she had a sweet and celestial smile. Some of
them looked quite pretty in their faces and without defects, but
when they turned around, how different! A weight fell upon
one’s soul. The physician was there visiting them. He stood them
upon the benches and lifted their little dresses, touching the swollen
stomachs and the enlarged joints, but they did not seem at all bash-
ful, poor creatures! One could see that they were accustomed te be
undressed, examined and turned around to be seen from every
side; and to think that they are now in the best stage of their
disease and they do not suffer much any more! What must they
not have suffered when thetr bodies began to be deformed, when,
with the growing of their deformity, they saw the affection of thet
tompanions diminishing toward them! Poor children! Left alone
for hours in the corner of a room, or in the court-yard, badly fed,
and at times even scoffed at. Some of them tormented for neonths
with bandages and orthopedic apparatuses! Now, however, thanks
to care and good food and gymnastics, many improve. The
teacher made them go through some gymnastic exercises. It was
a pitiful sight, at certain commands, to see them stretch from
under the benches all those bandaged limbs squeezed between
splints, knotty and deformed — those limbs that should have been
covered with kisses! Several of them were not able to rise from
the bench and sat there with their heads bent down upon their
arms, caressing their crutches with their hands, others making a
thrust with their arms would lose their breath and fall down upon
the bench and sit there pale but smiling in order to conceal
their sorrow. Ah, Enrico! You other boys do not appreciate
health, thinking it is so small a thing to be well! 2 was thinking
of the beautiful, strong and thriving boys that their mothers carry
around in triumph, proud of their beauty, and I felt as if [ wanted
208 THE HEART OF A BOY

‘to take all those poor little heads and press them upon my heart in
despair; and say: ‘‘Were I alone in the world, I would never
move from here, I would consecrate my life to you, wait upon you,
act as a mother to you until my last day”? They sang with
such thin, sweet and mournful voices that the music touched my
soul, and when the teacher praised them, they appeared to be so
glad. While she was passing between the benches, they would
kiss her hands and arms as though they felt much gratitude to
those who labored for their benefit. They are very affectionate.
Some also have talent—those little angels—and the teacher told
me that they study well. This young teacher had a hind face,
but with a certain expression of sadness like the reflection of the
misfortunes which she consoles and caresses. Dear girl! A mong
all the creatures who earn their living by toil, there-ts not one
who carns it in a more holy way than you, sainted creature !

Thy Mother.



SACRIFICE
Tuesday the oth.

My mother is good and my sister Silvia is exactly like her,
she has the same kind and gentle heart. Last night I was
copying a part of the monthly story, ‘“/vom the Appennines to the
Andes,’’ of which the teacher has given us each a portion to
copy, because it is so very long, when my sister Silvia entered
on tip-toe and told me softly, speaking in an anxious tone:
““Come with me to mamma. I heard some one talking this
morning. Some of papa’s business has turned out bad. He
was sad and mamma was trying to encourage him. We are
in stringent circumstances, do you understand? ‘There is no
more money. Papa said it would be necessary to make some
sacrifices in order to meet our loss. Now.it is essential
that we two also make some sacrifices, do you not think so?
Are you not ready? Well then, when I speak to mamma, you
THE HEART OF A BOY 209

must nod assent and promise upon your honor, that you will do
all that I am about to tell her.”

After saying this, she took me by the hand and led me
to our mother, who was sewing, all wrapped up in her
thoughts. I sat down on one side of the sofa and Silvia on
the other, and she immediately said:

‘“Mamma, listen, I wish to speak to you. We both wish

to speak to you.’’ Mother looked at usin astonishment.
Silvia then began: ‘‘Is it not true that papa is without
money?”

‘What do you mean?’’ asked
my mother, blushing. ‘‘ No, it is
nottrue. What do you know about
it?) Who has told you this?’’

é ‘“T know it,’’ said
eX Silvia resolutely.
;. ‘Listen, mamma, we
must make some sac-
rifices too. You had promised me a fan
for the end of May, and Ernico was ex-
‘pecting his paint box. We no longer
want them; we do not want any soldz to
be wasted; we shall be just as well satis-
fied without. Do you understand ?’’
’ Mother tried to speak, but Silvia con-
tinued: ‘‘ No, it must be so. We have
come to ‘this conclusion. As long as
papa does not have money, we do not want any dessert or other
fine things, we will be satisfied with soup alone; and we will only
eat bread for breakfast in the morning. This will reduce the
expense for the table, as we spend more than is necessary now.
Besides we promise you that you shall see us just as contented
as before. Is it not so, Enrico?’’
I answered, yes. ‘‘Always as contented as before,’’ repeated
Silvia, closing mamma's mouth with her hand, ‘‘ and if there






210 "HE HEART OF A BOY

are any other sacrifices to make, either in dress or anything
else, we shall be glad to do so. We are ready to sell our
presents; I would give everything I have, I will wait upon you
like a maid, we shall not have anything ordered out of the
house, and I will work with you the whole day, I will do
everything you wish, I am disposed to do everything! To do
everything !’’ she exclaimed, throwing her arms around
mother’s neck, ‘‘ provided that papa and mamma may never
experience any sorrow, in order that I may see you both calm
and in good spirits as you were before, with your Silvia and your
Enrico, who love you so much, and who would give their
lives for you !”’

.I had never seen my mother so happy as when she heard
those words. She never kissed us on the brow in that way
before, weeping and laughing and unable to speak. After
awhile, she assured Silvia that she had misunderstood the situ-
ation, that we were not in such reduced circumstances as she
thought; luckily for us, we were not destitute. She thanked us
hundreds of times, and was cheerful all the evening, and when
my father came home she told him everything. He did not
open his mouth, my poor father! But this morning, when I was
taking my seat at the table, I experienced a great pleasure min-
gled with some sadness. I found my box of paints under my
napkin, ana Silvia found her fan.

THE FIRE *
Thursday the rrth.

I had just finished copying my portion of the story, ‘‘ From
the Appennines to the Andes,’’ this morning, and was trying to
find a theme for my individual composition, which our teacher
asked us to write, when I heard-an unusual sound of voices on
the stairs and soon after two firemen entered our apartment,
"This happened the night of January 27th, 1880.


“{ will do everything you wish—everything |”
THE HEART OF A BOY 211

who asked my father’s permission to inspect the stoves and the
chimneys, as a smoke-pipe was on fire upon the roof, and they
did not know which one it was. My father told them to go
ahead, and, although we had no fire lighted anywhere in our
apartment, they went around from room to room, laying
their ear against the walls to hear if a fire was roaring inside
of the flues which run from the other stories of the house.

While they were going through the other rooms, my father —
said tome: ‘‘ Enrico, here isa theme for your composition,
‘The Firemen.’ Listen tome and write itdown. I saw them
at work one evening two years ago, when I came out of the
Balbo theatre late at night. Going through the via Roma, I
saw an unusual light and a crowd of people were running; a
house was on fire. Tongues of flame and clouds of smoke
were bursting from the windows and from the roof. Men and
women appeared on the window sills and disappeared, uttering
despairing cries. There was a great noise in front of the door
of the house, and the crowd shouted: ‘‘ They are burning —
alive! Help! Help! The firemen!’’ At that moment a
wagon arrived and four firemen sprang out of it. They were
the ‘first ones to arrive and they rushed inside the house.
Hardly had they entered when a horrible sight was witnessed.
A woman peeped from a third story window, shouting and
clutching at the railing, climbed over it and remained sus-
pended: in that way, almost in space, with her back turned,
bending under the smoke and flames which were creeping from
room to room and leaped almost to her head. ‘The crowd
uttered acry of horror. The firemen, who had by mistake
been stopped at the second floor by the horrified lodgers, had
already made an opening through the wall, and rushed into a
room, when a hundred cries from below told them:

‘©
‘They flew to the third story. A terrible destruction was
going on there; wooden beams were falling; the corridors were
filled with flames anda stifling smoke. The only way that
212 THE HEART OF A BOY

remained by which to reach these lodgers was to pass over the
roof, ‘They rushed up immediately, and a minute after, aman
was seen like a black phantom going over the tile roof in the
midst of fire and smoke; it was the corporal of the firemen,
who was the first to reach the side of the roof which corre-
sponded to the suite of rooms cut off by the fire.

“In order to reach this point, it was necessary to go over an
extremely narrow place between the dormer window and the
eaves. All the remainder of the house was in flames and that
little space was covered with snow and ice and there was not
a projection one could grasp with the hand.

“Tt is impossible for him to go through there!’ said the
crowd below.

‘The corporal came out on the edge of the roof ; every one
shuddered and stood looking, with suspended breath; he passed
over; an immensé hurrah arose to the sky. ‘The corporal
pushed further ahead, and having reached the threatened
point, began with furious blows of his hatchet to split the
beams, shingles and tiles in order to make an opening by
which he could enter the room below. AI! this time the wo-
"man remained suspended outside the window; the fire was rag-
ing above her head; one moment more and she would have
fallen into the street.

‘The opening was made, the corporal was seen taking off his
shoulder belt and sliding down; the other firemen havin g arrived
followed him. At the same moment, a very tall patent ladder,.
which had just been brought, was placed on the entablature of
the house in front of the windows from which the flames and
maddening cries were issuing. But every one thought it was
too late.

‘**“No one can be saved!’ they were crying. ‘ The fire-
men will be burned to death!’ ‘It ig all over!’ « They
are dead!’ Suddenly the black figure of the corporal, illu-
minated by the flames overhead, appeared at the window over
the balcony. The woman clasped her arms around his neck ‘
THE HEART OF A- BOY 218

he caught her by the waist with both arms and pulled her up
and laid her inside the room. ‘The crowd gave vent toa shout
of a thousand voices which deafened the uproar of the fire.

“« But how about the others? How can they get down.’
The ladder was leaning on the roof in front of another window,
but a wide space intervened between them.

‘* * How will they be able to reach it?’

‘‘While the crowd were saying this, one of the firemen came
out of the window, thrust his right foot upon the window sill
and the left upon the ladder, and standing thus in the air, he
grasped the lodgers one by one as the other firemen reached
them out to him from the window, handed them over to his
companion who had come up on the ladder, and who, after
securing them on the ladder, one after the other, and with the -
assistance of the firemen below, helped them to descend to the
street. ‘Ihe woman who had clung to the balcony was the first
to come out, then a little girl, another woman and an old man
followed. All were saved. After the old man, the firemen
came down; and the corporal, who had been the first to run up,
was the last one to descend.

‘The crowd received them all with an outburst of applause,
but when the last one appeared, the van-guard of the rescuers,
the one who had faced the abyss before the others, the one who
would have died if it had been necessary for any one to lose his
life, the crowd saluted him like a triumphing conqueror, shout-
ing and stretching their arms with a loving impulse of admira-
tion .and gratitude, and in a few moments his obscure name,
Giuseppe Robbino, resounded from thousands of lips. Do you
understand? This is true courage! ‘The courage of the heart
which does not stop to reason, which does not waver, which
goes blindly like a flash of lightning wherever he hears the cries
of the dying. Some day, I will take you to see the firemen
mancetivering and will point out to you Corporal Robbino,
as I am sure that you would be very glad to meet him, would
you not?”’
214 THE HEART OF A BOY

I answered that I should.

“Here he is,’’ said my father.

I turned around startled. ‘The two firemen, having finished
their inspection, were crossing the room to go out.

My father pointed to the smaller of the two, who had stripes
of braid on his sleeves, and said to me: ‘“‘ Shake the hand of .
Corporal Robbino.’’

The corporal, smiling, reached his hand to me; I shook it: ’
he saluted me and left.

‘“‘Remember it well,’’ said my father, ‘“among thousands
of hands that you will shake in your life, there may not be ten
that are worth this one.”’

FROM THE APENNINES TO THE ANDES

Many years ago a Genoese lad of about thirteen, son of a
workman, went from Genoa to America, all alone, to search
for his mother.

Two years before she had gone to Buenos Ayres, the capi-
tal of the Argentine Republic, to enter the service of some rich
family, in order to earn in a short time enough to put the fam-
- ily in better cireumstances; for, owing to various mishaps, they
had falien into poverty and debt. There are thousands of wo-
men who would take such a long journey with that object.
The people who went into service there, on account of the
large salaries which they received, would return home in a few
years with several thousands of lire. ;

The poor mother had wept bitter tears at being separated
from her children—the oldest was eighteen and the youngest
eleven—but she departed full. of courage and hope. She had -
quite a pleasant voyage, and as soon as she landed, through
the influence of a Genoese cousin of her husband, who had
been established in business there for a long time, she found
work with a good Argentine family, who paid her high wages
THE HEART OF A BOY 215

and treated her kindly. Hora short time she kept up'a regu-
lar correspondence with her family. As they had agreed, the
husband would direct letters to the cousin, who transmitted
them to the woman, and the latter remitted the answers to him
and he would send them to Genoa, adding some lines of his
own. Earning eighty lire a month and not spending anything
for herself, she was sending home a nice little sum of money
every three months, with which
the hushand, who was an up-
right man, was gradually pay-
ing his most urgent debts, and
by degrees regaining his good
wets Skene ey reputa-
E =e sais -- tion. In
° the
meantime he was working
and satisfied with his own
affairs, always cherishing
the hope that the mother
would return’soon, as the
home seemed empty with-
out her. The younger child
especially, who loved his
mother so much, was de-
pressed and unable to rec-
oncile himself to his moth-
er’s absence.

A year had passed since
they had parted, and after receiving a brief letter in which
the woman said she was not feeling well, they received
no more news. ‘They wrote to the cousin twice, but he
did not reply. They wrote to the Argentine family by
whom she had been employed, but probably the letter
did not reach its destination, as they had misspelled the
name in the address, and they never received an answer.



216 THE HEART OF A BOY

Fearing some mishap had occurred, the husband wrote to the
Italian consul at Buenos Ayres to make some inquiries. After
three months the consul wrote back that, in spite of the adver-
tisements in the papers, no one had even appeared to give any
information concerning such a person. It must have been
that the woman had not given the Argentine family her true
name, thinking to spare the reputation of her family, whom _
she thought might be disgraced by her being a servant. A
few months more passed without any news. Father and sons
were in consternation, and the smaller of the boys was oppressed
by a sadness which he could not conquer. What could be
done? To whom should they have recourse? ‘The first thought
of the father had been to go and look for his wife in America.
But how about his work. Who would support his sons? The
gldest son could not go away, as he was just beginning to earn
something, and he was necessary to the family. So they lived
pn in constant anxiety, asking each other, day after day, the
same painful questions, and looking silently at each other.
Finally, one evening, Marco, the younger of the two boys,
said resolutely: ‘‘I will go to America to look for my mother.”
His father shrugged his shoulders sadly but did not answer.
It was a loving thought but an impossibility to undertake a
trip to America alone at the age of thirteen, when it took a
month to get there! But the boy patiently persisted. He
spoke of it that day and the day after, and every day with great
calmness, reasoning with the good sense of aman. ‘“‘ Others
have gone there,” he would say, ‘‘who are smaller than I.
When once on the boat, I will reach there the same as any one
else. When I arrive, I have only to find the shop of my
cousin. ‘There are so many Italians there that some one will
show me the way. When TI find my cousin, I can easily find
my mother. If I do not find him,,I will go to the consul, I
will look for the Argentine family. No matter what happens, -
there is work for all there and I will also find work, at least
until I can earn enough to return home.’’ ‘Thus little by little
THE HEART OF A BOY _ 217

he almost persuaded his father to let him go. His father had
the greatest esteem for him; he knew that he was judicious and
courageous; that he was accustomed to privations and sacri-
fices; and that all these good traits would acquire double force
in the holy undertaking of finding his mother whom he adored.
In addition to this, it happened that the captain of a steamer,
a friend of an acquaintance of his, having heard something
about the matter, pledged himself to provide a third-class
ticket for him to America.

After a littie further hesitation, the father consented and
the trip was decided upon. They filled a bag with clothes, put
some “‘scudi” in his pocket, and gave him the address of his
cousin; and on a beautiful morning in the month of May, they
saw him on board.

“My child! My Marco!’’ said his father, pressing the
last kiss upon his cheek, with tears in his eyes, as he stood
upon the steps of the steamer which was about to leave, ‘‘ have
courage. You leave on a holy undertaking and God will help
you.”

Poor Marco! He had a strong heart, prepared for all the
hardest trials of that voyage, but when he saw his beautiful
Genoa disappear, when he found himself upon the high seas
on that large steamer thronged with emigrants, alone, unknown
to every one, with a little bag which held all his fortune, a
sudden discouragement seized him. Heremained for two days
sitting at the bows like a lost dog, eating scarcely anything, op-
pressed by a great desire to weep. Every kind of sad present-
iment, was passing through his mind, and the saddest, the most
terrible was the most persistent in its return, the thought that
his mother might be dead. In his painful and broken sleep,
ne always saw the face of a stranger looking at him with an
air of pity, and whispering in his ear: ‘‘ Your mother is
dead.”’ Then he would awake with a suppressed cry on his
lips.

Nevertheless, at the first sight of the Atlantic Ocean, after
218 _ THE HEART OF A BOY

passing the Straits of Gibraltar, he began to have a little
courage and hope, but it was of short duration. That immense
but never varying sea, the increasing heat, the sadness of all
the poor people who surrounded him, the thought of his own
solitude returned to depress him. ‘The days which followed,
empty and monotonous, were confused in his memory as it
happens with a sick person. It seemed to him that he had
been at sea for a year. Every morning when he awoke, he
felt a new stupor at being there alone, on that immense body.
of water, on a voyage to America. Beautiful flying fishes fell
from time to time upon the boat. He saw those marvelous
tropical sunsets, those great blood-red clouds all aflame, those
nocturnal phosphorescences, that make the ocean appear like
a sea of lighted lava, all of which did not give him the impres-
sion of real things but of prodigies seen in dreams.

He experienced some days of bad weather, during which
he remained locked in the dormitory, where everything was
rolling and cracking, in the midst of a frightful chorus of la-
mentations and imprecations, and he believed that his last hour
had come. He sailed for three days through a yellowish sea,
through days of unbearable heat, of infinite annoyance, ot
hours interminable and sinister, during which the passengers,
enervated and stretched motionless upon the berths, looked like
dead bodies. It seemed as though this voyage would never
come toanend. Sea and sky, sky and sea, to-day like yester-
day, and to-morrow like to-day—the same, always the same—
eternally. :

He would lean over the bulwarks for hours, looking at that
boundless sea, dumbfounded; thinking vaguely of his mother
until his eyes closed and he was falling down into sleep, and
in his dream he would again see that strange face looking at
him with pity and whispering in his ear: ‘‘ Your mother is
dead!” ’

At that voice, he would wake with a start and resume his
dreamings with open eyes, looking at the unchangeable horizon,
THE HEART OF A BOY 219

The voyage lasted twenty-seven days! ‘The last days were
the best.. The weather was beautiful and the air was fresh.
He had formed the acquaintance of an old man, a Lombard,
who was going to America to join his son, a farm laborer near
the city of Rosario. The boy told him everything about his
home, and the old man would repeat to him from time to time,
patting him on the back of the neck: ‘‘ Courage, my boy, you
will find your mother in good health and contented.’’ The
companionship of the old man comforted him, and his presenti-
ments became more joyful. Sitting at the bow, under that
beautiful starry sky, next to the old farmer who was smoking
his pipe, in the midst of a group of emigrants, he fancied the
scene of his arrival at Buenos Ayres'a hundred times. He
would see himself in a certain-street, finding his cousin, rush-
ing into the shop and asking him: ‘‘How is my mother?
Where is she? Let us go at once! Let us go at once!’ They
would run together, ascend the steps, a door would open.
and here his mute soliloquy would stop and his imagination
would be lost in the inexplicable sentiment which caused him.
to look slily at a little medal which he wore on his neck, mur-
muring his prayers while kissing it.

_ They arrived at Buenos Ayres the twenty-seventh day after
' their departure. It was a beautiful rosy morning in the month
of May when the steamer dropped anchor in that immense
river La Plata. On the shore of the river stretched out the
vast city of Buenos Ayres, the capital of the Argentine Re-
public. The fine weather seemed to him to be a good omen.
He was fairly beside himself with joy and impatience. His
mother was only a few miles distant from him! - Ina few hours
he would see her! He was in America, in the New World,
and he had had the courage to comealone! All that extremely
long voyage seemed tohim as nothing. It seemed to him that
he had dreamed and awoke at that point. He was so happy
that he experienced no surprise or distress when he went
through his pockets and found that one of the packages into


220 THE HEART OF A BOY

which he had divided his little treasure in order not to lose it
all, was gone. Some one had stolen it from him. He had
only a few lire left, but what did he care now that he wasso -
near his mother? With his bag in his right hand, he left the
steamer with the other Italians and stepped into a little tug
boat which carried him near the shore. ‘Then he got into a
row-boat, bearing the name of Andrea Dor za, and came upon
the wharf. He bade good-bye to his old Lombard friend and
started with long strides toward the city.

As soon as he arrived at: the entrance to the first street, he
stopped a man who was passing and begged him to tell him
which way to go to reach the street of los Artes. It happened
that he stopped an Italian workman. ‘The latter looked at him
with curiosity and asked him if he knew how to read. ‘T‘he
boy made a sign of assent. ‘‘Well,’’ said the workman,
pointing out the street from which he came, ‘‘ go up the street
reading the names at the corners until you find the one you
want.’’? The boy thanked him and began walking up the
street before him. :

It was a straight and rather narrow road, and seemed end-
less, flanked on either side by low, white houses, which looked
like so many little cottages. Ii was crowded with people, car-
tiages and large wagons, making a deafening roar. Here and
there hung enormous flags of various colors upon which was
written in large letters the announcement of the departure of
steamers for unknown cities. All the way, turning to the right
and left, he saw the streets stretching as far ahead as one
could see, ali lined with low, white houses and filled with
people and wagons. The streets all terminated in the bound-
less American plain, similar to the horizon on the sea. ‘The
town seemed to him infinite. He thought that one could walk
for days and days and for weeks, always seeing here and there
other streets like those, and that the whole of America was
covered with them. He looked attentively at the names of
the streets, some of them very strange, which he could only
THE HEART OF A BOY 221

read with great effort. Every new street he reached his heart
would throb, hoping it might be the one he wanted. He
looked at every woman, thinking that he might meet his
mother. He saw one walking in front of him who caused the
blood to leap in his veins. He overtook her; looked at her—it
was a negress. He kept going and going, hastening his steps.
When he reached a certain street and read the name, he stood
there as though rooted to the sidewalk; it was the street of los
Artes. He turned into it and saw the number 117; the store
of his cousin was 175. He hurried his gait, almost running,
until he reached the number 171, then he was obliged to stop
and take breath, and he said to himself: ‘‘Oh, my mother,
my mother! Is it really true that I will see you in a few
moments?’’ He ran forward and came to a small dry-goods
store. It was the one. He peeped in and saw a woman with
eye-glasses.

““What do you want, boy?’’ she asked him in Spanish.

The boy, speaking with difficulty, said, ‘‘Is this not the
store of Francesco Merelli? ”

‘Francesco Merelli is dead,’’ replied the woman in the
Italian tongue.

The boy felt as if he had received a blow upon his breast.

‘*When did he die?”’

“A long time ago,’’ replied the woman. ‘‘It is several
months since he died. He met with failures and fled. It is
said that he went to Bahia Blanca, a great distance from here,
and that he died as soon as he reached there. ‘This store is my
own.”’

The boy grew pale.

Then he said rapidly: ‘‘Merelli knew my mother, who
was here in the service of Mequinez. He was the only one
who could tell me where to find her. I came to America on
purpose to find my mother. Morelli sent her our letters. I
must find my mother.” :

‘*Poor child,’’ said the woman, ‘‘I do not know. I will
229 THE HEART OF A BOY

ask the boy out in the court-yard; he knew the young man
who was running errands for Merelli. It may be that he
knows something about it.’’

She went to the énd of the store and called the boy, who
came indirectly. ‘‘ Tell me,’’ said the store-keeper, ‘‘ do you
remember that young man whom Merelli sent at times to carry
letters to a woman in service in the house of his countryman?’’
““¥o Signor Mequinez,’’ the boy replied. ‘‘ Yes, madam, I
remember. He lives atthe end of the street los Artes.”’

‘Thanks, madam, thanks!’’ cried Marco. ‘‘ Tell me the
number. Do you know it? Accompany me at once, I still
have a few soldi left.’’

Marco said this with so much warmth, that without waiting
for the order of the woman, the other boy exclaimed: ‘‘ Let
us go,” and started out immediately.

Almost running and without saying a word, they went to
the end of a very long street, entered the entrance hall of a
small white house, stopped in front of a beautiful iron gate
from which a court, filled with vases of beautiful flowers, could
be seen. Marco pulled the bell vigorously.

A young lady appeared. ‘‘Does the family of Mequinez
live here?’’ anxiously inquired the lad.

‘They did live here,’’ answered the young lady, pronoune-
ing her Italian with a Spanish accent. ‘‘ The Zeballos live
here now.”’

‘‘And where have the Mequinez family gone?’’ asked
Marco with a palpitating heart.

“They have gone to Cordova.”

“Cordova!’’ exclaimed Marco, ‘‘ where is Cordova?
And how is it about the woman they had in their service? ‘The
woman, my mother! That woman was my mother! Did
they take her with them ?’’

The young lady looked at him and said: ‘‘I do not know.
My father who knew them before they left may be able to tell
you. Wait a moment.”’
THE HEART OF A BOY 223

She ran away and came back in a short time with her father,
a tall gentleman with a grey beard. He looked for a moment
at that sympathetic type of a little Genoese sailor with blonde

hair and aquiline nose and said in bad Ee “Is your
mother a Genoese ?’”'

Marco replied‘ ‘‘yes!”’

“Well, the Genoese woman went with the family she served.
I am certain that she did.”

‘* And where have they gone?

“To the town of Cordova.”

The lad drew a deep sigh and then said with resignation,
‘Then I must go to Cordova..’

‘« Ah, nino!” exclaimed the gentleman looking at him
with an air of compassion. ‘‘ Poor boy! It is hundreds of
miles from here to Cordova.”

Marco grew as pale as death and Jeaned upon the iron
railing.

The gentleman, moved to pity, opened the door and said:
“Tet us see—come in a moment, Let us see what can be

done.” He offered Marco a seat, sat down and had him tell
his story, listening to him very attentively. He stood a
moment in thought and then said resolutely: ‘‘‘ You have no

money, have you?”

“‘T have still—a little,’’ answered Marco.

The gentleman again thought for about five minutes and
then seated himself at a desk and wrote a letter, sealed it, and
handing it to the boy, saidtohim: “‘ Listen, Italianito. ‘Take
this letter and go to Boca. It is asmall town, half Genoese, at
about two hours distance from here. Any one can show you
thé way. Go there and look for the gentleman to whom this
letter is addressed, and whom every one knows. Take this
letter to him. He will arrange for you to leave to-morrow for
Rosario, and he will recommend you to some one out there who
will take it upon himself to see that you reach Cordova, where
vou will find the Mequinez family and your mother. In the
224. THE HEART OF A BOY

meanwhile, take this, and he thrust a few lire into his hand.
“Go, and have courage. You will find your countrymen
everywhere; you need not be ashamed. Adios.”’

The boy said: ‘‘’ Thanks.” He could find no other words
with which to express himself. He went out with his bag, and
taking leave of his little guide, he started slowly towards Boca,
filled with sadness and amazement, as he marched through
those noisy streets.

All that happened to him from that moment until the even-
ing of the next day was always confused and uncertain in his
memory, like the vagaries of a person in a fever. He was so
tired, disappointed, aad despondent. He slept ina small room
of a house in Boca the first night, by the side of a porter of the
harbor. He passed nearly the whole of the next day sitting
upon a pile of planks as if in a trance, gazing at thousands of
ships, large boats, and tug boats, and that evening he found
himself on the poop of a large sailing vessel, laden with fruit,
which was leaving for the city of Rosario, managed by three
robust Genoese, bronzed by exposure to the sun, whose voices
and beloved dialect furnished him a little comfort.

The voyage lasted for three days and four nights. Itwasa
continued surprise to the little traveler. ‘Three days and four
nights on that marvelous river of Parana. In comparison to
it, our river Po is notking but a rivulet, and the length of Italy
quadrupled does not equal the length of its course. ‘Khe boat
moved slowly against that immense body of immeasurable
water. It passed between long islands which were once the
haunts of serpents and tigers, now covered with orange and
willow trees, something like floating woods; and now it passed
through narrow canals, from which it seemed it would never
come out; then it sailed through vast expanses of water look-
ing like large tranquil lakes; then again between islands and
through the intricate channels of an archipelago, in the midst of
enormous masses of vegetation. A most profound silence
reigned. For long distances, the shores, the solitary and vast
THE HEART OF A BOY 225

waters offered the suggestion. of an unknown river, upon which
that poor sailing vessel was the first one in the world to ven-
ture. ‘The farther he advanced, the more that monstrous river
dismayed him. He would imagine that his mother could be
found at the source of that river and that the voyage would last
for years. ‘Twice a day he ate a little bread and salt meat with
the boatmen, who, observing that he was sad, did not say a
word tohim. During the night, he slept upon the deck, and
woke once in awhile astounded by the limpid light of the moon,
which was glittering over the vast waters and whitening the
distant shores, and his head was oppressed. ‘‘ Cordova!’ he
repeated that name: ‘‘Cordova!’’ like the name of one of
those mysterious cities of which he had heard in some fable.
Then he would think: ‘‘ My mother passed through here, she
has seen these islands, these shores,” and then those places did
not seem so strange and solitary to him, upon which the gaze
of his mother had rested. During the night, one of the boat
men sang. ‘That song reminded him of the songs which his
mother sang him to sleep when he was a babe. The last night
when he heard that song, he sobbed. The boatman stopped,
and then he cried out: ‘‘Courage! Courage, my child!
What is the use? A Genoese does not cry because he is
so far away from home! ‘The Genoese go around the world,
glorious and triumphant !””

Hearing those words, Marco shook himself, raised himself
haughtily, beating the helm with his fist: ‘‘Yes,"’ he said to him-
self ‘should I have to search through the whole world and travel
years and years yet, and walk hundreds of miles, I shall go
ahead until I find my mother. Even if I should reach her
dying and drop dead at her feet, if I may only see her once
again! Courage!’’—In this state of mind, on a rosy morn-
ing at daybreak, he arrived in front of the city of Rosario,. sit-
nated ona high bank of the Parana, where the beflagged yards
of hundreds of ships from all over the world were mirrored in
the water.
226 THE HEART OF A BOY

After landing, he went up to the city, with his bag in his
hand, to look for the Argentine gentleman for whom his pro-
tector at Boca had given him a visiting card with a few words
of recommendation written upon it. He beheld those inter-
minable streets, traversing in all directions, flanked by low,
white houses; and above the roofs there were great bundles of
telegraph and telephone wires which looked like enormous
spider webs. The streets were filled with swarms of people,
horses and wagons. His mind was confused; he thought for a
moment that he was entering Buenos Ayres again, and that he
would have to look for his cousin once more. He walked
around for about an hour, making turn after turn, and it
seemed to him all the time as though he were walking over the
same street. By constantly inquiring, he found the house of
his new protector. He rang the bell. A big, blonde man,
with a gruff voice, who looked like a country steward, awk-
wardly asked him, with a strange pronunciation, ‘‘ What do
you want?”

The boy spoke the name of the master.

The steward replied, ‘‘ The master left last night with all
his family for Buenos Ayres.”

The boy was speechless.

Then he stammered, ‘‘ But I—I know no one here! I am
alone !’’ and he showed the card.

The country steward took it and read it, and said brusquely,
““I do not know what to do about it. I will hand it to him
when he comes back in a month.”

“But I--I am alone. I am in want,’’ said the boy in a
‘beseeching voice.

“*Come, come, now,”’ said the man, ‘‘ are there not enough
parasites who come from your country to Rosario to beg? Go
back and do your begging in Italy.’’

And he closed the gate in his face.

The boy stood there as though petrified.

Then he slowly took up his bag again and went out with
THE HEART OF A BOY 227

his heart full of anguish and his mind in a whirl, at once as-
sailed by a thousand sorrowful thoughts. What was there to
be done? Where could he go? From Rosario to Cordova
was a day’s ride by rail. Hehad only a few lire. Deducting
what he needed for that day, he would scarcely have anything
left. How could he find money for his trip? He could work,
but how, and of whom should he ask work? Ask for alms!
No, no; to be rebuked, humiliated and insulted as before? No,
never, never again; he would rather die! With that thought,
and seeing in front of him a very long street which lost itself
far away in the boundless plain, his courage gave way again.
He threw his bag on the sidewalk, and sat with his shoulders
against the wall, bending his head upon his hands, without
crying, in an attitude of desolation.

The people in passing jostled him with their feet, the
wagons filled the air with noise; some boys stopped to look at
him. He remained in that position fora long time.

At last he was startled by a voice, half Italian and half Lom-
bard, which called out: ‘‘ What is the matter, little fellow?’

He raised his head at those words and immediately jumped
to his feet, uttering an exclamation of surprise: ‘‘ You here!”
It was the old Lombard farmer with whom he had formed a
companionship during his voyage.

The surprise of the farmer was not less than that of the boy,
but the latter did not give him time to question him, and he
told rapidly all that had happened to him since he left him at
the wharf in Buenos Ayres. ‘‘ Now I am without money.
That is my condition, I must work. Find me some work,
that I may be able to earn a few lire; I will do anything; I
will carry merchandise, sweep the streets, I can run errands, I
can work in the country, I will be satisfied to live upon black
bread, if only I may be able to leave soon, if only I may find
my mother again. Do me this favor; some work; give me
some work, for the love of God, as this is more than I can en-
dure!’’
228 THE HEART OF A BOY

“The deuce,’’ said the farmer, looking around and rubbing
his chin. ‘‘ What a tale! One can easily say ‘some work.’
Let us think a little. There may be a way to find thirty lire
among so many compatriots! ’’

The boy was looking at him, comforted by a ray of hope.

“‘Come with me,’’ said the farmer.

‘* Where ?’”’ asked the boy, picking up his bag.

** Come with me.”’

The farmer started out and the boy followed him. They
went for a long distance in the street without talking. The
farmer stopped at the door of an inn, which had a sign in the
shape of a star upon which was written: ‘‘Za Estrella de
ftalia.’’ He looked in and turning to the boy said playfully:
‘* We have come at a good time.’’

They entered one of the large halls where there were sev-
eral tables and a number of men seated, who were drinking
and talking loudly. The old Lombard approached the first
table, and from the way in which he saluted the six customers
who sat around it, one could see that he had been in their com-
pany only a short time before.

‘They were red in the face and were clinking their glasses,
shouting and laughing. ‘‘Comrades,’’ said the Lombard,
standing up and presenting Marco: ‘‘ Here is a poor boy, a
countryman of ours, who came from Genoa to Buenos Ayres
searching for his mother. When he reached Buenos Ayres,
they told him: ‘She is not here, she has gone to Cordova.’
He comes to Rosario in a boat, traveling three days and three
nights, with two lines of recommendation; he presents the
card and they make an ugly face at him. He has not the
shadow of acentesimo. He is here alone and in despair. I
know him; he is a boy full of heart; let us think a lit-
tle. Can he not find enough here to pay for his ticket to Cor-
dova-and find his mother? Shall we abandon him here like a
dog?’ eee
‘‘Never in the world!’’ ‘‘T’hat shall never be said!” they


THE HEART OF A BOY 229

cried together, striking their fists on the table. ‘‘ A country-

man of ours!’’ ‘‘ Come here, little fellow.” ‘‘ We, too, are
emigrants here!’’ ‘‘Look what a fine rogue.’”’ ‘‘Out with
your money, comrades!’’ ‘‘Good boy! He came here alone.

He has lots of pluck !”’ ‘‘ Have a drink, compatriot!’’? ‘‘ We
will send you to your mother, never fear.”

One pinched him in the cheek, another patted him on the
shoulder, and a third relieved him of his bag. Some of the
other emigrants arose from the neighboring tables and ap-
proached. The story of the boy made the rounds of the inn.
Three Argentine customers came in from the next room, and
in less than ten minutes the Lombard farmer, who was passing
the hat, gathered in over nine dollars.

‘Do you see,’’? he said, turning toward the boy, ‘‘ how
quickly one does business in America ?’’

‘* Drink,” cried another, reaching out a glass of wine, ‘‘to
the health of your mother.” They-all raised their glasses, and
Marco repeated:

~ “To the health of my———’”’ but a sob of joy choked his
utterance, and replacing his glass upon the table, he threw his
arms around the old man’s neck.

He left for Cordova the next morning before daybreak, bold
and smiling, his heart filled with happy presentiments. But
there is no joyousness which reigns for a long time surrounded
by the sinister aspects of nature. The weather was dark and
disagreeable. ‘The train was empty and ran through an im-
mense plain, bereft of every sign of vegetation. He found
himself alone in a very long car which resembled those that
are used for carrying the wounded. He gazed to the right and
left, seeing nothing but a boundless solitude, and here and
there were scattered small dwarf trees with distorted trunks
and branches, in such shapes as he had never seen before, as
though they had been twisted and gnarled by wrath and
anguish. Rank and dark vegetation could be seen everywhere,
which gave to the prairie the appearance of a boundless ceme-
230 THE HEART OF A BOY

tery. He would doze for a half hour and then look around |
him again; always seeing the same spectacle. The railway
stations were lonesome like the huts of hermits, and not a voice
could be heard. It seemed to him that he was on a lost train,
abandoned in the middle of a desert. He fancied that every
station he passed by ought to be the last, and from that point
he was going to enter into some mysterious and frightful land
inhabited by savages. A sharp breeze blew in his face. When
sailing from Genoa about the last of April, his friends had not
thought that in South America he would find a wintry season
and they had clad him in summer clothes. After many hours,
he began to suffer from the cold, and in addition to this suffer-
ing he felt the lassitude of the previous days, filled with violent
emotions, and of harassing and sleepless nights. He fell asleep
and slept for a long time; when he awoke, he felt chilled and
sick, A vague terror seized him for fear he might be taken
ill or die on his way, and be thrown into the midst of that
desolate plain, where his body would be torn by dogs and
birds of prey, like the bodies of horses and cows which be
had seen at different places near the railway track, and
from which he would turn away his eyes in disgust. In the
midst of the restless agitation of that sad silence of nature, his
imagination would become excited and grow very somber. Was
he over-confident of finding his mother in Cordova? And if
she had not gone there? If that gentleman of the via los Artes
should have made a mistake? And if she were dead?

With such oppressing thoughts, he fell asleep again and
dreamed he was in Cordova; it was night and he heard from
every door and from every window people cry: ‘‘She is not
here! She is not here!’’ This roused him with a start, ter-
rified with horror; when he saw at the end of the car three
bearded men, wrapped in shawls of various colors, who were
talking softly among themselves and looking at him. A sus-
picion that they were murderers flashed through his mind, and
he thought they were planning to kill him, to rob him of his
THE HEART OF A BOY 231

bag. To the cold and the oppression of his heart fear was added;
and his perturbed fancy became distorted, while the three men
still gazed at him.

One of them got up and moved towards him. Then he lost
his self-control, and, running to meet him with his arms out-
stretched, he cried: ‘‘I have nothing! Iama poor boy! I
came from Italy to look for my mother! I am alone, do not
hurt me!’’

The men understood everything and were moved to pity.
They caressed and quieted him, saying many words which he
could not understand, and, noticing that his teeth were chatter-
ing with the cold, they put their shawls around him and had
him sit down again. He fell asleep once more when it was
growing dark. When they woke him up, he was in Cor-
dova.

Ah, what a breath he drew, and with what impetuosity he
rushed out of the car. He asked a railway employe at the sta-
tion where the engineer Mequinez lived. ‘The latter gave him
the name of a church next to which was the Mequinez dwell-
ing. ‘The boy hurried hither. It was night when he entered
the city. It seemed to him that he was again entering Ro-
sario, and that he saw those straight streets flanked by small
white houses and crossed by straight and endless streets.
There were few people out, but under the light of the street
lamps far apart he saw some strange faces of an unfamiliar
color, something between a black and greenish complexion.
Raising his eyes from time to time, he beheld churches of a
peculiar architecture, which were outlined black and enormous
against the sky. The city was dark and silent; but after hav-
ing crossed that immense desert, it seemed cheerful to him.
He inquired his way of a priest, and soon after found the
church and the house. He pulled the bell with a trembling
hand, while pressing the other on his breast to suppress the
palpitation of his heart, which seemed to be jumping into his
throat.
232 THE HEART OF A BOY

An old woman came to open the door with a lamp in her
hand.

At first the boy was unable to speak.

‘For whom are you looking?’’ inquired the woman in
Spanish.

‘‘ For the engineer Mequinez,’’ said Marco.

The woman crossed her arms on her breast and answered,
nodding her head, ‘‘ You are also one of those who are after
the engineer Mequinez! It seems to me that it must be about
time for this thing to stop. ‘They have bothered me now for
more than three months. Is it not enough that it was pub-
lished in the newspapers? It will be necessary to have it posted
cn the corners of the streets that the Senor Mequinez has gone
to live in Tucuman!’’

The boy made a gesture as though he were in desperation;
then, breaking into a wild rage, he said: ‘It is a curse!
I shall have to die on my way without being able to find
my mother! Iam going crazy; I will kill myself! My God!
What did you call that place? Whereis it? How far from
here? ”’ ;

“Eh, poor lad,’’ cried the old woman, moved to pity, ‘It
is not a trifle. It must be four or five hundred miles, at the
least.’’

The boy covered his face with both hands, and then asked,
sobbing, ‘‘And now——what can I do?”

“What can I tell you, poor child?” answered the woman.
“T do not know.” __

Suddenly, however, a thought flashed through her mind,
and she hurriedly suggested: ‘‘Hear me, now I think of it.
Turn to the right and you will find at the third door a coutt-
yard. There isa capataz, a merchant, who leaves to-morrow
morning for Tucuman with his carretas and hisoxen. Go
and see if he feels like taking you along. Offer him your
services; probably he will make a place for you on one of his
wagons ”’
THE HEART OF A BOY 233

The boy thanked the woman, ran away, and two minutes
after he was in a vast court-yard, lighted by a lantern, where
several men were about to load bags of wheat upon some very
large wagons, similar to the movable houses of the mounte-
banks, with a round roof and very high wheels, while a tall
nian with a long mustache, wrapped in a sort of mantle of
black and white plaid, wearing high top boots, was directing
the work. ‘The boy approached the latter, and expressed his
wish, saying that he had come from Italy and that he was
searching for his mother.

The capataz (the head conductor of that convoy of wagons)
cast a glance at him from head to foot, and said drily, ‘‘I have
no room.’’

‘T have fifteen lire,’’ said the boy in a beseeching manner;

‘I will give them all to you. And I am willing to work on
the way. I will go and haul water for the oxen; I will do any-
thing. A little bread is enough forme. Do grant mea little
place, signore!”’

The capataz looked at him again and answered, in a milder
tone: ‘There is no room and besides we are not going
to Tucuman; we are going to another city, Santiago dell
’Estero. At acertain place we should have to drop you and
you would have a long distance to go on foot.”

“‘T am ready to walk double the distance!’’ exclaimed
Marco; ‘‘I am ready to walk, do not worry about that; I will
go, no matter how: do make a little room for me, signore, for
heaven’s sake; do not leave me here alone! ’”’

“Think of it; it is a long trip of twenty days.’

“Tt does not matter.”

“Tt is an uncomfortable trip
“TY will endure it all.’’

** Vou will have to travel alone.’’

‘I fear nothing; if only I can find my mother again. Have
pity upon me! ”’





1

‘
234 THE HEART OF A BOY

The capataz put a lantern up to his face and scrutinized him;
then he said: ‘‘ Well, you may go!”

The boy kissed his hand.

‘*For to-night, you may sleep on a wagon,”’ said the cap- °
ataz, leaving him there. ‘‘I will wake you to-morrow morning
at four o’clock. Buenas noches!”’

The next morning at four, while it was still starlight, the
long row of wagons started out with a great deal of noise, each
wagon being drawn by six oxen, followed by a large number
of animals for relays. The boy awoke and they put him in-
side one of the wagons, and he immediately fell into a pro-
found sleep. When he awoke, the convoy had stopped in a
solitary spot. All the men — the peones—were sitting in a |
circle around a quarter of a calf, which was roasting over a
large fire in the open air, stuck upon an iron spear planted
firmly in the ground. ‘They all ate together, slept awhile
and started out again. The journey continued, regulated
like a march of soldiers. Every morning they would set
out at five and halt at nine; they would leave again at five in
the evening, halting again at ten. "The peones were riding
on horseback, stimulating the oxen with long poles. ‘The lad
would light the fire for the roast, feed the animals, clean the
lanterns, and carry the water for the men to drink. The coun-
try passed before him like an indistinct vision. ‘There were
vast woods of small dark trees; villages containing but a few
houses scattered around, with red facades and battlements.
He gazed over extensive spaces, perhaps the ancient beds of
rivers or large salt lakes, glimmering with salt as far as the
eye could reach; and continually, on every side, a plain, a soli-
tude, a silence.

At rare intervals, they would meet two or three travelers on
horseback, followed by a herd of horses, galloping like a whirl-
wind. The days were all alike as they had been at sea, tire-
some and endless. However, the weather was beautiful, but
the pcones were becoming more and more exacting every day,
9

THE HEART OF A BOY 235

and they treated the boy as though he were their bounden
servant; some of them even threatened him and abused him
brutally; some forced him to serve them without mercy, mak-
ing him carry great loads of forage, and sending him long
distances for water; and the poor boy, worn out with fatigue,
could not even sleep at night, constantly shaken by the violent
jolts of the wagon, and disturbed by the deafening noise of
the wheels and wooden axles. In addition to this, the wind
had risen and a thin, reddish, greasy dirt enveloped everything,
penetrating into the wagons and making its way through his
clothes. It filled his eyes and mouth (depriving him of his
eyesight and making it difficult for him to breathe), in a per-
sistent and unbearable manner. Exhausted by fatigue and loss
of sleep, ragged and dirty, reproved and maltreated from morn-
ing until night, the poor lad became more and more dejected-as
the days passed. He would have lost his wits entirely if the
capataz had not once in awhile spoken a kind word to him.
Oftentimes, when in a corner of the wagon, unseen, he would
cry, hiding his face inside of his bag which now contained only a
fewrags. Every morning he got up, more feeble and more dis-
couraged, and looked at the country, always seeing that same
boundless and unchanging plain like an ocean of sand, and he
would say: . ‘‘Oh, I cannot endure this until night! To-day I
will die on the way !’’ His fatigue was growing and the mal-
treatment increased. One morning he was slow in carrying
the water, and in the absence of the capataz one of the men
beat him. After this example, they began to beat him habit-
ually; when they were giving him an order they would give
‘ him a blow, saying: ‘‘ Take that, vagabond! ‘Take that to
your mother!’’ His heart was almost broken. He fell sick
and remained for three days upon the wagon, with a cover over
him, shaking with fever and seeing no one but the capataz
who came now and then to offer him a drink and to feel his
pulse. He thought himself lost and -was invoking his mother
desperately, calling her by name a hundred times. ‘' Oh,-my
236 THE HEART OF A BOY

mother! Helpme! Come and meet me, I am dying! Oh,
poor mother, I will never see you again! Poor mother, you will
find me dead on the way!” And he folded his hands upon his
breast and prayed. Then he began to recover, owing to the care of
the capataz. He regained his health; but with the return of
his health came the most terrible day of his.journey, the day
in which he had to be left alone. ‘They had been on the way
for more than two weeks, when they came to the place where
the road to Ttcuman parted from the one which leads to San-
tiago dell’ Estero. The capataz told him they were about to
separate. He furnished him with some information concerning
the road, tied the bag upon his shoulders in such a way that
it would not annoy himin walking, and saying little to him, as
if he feared to show emotion, he bade him good bye. The lad
had barely time to kiss his hand. ‘The other men who had
treated him so harshly also seemed to feel a little pity at seeing
him left alone, and made him signs of farewell as they moved
away. He returned the salute with his hand and stood looking
at the convoy until it was lost in the reddish dust of the coun-
try, and then sadly started out on his way.

Something, however, comforted him a little from the begin-
ning. After all those days of travel across the boundless plain
having all the time the same aspect, he saw in front of hima
chain of very high azure mountains, with white tops, which
recalled to his mind the Alps and which made him feel as
though he were approaching his own country. It was the
Andes, the dorsal spine of the American Continent, that
immense chain which extends from Terra del Fuego to the
glacial sea of the Arctic Pole, through one hundred and ten
degrees of latitude. He was also comforted by feeling that the
air was all the time growing warmer, and this happened
because he was going to the north and nearing the tropical
regions. At great distances from each other, he passed by
small groups of houses with a little shop where he would buy
something to eat He met men on horseback; from time to












f1e stood looking at the convoy ustil it vanished,
THE HEART OF A BOY 237

time, he saw women and boys sitting motionless on the ground
with grave faces, entirely new to him, of an earthen color,
with oblique eyes and prominent cheek bones. ‘They looked
at him fixedly and followed him with their eyes, turning thei
heads like automatons. ‘They were Indians.

During the first day, he walked as far as his strength would
permit and slept under a tree. The second day, he walked
less and with less spirit. ‘Towards evening, he began to be
afraid. He had heard in Italy that there were serpents in these
countries. He would stop, thinking he heard them crawling,
and then he would start on a run and a cold chill would creep
overhim. A great compassion for himself would overtake him
at times, and he cried silently, all the time walking on. ‘Then
he thought: ‘‘How my mother would suffer if she knew that I
am so frightened,” and the thought of that would give him
courage, In order to distract his thoughts and forget his fear,
he would think of many things concerning his mother. He
recalled her words when she left Genoa, and the gesture with
which she was accustomed to arrange the blankets under his
chin when he was in bed. When he was a little child, she
would take him in her arms saying: ‘“‘Stay with me fora
moment,’’ and he would stay that way for.a long time, with
his head leaning upon her, thinking and thinking. He was
saying to himself: ‘‘Will I ever see you again, dear mother?
Will I ever reach the end of my journey, mother?’’ And he
walked on and on amidst unknown trees and vast plantations
of sugar-cane, and over immense prairies, with those azure
mountains, which pierced the serene sky with their peaks,
always before him.

Four days five thenaweek passed. His strength
was gradually decreasing, hisfeet were bleeding. Finally, one
evening towards sunset, some one told him: ‘’Tucuman is ponly
five miles from here.”’

He uttered a cry of joy and hastened his step as though he
had suddenly regained his lost vigor, but it was a brief respite.




238 THE HEART OF A BOY

His strength suddenly failed him, and worn out he fell upon
the brink of the ditch. However, his heart was beating with
happiness. The sky above, thick with shining stars, had never
seemed so beautiful to him. He contemplated the firmament
while lying on the grass trying to sleep, and thought perhaps
his mother was looking at him. He exclaimed: ‘‘Oh, my
mother, where are you? What are you doing at this moment ?
Do you think of your child? Do you think of your Marco, who
is so near you?’’

Poor Marco, if hé could have seen in what a state his mother
was at that minute, he would have made a superhuman effort,
to go ahead and reach her at the earliest possible moment. Shé
was sick in bed in a room on the ground floor of a lordly house
where lived the Mequinez family, who had grown very fond of
her, and who were bestowing upon her every attention. ‘The
poor woman was sickly when the engineer Mequinez had sud-
denly been obliged .to leave Buenos Ayres and she had not
entirely recovered with the good air of Cordova. In addition
to this, the fact of not receiving any answer to her letters either
from her husband or from their cousin; the vivid, growing pre-
sentiment ofa great calamity, and the continual anxiety in which
she had lived, not knowing whether to leave or to remain, ex-
pecting every day some bad news, had caused her to grow worse.
At last, a very grave illness had manifested itself, an internal
lesion. She had not left her bed for the last fifteen days. A
surgical operation was necessary to save her life. Just at that
moment when Marco was invoking her, the master and
mistress of the house stood at her beside, trying with much
kindness to persuade her to aliow the operation to be per-
formed, while she, weeping, persisted in her refusal. A good
surgeon from Tucuman had come the previous week, but in
vain.

““No, dear masters,’? she exclaimed, ‘“‘it is not worth
whiie; I no longer have the strength to endure it; I would die
under the knife of the surgeon. It is better that you let me
































They were Indians.
THE HEART OF A BOY 239

die now. I donot care to live any longer. Everything has
come to an end with me. It is better that I should die before
I know what great misfortune has happened to my family.”

But the master was telling her that it must not be so, that she
should take courage, that she would soon receive an answer to
the last letter which had been sent direct to Genoa if she would
only allow the operation to be performed; she ought to do it for
the sake of her children!

The suggestion of her children did nothing but aggravate
her anguish and the profound discouragement which had pros-
trated her for a long time. Hearing those words she burst into
tears:

‘Oh, my poor children! My poor children!’’ she ex-
claimed, clasping her hands, ‘‘ perhaps they are no longer
alive! Itis better that I should die, too. I thank you, my
dear masters, I thank you with all my heart. But it is better
that I should die. I know I would not recover even after the
operation had been performed; I.am certain of it. Thanks for
all the cares that you have bestowed upon me, my kind mas-
ters. It is useless for the surgeon to come back to-morrow; I
wish to die. Itis my destiny that I should die here. I have
decided.” : :

They still tried to console her, and said: ‘‘ No, do not say
so,’? and would take her by the hands and beg of her. But
she closed her eyes, worn out with exhaustion, and fell into a
sort of a trance which made her look as if she were dead. Both
the master and mistress remained there a short time, and by
the dim light of a small lamp they gazed with great compas-
sion upon that admirable mother, who, in order to save her
family, had come to die seven thousand miles from her native
country; to die after having suffered so much; poor woman,
so honest, so good, but so unhappy.

Early in the morning of the next day, with his bag on his
- shoulder, bent and limping, but full of spirit, Marco entered
the city of Tucuman, one of the youngest and most flourishing
240 THE HEART OF A BOY

cities of the Argentine Republic. It seemed to him that he
again beheld Cordova, Rosario and Buenos Ayres. ‘There were
the same long, endless, straight streets, with those low, white
houses; but on every side there was a young and luxuriant
vegetation, a perfumed. air, a marvelous light, a limpid and
profound sky, such as he had seen in Italy. As he was going
through the streets, that feverish agitation, which had over-
taken him at Buenos Ayres, again took possession of him; he
looked at the windows and the doors of the houses, gazed at
the women who were passing, with the anxious hope of meet-
ing his mother. He felt like questioning every one, but did
not dare to stop anybody. From the doors of the houses, the
people would turn to look at that poor, ragged and dusty boy,
whose appearance showed that he had come froma great dis-
tance. He looked among the people for a face that would in-
spire him with confidence enough to ask that tremendous
question, when his eyes fell upon the sign of a store, upon
which he read an Italian name. He saw a man and two wo-
men inside. He slowly approached and summoning a resolute
courage and calmness said: ‘‘ Will you teli me, sir, where the
family of Mequinez lives?”’

‘The cngeniero Mequinez?’’ asked the shopkeeper in his
turn. ; j

‘The engineer Mequinez,’’ replied the boy in a despairing
voice. a

‘The Mequinez family,’
Tucuman.”’

A desperate outburst of pain, like that of a person who has
been stabbed, rang as the echo of those words.

The shop-keeper and the women arose, and some of the
neighbors ran to him. ‘‘ What is the matter, boy,’”’ said the
shop-keeper, drawing him inside of the store and putting him
on a chair. ‘‘ There is no use despairing. ‘The Mequinez
family is not here, but at a short distance, only a few hours’
walk from ‘Tucuman.”

,

said the: shopkeeper, ‘‘is not in


Worn out, the bay fell on the wayside
THE HEART OF A BOY 241

Whereabouts? . Whereabouts? ”’ cried Marco, springing
up as if restored to life again.

“About fifteen miles from here,’’ pursued the man, ‘‘ on the
shore of the Saladillo river, in a place where they are building
a large sugar factory, a cluster of houses, one of which is the
home of signor Mequinez. Everybody knows it, and you can
reach there in a few hours.’’

“‘I was there a month ago,’’ said a young man who had
run forward at that cry.

Marco looked at him with wide open eyes, and, growing
pale, he impatiently asked, ‘‘ Have you seen the woman in
the service of signor Mequinez—the Italian woman?’’

‘“The Genovesa? Yes; I have seen her.”

Marco burst into convulsive sobbing, half laughing, half
crying.

Then with a sudden resolution he impetuously asked:
‘“Which way must I go? Quick; show me the way, and I will
leave at once.’’

“But it is a day’s walk,” they all said together. ‘‘ You
are tired; you must rest; you can start in the morning.

“‘Impossible! Impossible!’’ cried the boy. ‘Tell me
which way to go. I cannot wait a moment, I want to go at
once, even if I have to die on the way.’’

Seeing how inflexible he was, they opposed him no longer.
‘*May God be with you,’’ they said. ‘‘ Look out on your
way through the forest.’’ ‘‘ Pleasant trip to you, Italianito.’’

The man escorted him outside the door and showed him
\the way, giving him some instructions about the road, and
waiting to see him go. After a few minutes the boy disap-
peared behind the thick trees which lined the road.

That very night was a terrible one for the poor sick woman
who suffered excruciating pains which wrung shrieks from
her almost enough to burst her veins, and rendered her
delirious at times. ‘The women who waited upon her were ata
loss. ‘The mistress ran in from time to time affrighted. They’
242 THE HEART OF A BOY

all commenced to fear that even if the operation were decided
upon, the physician who would have to come the day after
would arrive too late. In the intervals in which she was
not delirious one could see that she suffered more terrible tor-
ture from the thought of her distant family than from her
bodily pains. With an agonized look on her distorted face,
she would thrust her hands into her hair in a desperate gest-
ure, which was heart-rending, and cry:

‘Oh, my God! My God! ‘To die and so faraway! ‘To
die without seeing them again! My poor children who will be
without a mother, my young creatures, thy dearest ones! My
little Marco, who is still so small, only tall as this, and so affec-
tionate! You do not know what kind of a boy he was! Oh,
my mistress, if you only knew! I could scarcely tear him away
from my neck when I departed, he sobbed enough to move any
one to pity; it seemed as though he apprehended that he would
never see his mother again! My poor Marco! My poor child
I thought my heart would burst! Ah, if I had only died then,
when he was bidding me farewell. It would have been far better
if I had dropped dead then! Without a mother, poor child, he
who loved me so much, who wanted me so badly, without a
mother, reduced to misery, he will have to go and beg, he, my
Marco, to be obliged to stretch out his hand in hunger. Oh!
Eternal God! No, I do not wish to die! Call the doctor!
Call him at once! Let him come! Tet him cleave my breast!
Let him drive me mad, only let my life be saved! I wish to
recover, I wish to live, I want to go away to-morrow, at once.
The doctor! Help! Help!’’—The women around her seized
her by the hands, caressingly and begging her to calm herself,
speaking to her of God and of hope. ‘Then she would fall
back in a mortal dejection, weeping, with her hands on her
grey hair, moaning like a child, uttering deep lamentations,
and murmuring from time to time: ‘‘Oh! my Genoa! My
home! All that sea! Oh! my Marco, » UY poor Marco! Where
is he now, that poor child of mine?’


THE HEART OF A BOY 245

It was midnight, and poor Marco, exhausted with fatigue,
having spent many hours upon the bank of a stream, was then
walking through a vast forest of gigantic trees, monsters of
vegetation, whose huge trunks, similar to the pillars of a cathe-
dral, interlaced their enormous silvery branches at a lofty height
under the light of the moon. ‘Through that semi-obscurity, he
dimly perceived myriads of trunks of all shapes, upright, in-
clined, contorted, crossing each other in strange positions of
menace, and some of them overthrown on the ground like
towers that had fallen down a long time ago, covered with a
thick and confused mass of vegetation which looked like a
throng of people who were disputing, inch by inch, the pos-
session of the forest. Others collected in groups stood verti-
cally bound together like trophies of Titanic lances, whose tops
touched the clouds; a superb grandeur, a prodigious disorder
of colossal forms, the most majestic, terrible spectacle that
vegetation had ever offered to him. At times a great stupor
overtook him. But at once his soul took flight toward his
mother. He was totally worn out. His feet were bleeding.
He was alone in the midst of that formidable forest, where he
only saw at long intervals some small human dwellings, which |
looked like ant hills in comparison with those enormous trees.
He passed some sleeping buffaloes by the side of the road.
He was tired out, but did not feel his weariness; he was alone,
but did not feel afraid. The grandeur of the forest enlarged
his soul. ‘The nearness of his mother infused in him the
strength and boldness of a man; the remembrance of the ocean,
of the sufferings, of the struggles which he had undergone, all
the fatigues he had endured, the iron constancy which he had
displayed, caused him to uplift his head. All the strong
and noble Genoese blood flowed back to his heart like a
warm tide of joy and audacity. A new feeling arose in his
mind. Up to that time he had borne in his brain a dark and
faded image of his mother, dimmed by the two years of separa-
ticn, but in this moment her image grew clear; he saw her
244. THE HEART OF A BOY ‘

wholesome and open face as he had not seen it for a long time.
He saw her near him, illuminated and speaking; he saw again
the most fleeting motions of her eyes and of her lips, all her
attitudes, all her gestures, the very shadow of her thoughts; and,
urged on by these remembrances, he hastened his step, while
a new affection and an indescribable tenderness was becoming
stronger and stronger in his heart, causing some sweet and
quiet tears to flow down his cheeks. Going along in the dark-
ness, it seemed that he spoke to her, that he whispered words
to her, that he would murmur in her ear, beforelong: .‘‘I am
here, mother; here I am; I will never leave you again; we
shall return home together; I shall always be near you upon
the boat, close beside you, and no one shall ever take me from
you, nevermore, till you shall leave this world!’’? And he did
not perceive that from the tops of the gigantic trees, the silvery
Aight of the moon was dying ott in the delicate whiteness of the
dawn.

At eight o’clock on that same morning, the physician of
Tucuman, a young Argentine gentleman, was already at the
bedside of the poor sick woman, accompanied ‘by the surgeon,
trying for the last time to persuade her to allow the operation
to be performed, and the engineer Mequinez and his wife were
adding their persuasions to that-of the others. But it was all
in vain. ‘The woman, feeling that she was exhausted, had no
longer any confidence in the operation; she was certain that
she would either-die under it or would only survive half an
hour after suffering more terrible pains than those which would
naturally kill her. The physician was repeating that the op-
eration was a sure one, that her safety was certain if she would
only exercise a little courage, and he added that her death was
equally certain if she refused. These were words thrown to the
winds. ‘‘ No,’’ she answered ina faint voice. ‘‘I still have
courage to die, but I have none left to suffer uselessly; thanks,
floctor! It is my destiny! Let me die quietly.”

The doctor discouraged, desisted. No one dared to speak
THE HEART OF A BOY 245

again. Then the woman turned her head toward her mistress,
and, with a dying voice, made her last request. ‘‘ My good
mistress,’’ she said, sobbing and speaking with great effort,
“you will send the little money. that I have and my poor
effects to my family through the Consul. I hope that they are
all alive. My heart presages me good in this last moment.
You will do me the favor to write that I have always thought
of them; that I have always worked for them, for my children;
that my only sorrow is never to see them again; but that I
died with courage, resigned, and blessing them—my husband,
my eldest son, and my poor Marco, whom I have borne in my
heart up to this last moment » Becoming suddenly ex-
cited, she cried, clasping her hands: ‘‘ My Marco, my little
child' My life!’’—and raising her eyes filled with tears she
perceived that her mistress was no longer beside her; they had
secretly called her away. She looked for the master; he had
also disappeared. No one but the two nurses and the surgeon
were in the room.

She could hear in the adjoining room a great noise of steps,
'amurmur of hasty and subdued voices and repressed exclama-
tions. The sick woman fixed her eyes upon the door and
waited. After a few minutes, the physician appeared with an
unusual expression upon his countenance; then her master and
mistress, each with an altered face, entered the room. ‘The
three persons looked at her with a singular expression, and
exchanged a few wordsin alowtone. It seemed to her that the
physician said to the mistress: ‘‘ It would be better at once!”

- “ Tosefa,’”’ said the mistress with a trembling voice, ‘‘I have
some good news for you. Prepare your heart for good news.”

The woman looked at her attentively.

‘‘ News,”’ continued the lady, growing more agitated, ‘‘ that
wiil cause you great joy.”

The sick woman’s eyes dilated,

‘‘ Prepare yourself,’’ purstied the mistress, ‘‘ to see a person
to whom you are very much. attached.’’:


246 THE HEART OF A BOY

The woman raised her head with a start and rapidly began
to observe alternately her mistress and the door, with flashing
eyes.

The mistress, growing pale, added, ‘‘ A person has just
arrived unexpected to you.”’

“Who is it?’’ cried the woman in a strange, choking voice
like that of a frightened person.

A moment later she
gave vent toa shrill
scream, and, raising
herself to a sitting
posture on the bed,
remained motionless,
with her eyes staring,
and her hands on her
temples as though
- confronted by a su-
perhuman apparition.

Marco, dirty and
tattered, was stand-
ing there on the
threshold of the door,
held back by the doc-
tor’s arm.

The woman cried:
‘*My God! My God!
My God!”’

Marco ran forward,
she raised her flesh-
less arms, and pressing him to her heart with the strength of a
tiger, burst into a violent laugh broken by deep sobs, without.
shedding any tears. Then she fell back suffocating on her
piliow. Ae

_ But she soon recovered, and, crazy with joy, covering the
head of her boy with kisses, crying: ‘‘ How is it that you are


THE HEART OF A BOY 247

here?—How is it possible?—Is it you?—How you have
grown !—Who brought you here ?—Are you alone ?—Are you
not ill?—Is it you, Marco?—This is not a dream is it, great
God ?—Speak tome.”

Then suddenly changing her manner, she said: ‘No!
Be silent! ‘Wait !’’—And, turning hastily to the surgeon:
‘Quick, quick, doctor. I wish to recover. I am ready. Do
not lose a moment. Take Marco away so that he cannot
hear.—My Marco, it is nothing; I will tell you everything.—
Another kiss, go.—I am ready for you, doctor.”’

They took Marco away. ‘The master and mistress and the
women quietly left the room, only the doctor and the surgeon
remained. ‘They closed the door.

Signor Mequinez tried to draw Marco into a distant room,
but it was impossible; he seemed rooted to the floor.

“What isthe matter?’’ he asked. ‘‘ What is the matter
with my mother? What are they doing with her?’’

And then Mequinez said softly, trying to pull him away
‘Listen, I will tell you; your mother is ill; it is necessary to
perform a simple operation; I will explain everything to you;
come with me.’’

““No,’”’ replied the boy resisting, ‘‘I wish to stay here;
explain it to me here.”’

The engineer heaped words upon words, trying to pull him
away. ‘The lad began to get frightened and trembled.

Suddenly a sharp and shrill scream, like the cry of a person
hurt to death, resounded through the whole house.

The lad answered with another desperate cry, saying,
‘“ My mother is dead !”’

The doctor came to the door and said, ‘‘ Your mother is
saved !’’

The boy looked at hiin for a moment and then threw himself
at his feet, and sobbing exclaimed: ‘‘’T‘hanks, doctor, thanks!’

But the doctor lifted him up saying: ‘‘Get up, stand up!
You are an heroicchild. You have saved your mother’s life !”
248 THE HEART OF A BOY

SUMMER
Wednesday the 24th.

he Genoese boy Marco is the next to the last little hero
with whom we will form an acquaintance this year. Only one
remains for the month of June. There are only two more
monthly examinations, twenty-six school days, six Thursdays,
and five Sundays. One already feels the end of the year
approaching. ‘The pupils are already dressed in their summer
clothes. It is a fine sight to see them as they come out of the
school room. ‘They look so different from what they did last
month; the curls which touched their shoulders have been cut
off; all the heads are shorn; and we can see the bare calves of
the boys, and their bare necks. Straw hats of every shape
with ribbons which fall down upon the back; blouses and
neckties of all colors. ‘The smallest ones all wear red or blue,
a border sewed on, or a tassel, something of a bright color,
put on by their mothers, no matter how, in order to make them
showy, even among the poorest of them. Many come to school
without a hat, as if they had run away from home. Some
wear their white gymnastic suits. There is a boy in Mistress
Deleati’s room who is dressed in red from head to foot, like a
lobster. Some wear sailor suits; but the handsomest of all is
the Little Mason, who now wears a large straw hat which
makes him look like a small candle with a shade over it. It is
very laughable to see him make the hare face beneath it.

Coretti has put aside his cat-skin cap and wears an old grey
silk traveling cap. Votini has a sort of a Scotch suit, close
fitting; Crossi displays his bare breast; Precossi is lost inside
of the blue blouse of the blacksmith. And Garoffi?—Now
that he has been obliged to lay aside his cloak which hid all his
wares, all his pockets remain visible, filled with every kind
of bric-a-brac, which forces itself out with the lottery lists.
Every one knows what he carries; fans made of half a news-
THE HEART OF A BOY 249

paper, knobs of canes, and arrows to throw at birds, and some
May bugs, that crawl out of his pockets and go slowly over
his jacket. Sekt

Many of the little ones carry bouquets to the teachers.
The teachers are also dressed in summer attire of bright
colors, except the “ Little Nun’’ who is always dressed in
black, and the teacher with the red feather who still wears her
red feather and a knot of red ribbon on her neck. ‘The ribbonis
all tumbled by the hands of the pupils, who always make her
laugh and then they run away. It is the season of cher-_
ries, of butterflies, of open air music on the avenue, of excur-
sions into the country. Some of the Fourth Elementary boys
already run away to bathe in the River Po. Every boy has
his heart set upon vacation time; every day we come out of
school more impatient and happier than the day before. The
only thing which pains me is to see Garrone dressed in mourn-
ing and to notice that my poor teacher of the first upper is
whiter and more emaciated than ever, her cough growing worse
and worse. She walks bent over and salutes me in a very sad
way.

POETRY
friday the 26th.

Thou dost begin to understand the poetry of school, Enrico, but
for the present thou only seest the inside of it. It will appear to
thee more beautiful and more poetic in thirty years from now,
when thou wilt come here to accompany thy children and behold it
from the outside, as [do now. At the close L stroll through the
silent streets around the building, and listen at the windows of the
ground floor, close by the window blinds. Through one of the win-
dows L hear the voice of a mistress who says: “Ah, that bar on the
‘t,’ that zs not right, my child, what would your father say??? At
another window near, I hear the full voice of the master, who ts
sioculy dictating : *‘ 1 will buy fifty meters of doth for four and
250 THE HEART OF A BOY



one-half lire ameter. You will sell these .? Further ahead
at ts the voice of the mistress with the red feather, who reads in a
éoud voice: ‘At that moment Pietro Micca, with a lighted fuse—”
from a neighboring class comes a sound like the sharp twittering
of a hundred birds, which means that the teacher has left the room
for a moment. I move ahead, and at the corner I hear a pupil
crying and the voice of the mistress who reproves and consoles him.
From other windows tssue verses, the names of great men, frag-
ments of sentences which advise virtue, love of country and cour-
age. A few moments’ silence ensue, during which one would
think that the building ts empty, and it does not seem possible that
there are seven hundred boys inside; then one hears hilarious out
bursts, provoked by the jest of a teacher in good humor and
the people passing by stop to listen. They all cast a look of sym-
bathy at that kind building which contains so much youthful vigor
and so many hopes. Then one hears a sudden deafening sound
and capping of books and satchels, a rustling of feet, a sort of
buzzing which spreads from class to class, from the top to the bot
tom, like the sudden diffusing of good news; the janitor is
making his rounds to announce that the session is over. At that
noise, a crowd of men, women, girls and youths are rushing here
and there in front of the door, awaiting, some their brothers, some
their nephews, while from the doors of the class rooms come forth,
as if poured out into the large hall, the smallest children to take
their little cloaks and hats, creating a confusion upon the floor,
dancing all around till the janitor drives them out, one by one;
jinally, they leave in long rows, stamping their feet. Then all the
relatives begin a shower of questions: “‘ Did you know your les-
son? How much work has he given you? What do you have
for to-morrow? When will the monthly examination take
place?” Even the poor who do not know how to read open the
books, look at the problems and ask how many points their children
had... ‘‘ Only eight?’ “Commendation and ten points???
“Mine on the lesson?” And they grow angry or rejoice, and’
question the teachers in regard to the prospects of the examination.


THE HEART OF A BOY 251

How beautiful it all is!’ How great, and what a noble prom-
ase for the world f
Thy Father.

THE DEAF AND DUMB GIRL
Sunday the 28th.

The best way to finish the month of May was with that

visit which I made this morning. We were about to go out

when the bell rang, and we all went to see who it was. I
heard my father exclaim in astonishment:

“You here, Giorgio?’’ It was Giorgio, our gardener of
Chieri, whose family is now at Condove.

He had just come from Genoa, where he had landed the day
before upon his return from Greece, after having worked there
for three years on a railroad. He looks a little older than
when I saw him last, but has a rosy and jovial face.

My father wished him to come in but he refused to do so;
and becoming very serious, inquired at once: ‘‘ How is my
family? How is my Gigia?’’

“She was well a few days ago,’’ answered my mother.

Giorgio drew a deep sigh and said: ‘‘ Let the Lord be
praised! I did not have the courage to present myself at the
Deaf and Dumb Asylum without first hearing something about
her. I beg permission to leave my valise here and hasten to go
after her. Itis three years since I have seen her, my poor
daughter! ‘Three years since I have seen any of my people! ”’

My father told me to accompany him.

‘“ Another word, please,’’ said the gardener upon the land-
_ing. But my father interrupted him: ‘‘ And how is it about
your business? ’’ ;

“Quite good,’’ he replied, ‘‘thanks to God. I have
brought home a few soldi. But I was about to inquire how
the education of the little deaf and dumb one is progressing;
tell me a little about it. When I left her she was like a little
252 THE HEART OF A BOY

animal, poor creature. Ido not put much confidence in those
institutions. Has she learned to make signs? My wife wrote
me that she learns to speak and is making progress? But
I was saying to myself: ‘What does it matter if she does
learn to speak if I do not know how to make the signs? How
can we understand each other, poor child! It is all right
enough for the deaf and dumb to understand each other, one
unfortunate with another unfortunate. How then is she get-
ting along? How is she?’’

My father smiled and replied: ‘‘I will not tell you any-
thing; you will see for yourself; go, go; and do not rob her of
one minute more of your presence.’’

We left the house. The asylum is quite near. On the
way, walking with long strides, the gardener was talking to me
and all the time growing sadder. ‘‘Oh, my poor Gigia, to be
born with that misfortune! ‘To thiuk that I have never heard
her ‘call me /ather and she’ has never heard herself called
daughter by me, and that she has never heard or spoken a word
in this world! It is fortunate that we found a charitable gen-
tleman to pay her expenses at the asylum. But she could not
go there before she was eight years old. She has been away
from home for three years now. She is fully eleven. Has she
grown, tell me, has she grown much? Isshe in good spirits?”

‘“You will soon see,’’ I said to him, hastening my steps.

‘But where is this building?’’ he asked. ‘‘ My wife took
her to that place after I had gone away. It seems to me it
must be in this direction.”

We had just arrived. We immediately entered the parlor
and one of the janitors came to meet us.

‘Tam the father of Gigia Voggi,” said the gardener; ‘‘send
for my daughter instantly.’’

“They are having their recreation,’ replied the janitor,
‘“T will go and notify the teacher,’ and he went away.

The gardener was no longer able to speak or keep still, and
he was looking at the pictures on the wall without seeing any-
THE HEART OF A BOY 253

anything. ‘The door opened and the teacher, dressed in black,
entered, holding a girl by the hand.

Father and daughter looked at each other a moment, and
then they fell into each other’s arms, uttering a cry.

The girl was dressed in a striped reddish cloth gown and a
white apron. She is taller than Iam. She wept and pressed
her father’s neck with both arms.

Her father disengaged himself and began to look at her
from head to foot with tears in his eyes; and, panting as though
he had been running a distance, he exclaimed: ‘‘ How she has
grown! How handsome she has become! Oh, my dear, my
poor Gigia! My poor deaf and dumb girl! And you, Signora
mistress? ‘Tell her to make some signs for me that I may see
if I can understand, and then after awhile I will also learn.
Tell her to make me understand something by gestures.” _

The teacher smiled and said in a low voice to the girl, ‘‘who
is this man who has come to see you?’

And the girl with a thick, strange, dissonant voice like that
of a savage who speaks our language for the first time, but pro-
nouncing distinctly and smiling all the time — “‘ It is my
fa-ther.”

The gardener fell back and uttered acry like a lunatic: ‘“‘She
speaks! But is it possible! How can it be! She speaks!
You speak, my child! Do tell me, do you really speak ?’? and
he embraced and kissed her on the forehead three times. “‘ But
is it not with signs that they speak, signora teacher? Is it
not with the fingers like this?”

““No,” replied the mistress, ‘‘it is not with gestures. That
was the old method; here they use the new method, the oral.
How is it that you do not know it?”

““I knew nothing about it,’’ replied the gardener, amazed.
““T have been away for three years. Perhaps they have writ-
ten it to me but I have not understood it: I am a sort of a
blockhead. Oh, my little girl, you understand me then? You
hear my voice? Answer, do you hear? Do you hear what I say?’


254 . ‘THE HEART OF A BOY.

“*No, my good man,” replied the mistress, ‘‘ she carnot
hear your voice because she is deaf; she understands from the
movements of your lips what you are saying, but she does not
hear your words, and not even those which she speaks to you;
she pronounces them because we have taught her letter by let-
ter how to place the lips and move the tongue, and what an
effort she must make with her chest and throat to throw out
the voice.”

The gardener did not understand, and stood with his moutl
wide open; he did not believe it possible.

“Tell me, Gigia,’’ he said to the daughter, speaking in
her ear, ‘are you glad your father has returned?’ and raising
his head he waited for the answer.

The girl looked at him thoughtfully but said nothing.

Her father was perturbed.

The mistress laughed. Then she said: ‘‘My good man,
she does not answer you because she has not seen the move-
ment of your lips—you have spoken in her ear. Repeat the
question, keeping your face in front of hers.’’

Looking sharply in her face, her father repeated: ‘‘Are
you glad that your father has returned? ‘That he will never
go away again?’’

The girl who had looked attentively at his lips, trying to
see inside of his mouth, at once replied: ‘‘ Ves, I am gla-d
that you have re-turn-ed, that you will not go away again.”

The father embraced her impetuously, and then in great
haste, in order to assure himself still further, he overwhelmed
her with questions.

‘‘ What is mamma’s name?”’

*‘An-tonia.”’

‘* What do you call your little sister? *?

‘*A-de-laide.”’

‘* What is the name of this asylum?”

*“The Deaf and Dumb.”

‘** How much is two times ten?”?
THE HEART OF A BOY 255

“Twenty.”

We thought that he was laughing for joy, but all of a
sudden he began to weep. That wasalso on account of his joy.

“Have courage,’’ said the mistress, ‘‘ you have reason to
rejoice and not to weep. Do you see, you will make your
daughter cry also. Be cheerful.’ ‘The gardener grasped the
teacher's hand and kissed it two or three times, saying :
‘*Thanks, thanks, a hundred times thanks. Thanks a thousand
times, my dear signora mistress! And do forgive me that I
do not know how to express myself better !”’

‘“ She not only knows how to speak, but she can write also.
She knows how to calculate. She knows the name of all the
ordinary objects. She knows a little history and has some
knowledge of geography. She now belongs to the normal
class; when she has gone through two more classes she will
know a great deal more. When she leaves this place she will
be in a condition to take up some profession. We have some
of our deaf and dumb in stores, waiting upon customers, and
who know how to do business like other people.”

The gardener was again astonished. He acted as though
his ideas were again becoming confused; he looked at his
daughter and rubbed his forehead. His face showed that he
wished to ask another question.

Then the mistress turned to the janitor and told him to call
a girl from the preparatory class.

The janitor came back in a short time with a deaf and
dumb girl about eight or nine years old, who had entered the
asylum a few days before.

‘This girl,” said the teacher, ‘‘is one of those to whom
we teach the first elements. This is the way we go about it. I
wish to have her say ah. Pay attention.’’ ‘he teacher opened
her mouth as we open it to pronounce the open a, and she
motioned to the girl to open her mouth in the same way. ‘The
child obeyed. Then the mistress made a sign to her to throw
out her voice; the girl emitted ‘her voice but instead of saying
256 THE HEART OF A BOY

a pronounced o. ‘‘ No,” said the mistress, “‘ that is not right.”
And taking the girl by both hands, put one of them on her
throat and the other on her chest and repeated a. The child,
feeling with her hand the movements of the throat and chest
of the mistress, opened her mouth as before and pronounced a
very correctly. Then the mistress made her say <, /, d, always
holding the two small hands upon her chest and throat. ‘‘ Do
you understand now ?’’ she asked.

The father understood, but seemed more surprised than

when he did not understand. ‘‘Do you teach them all to
speak in that same way ?’’ he inquired, after a moment’s reflec-
tion, looking at the teacher. ‘‘ Have you the patience to teach

them to speak in that way, little by little, all of them, one by
one, year after year? Vou are saints! You are like the
angels of paradise! And now, please, leave me alone with my
daughter; leave her with me for five minutes.”’

Pulling her on a side seat, he began to question her while
the child would answer and he laughed with tears in his eyes,
striking his knee with his fists, grasping the girl with his hand,
looking at her, beside himself with hearing her as though it
were a voice from heaven. ‘Then he asked the mistress: ‘‘Am
I allowed to go and thank the director of the asylum ?”’

“The director is not here,” replied the teacher. ‘But
there is another person whom you ought to thank. Here,
every girl is entrusted to the care of an older companion, whe
acts as a sister, or a mothet to her. Your daughter has been
entrusted to a deaf and dumb girl of seventeen, the daughter
of a baker; she is truly kind and very fond of her. Every morn-
ing for the last two years she has helped her to dress; she
combs her hair, teaches her to sew, mends her clothes and keeps
her company. Lwigia, what do you call your asylum mamma?’

The girl smiled and replied: ‘‘ Cate-rina Gior-dano.’’ Then
she said to her father: ‘‘ Very, very kind.’’

The janitor having gone out at a motion from the teacher
veturned with a deaf and dumb girl, blonde and robust, with 2
THE HEART OF A BOY 257

jovial face, also dressed in a reddish striped dress and a gray
apron, who stopped at the door blushing; then she bowed and
smiled; she had the figure of a woman but the expression of a
child.

The daughter of Giorgio ran to her, took her by the arm
like a child and dragged her to her father, saying with her
thick voice: ‘‘ Ca-te-rina Gior-dano.”

“Oh, what a good girl!’’ exclaimed the father, and he
stretched out his hand to caress her, but immediately drew it
back, saying: ‘‘Ah, you dear, good girl, may God bless you,
may He grant you much happiness and consolation, may He
make you happier than all your people. Such a kind girl she
has been to my poor Gigia; it is an honest workman, a poor
father of a family who wishes all this to you with all his
heart.’’

The older girl caressed the little one, all the time smiling,
and the gardener continued to look at her as he would gaze at
a Madonna.

‘““Now you may take your daughter with you,’’ said the
mistress.

‘* Of course, I will take her,” replied the gardener. ‘‘I will
take her to Condove and bring her back to-morrow morning !”
—The daughter ran away to dress—‘‘ Three years that I have
not seen her,”’ repeated the gardener, ‘‘and now she speaks!
I will take her to Condove immediately, but first I want to
make a tour around Turin with my little deaf and dumb
daughter on my arm, that they may all see her, and I will take
her to see my few acquaintances, that they may hear her! Oh,
what a beautiful day! This is what you mey call a consola-
tion! Here, give me your arm; give your arm to your father,
my Gigia!’’

The girl who had returned with a little cloak and cap, gave
him her arm.

‘“Thanks to all,’ said her father at the door. ‘‘ Thanks to
all with my whole soul! I shall return again, thanks to all!”
258 THE HEART OF A BOY

He stood thinking for a moment, then he took his arm from
his daughter’s and turned back, feeling in his waist-coat
pocket, and shouted like a furious man: “You see I ama
poor fellow, but here, I leave these twenty lire for the asylum,
a nice bright new gold piece! ’’ and he threw it upon the table
with a bang.

‘‘No, no, my good man,’’ said the mistress, moved, ‘‘take
back yourmoney. I cannot accept it. Take it back; we do not
need it. You will come when the director is here. But he will
not accept it either, you may be sure. You have worked too
hard to earn your money, poor man. ‘They will all be grateful
to you just the same.’’

‘No, I wish to leave it,’’ said the gardener obstinately;
‘‘and then later—we will see.” _

But the mistress replaced the coin in his pocket without giv-
ing him time to push her back.

Then he gaveit up, shrugging his shoulders, and throw-
ing a kiss to the teacher and the older girl, he again toox
his daughter’s arm and rushed out of the door, saying: ‘‘ Come,
come, my daughter, my poor deaf and dumb, my treasure !’’

And the deaf and dumb girl exclaimed with a thick voice :
‘What a beau-ti-ful sun-shine.’’

JUNE

GARIBALDI
Lo-morrow is the Naiwonal Feast Day

June the 3rd.

This i 7s a day of national mourning. Gartbaldt died last night,
Dost thou know who he was? It was he who delivered ten mili-
zons of Italians from the tyranny of the Bourbons. He died at
the age of seventy-five. He was born in Nizza, a son of the cap-
tain of a sailing vessel. At the age of eight, he saved the life of
THE HEART OF A BOY | 259

a woman; when he was thirteen, he dragged to safety a boat
loaded with his companions who were about to be shipwrecked; at
twenty, he rescued a youth who was drowning in the waters of
Marseilles ; at forty-one, he saved a ship from a fire on the ocean.
fle fought for ten years in South America for the liberty of a
Joreign people. He fought in three wars against the Austrians
Jor the liberation of Lombardy and Trent. He defended Rome
against the French in 1849. He liberated Palermo aud Naples
wz 1860. He fought again for Rome in’67. Combatted against
the Germans, in 1870, for the defense of France. He bore the
Jiame of heroism and the genius of war. He was engaged in
Jorty battles and won thirty-seven of them. When he was not
engaged in war, he worked for his living ; he found seclusion
upon a solitary island and tilled the land. During his life he
was a teacher, a sailor, a workman, a merchant, a soldier, a gen-
eral, a dictator. He was great, simple and good, he hated all the
oppressors, and loved all the people. He always protected the
weak ones, he refused honor, despised death, adored Italy. When
he uttered a war cry, a legion of valorous men would run to him
Jrom every side. Gentlemen would leave their palaces, workmen
their shops, and youths thetr schools, in order to go and fight
under the sunshine of his glory. In war time, he wore a red
shirt. Fle was a blonde, handsome and strong. Upon the field
of battle he was like lightning, in his affection like a child, in his
sorrow hake a saint, Thousands of Italians have died for their
country, glad while dying to see him pass at a distance, victorious.
Thousands would have died for him, millions have blessed him,
and millions will continue to bless him. Hets dead. The whole
world mourns for him, Thou canst not yet comprehend it. But
thou wilt read of his deeds, thou wilt hear him spoken of continu-
ally during thy life; and as thou growest, his image will grow
before thee; when thou art aman, thou wilt behold him as a giant;
and when thou art no longer in this world, the children of thy
children, and the thousands to be born of the coming generations,
will see on high his radiant image glorifying him as the 1edeemer
260 THE HEART OF A BOY

of the peopie, crowned with the names of his victories as with a cirde
of stars, and the brow and soul of every Malian will beam as he

pronounces his name.
LThy Father.

THE ARMY

Sunday the sith, the National Holiday having been postponed for seven
days on account of the death of Garibaldi.

We went into the piazza Castello to see the military parade,
which filed in front of the Chief Commander of the Army '
Corps, between two rows of people While the soldiers were
marching past, at the sound of the trumpets and the music ofthe
bands, my father pointed out to me the different corps and the
glories of the flags. At the head of the line came the cadets
of the academy, who will become officers in the engineering
and the artillery corps; about three hundred of them dressed in
black, passed by with the dashing and easy elegance of the soldier
and student. After them, the infantry passed: first the Aosta
brigade which fought at Goito and at San Martino, next the
Bergamo brigade which fought at Castelfidardo, four regiments,
company after company, thousands of red tassels that looked
like a double and very long crown of flowers of a blood red
color, extended and fluttering at the ends, and carried across
the crowd. After the infantry, marched the battalions
of the Engineer’s Corps, with their black plumes and
crimson stripes, and while they were filing past, we could see
coming in front and back of them hundreds of straight long
plumes, which rose above the heads of the spectators. ‘These
were the Alpine soldiers, the defenders of the gates of Italy,
all of them tall, rosy, and strongly built, wearing Calabrian
hats.and lapels of a vivid green, the color of the grass of their
mountains. ‘The Alpine soldiers were still filing by when a
guiver ran through the crowd, and the *‘ Bersaglieri,’’ the old
THE HEART OF A BOY 261

twelfth battalion, the first ones who entered Rome through the
breach of Porta Pia, their faces bronzed, alert, quick, with
their feathers floating in the wind, passed like a wave ina
black sea, making the piazza ring with the sharp tones of their
trumpets which sounded like cries of joy. But that sound was
deafened by a rumble which announced the field artillery, and
they passed proudly, seated upon their caissons, drawn by three
hundred spans of fiery horses, the handsome soldiers with the
yellow lacings, and the long bronze and steel cannons glitter-
ing upon their carriages which were rattling and making such
a noise that the earth trembled beneath our feet. Then came
slowly, grave and beautiful in their heavy and solid appear-
anee, the stalwart soldiers of the mountain artillery with their ©
powerful mules, that mountain artillery, which carries dismay
and death as high as the foot of man can climb. ‘The last to
pass was the beautiful regiment of Genoa cavalry, which
wheeled down like a whirlwind upon ten fields and fought
scores of battles from Santa Lucia to Villafranca, galloping,
with their helmets shining in the sun, with their lances erect,
their pennons floating in the wind, glittering with silver and
gold, filling the air with jingling and neighing.

“How beautiful !’’ I exclaimed.—But my father almost
reproached me for those words, and said:

“You must not look upon the arn:y as an amusing per-
formance. All those young men, full of vigor and hope, may
be called upon at any time to defend our country and be
crushed to pieces in a half hour by bullets or grape-shot.
Every time you hear the cry at a feast, ‘ Long live the army |
long live Italy !’—just think of the regiment passing over a
field covered with corpses and flooded with blood, and then the
hurrahs to the army will come out of the most profound
depths of your heart, and the image of Italy. will appear
greater and more severe.”
262 THE HEART OF A BOY

ITALY
Tuesday the rath.

Thus thou must salute thy country in the days of festivity ;

“* Ttaly, my noble and beloved land, where my father and my

mother were born and will be buried—where I hope to live and die,

where my children will grow up and die: Beautiful [taly, grand

and glorious for many centuries, untted and free for the last few
years; who hast scattered so much light and divine intellect
throughout the world! Italy, for whom so many valorous men

have died upon the field of batile and so many heroes upon the
scaffold; august mother of three hundred cities and thirty millions
of children! I, a child who cannot understand thee, for [am still

unable to fully know thee, I venerate and love thee with all my
soul, and am proud to be born of thee, to be able to call myself thy
son! Love thy beautiful seas, thy sublime Alps, I love thy sol-
emn monuments and thy immortal menories, L love thy glory ana

thy beauty; [ love and venerate thy whole country as I do that

most beloved part where for the first time I saw the sun and heard
thy name. TI love every portion of thee with devoted affection and

with equal gratitude:— Turin, the valiant; Genoa, the superb,

Bologna, the learned, Venice, the enchanting; Milan, the power-
ful. L love you all with the equal reverence of a child. Florence,
the: gentle, and Palermo, the terrible; Naples, great and beautt-

ful; Rome, marvelous and eternal. TI love thee, sacred country!
And I swear that I shall love all thy children like brothers, that 1
will always honor in ney heart thy great, ulustrious men and thy
noble dead; that I will be an industrious and honest citizen, con-
stantly intent upon elevating myself, to render myself worthy of
thee, to assist with my small powers to cause to disappear from thy
face all misery, ignorance and crime, that thou mayest live and
expand tranguilly in the majesty of thy justice and thy strength.
L swear that [ will serve thee as it is granted to me, with my tal-
THE HEART OF A BOY 263-

ent, with my arm, and with my heart, humbly and boldly; and if
the day comes in which I shall have to shed my blood and give my
life for thee, I will shed my blood and die crying—crying to the
sky thy holy name and sending my last kiss to thy blessed flag I”?

Thy Father.

THIRTY-TWO DEGREES CENTIGRADE
friday the r6th.

In the five days which have passed since the national feast,
the heat has increased three degrees. Weare now in full sum-
mer, every one begins to feel tired; the boys have all lost their
rosy color; the heads droop; the legs grow thin, and the eyes close.
Poor Nelli, who suffers so.much from the heat, has now a face
the color of wax. Sometimes he falls asleep with his head.
upon his copybook, but Garrone is always prompt to put in
front of him an open reader, standing it upright, so that the
teacher cannot see him. Crossi leans his large head upon the
desk in such away that it looks detached from the shoulders
end placed there. Nobis complains that there are too many
in the room and that we corrupt the air. We have to make a
great effort to study. I see from the window those beautiful
trees which cast a dark shadow, where I would like to go-and
run, and I feel impatient because I am obliged to shut myself
up among the benches. But then I take courage again, seeing
that my good mother always looks at me when I come out of
school to see if I am pale; and asks me, while going over every
page of the lesson:

‘*Do you feel bad?’’ Every morning when she wakes me
at six to do my lessons, she exclaims:

“Courage! there are only so many more days; after that
you will be at liberty to rest, and you will beable to go under
the shade of the trees.”’

She is right to remind me of the boys who work in the fields,
264 THE HEART OF A BOY

beneath the extreme heat of the sun, or on the white gravel of
the river, where they are blinded by the reflection and scorched
by the heat, and of all’those who are employed in glass factor-
ies, who stand motionless the whole day with their faces held
over a gas flame. They all get up sooner than we do and
have no vacations. Let us have courage then! Derossi is the
‘first in this as in everything else; he suffers neither from heat
nor drowsiness; he is always alive and merry, with his blonde
curls in summer as well as in winter. He studies without
tiring and keeps every one around him awake, as if refresh-
ing the air with his voice. There are two others who always
keep awake and are attentive to the lesson: first, that stubborn
boy, Stardi, who pricks his face in order not to fall asleep, and
the warmer and more tired he gets, the closer he shuts his
teeth, and he opens his eyes wide as though he were going to
devour the teacher; and after him that trafficking lad Garoffi,
who keeps busy manufacturing fans out of red paper, orna-
mented with borders taken from match-box pictures, which he
sells for a centesimo each. But the bravest of all is Coretti,
poor Coretti, who gets up at five to help his father carry wood.
By eleven o’clock, he can scarcely keep his eyes open and his
head falls upon his chest. Nevertheless, he shakes himself,
strikes himself upon the back of the neck, and asks permission
to go out and wash his face, and tells the others to shake him
and to pinch him.

In spite of all that, this morning, not being able to fight
his drowsiness any longer, he fell into a deep sleep. ‘The
teacher called him loudly: ‘‘ Coretti!’’ He did not hear. ‘The
teacher, irritated, repeated: ‘‘ Coretti!’’

Then the son of the charcoal dealer, who lives next door to
Coretti, arose and said :

““He worked from five until seven, carrying fagots.’? ‘I'he
teacher let him sleep and continued the lesson for another half
hour. ‘Then he moved softly in front of Coretti’s bench, and
blowing in his face, woke him up. ‘The latter, seeing the
THE HEART OF A BOY 265

teacher before him, drew back frightened. But the teacher
took his head in his hands and told him, kissing his hair :

“I do not reprove you, my child, your sleep is not one of
laziness; it is the sleep of fatigue.”

—

MY FATHER
Saturday the r7th.

Certainly neither thy companion Coretti nor Garrone would
answer thets father as thou hast answered thine this evening.
flow ts tt possible, Enrico? Thou must promise me that this wll
never ‘occur again as long as I live. Every time that thy father
reproaches thee a bad answer flies to thy libs. Think of that day
which will inevitably come when he will call thee to his bedside to
tell thee: ‘‘ Enrico, I leave thee.’ Oh, my child, when thou wilt
hear his voice for the last time, and also Sor a long time after
when thou wilt weep in thy solitary room, in the midst of those
books which he will never open again, then thou wilt remember that
at times thou hast failed in respect to him, and thou. wilt ask of
thyself: ‘‘ Flow ts it possible??? Then thou wilt understand that
he has always been thy best friend, and that when he was Sorced
to punish thee, he suffered from it more than thou didst; that he
has never caused thee sorrow but has always done thee good. Then
thou wilt repent; weeping, thou wilt kiss that table upon which he
has worked so hard, upon which he has worn out his health Sor his
children. Now thou canst not comprehend, because he hides every-
thing from thee except his kindness and his love. Thou dost not
know that at times he ts so weary that he thinks he has only a few
days more-to live, and in those moments he only speaks of thee; he
has no other care in his heart than that he may not leave thee poor
and without protection! And how often, thinking of this, he
enters thy room when thou art asleep and remains there with a
light in his hand, looking at thee, and then, sad and tired as he
25, he returns to work! Thou dost not even know that he looks jor
266 THE HEART OF A BOY

thee and stays with thee because he has a bitterness in his heart;
certain sorrows which attack every man in the world, and looks
for thee as for a friend to find comfort and forgetfulness; and he
feels the necessity of finding refuge in thy affection to recuperate
his serenity and courage. Think, then, what a sorrow it must be
for him when instead of finding affection in thee, he finds coldness
and irreverence! Never stain thyself again with that horrible
ingratitude! Think that of thou wert as good as a saint, thou
wouldst never be able sufficiently to repay him for all that he has
done and ts continually doing for thee. Think also that one can-
not rely upon one’s life, that a misfortune may deprive thee of thy
father when thou art still a boy, in two years, in three months,
to-morrow. Then, my poor Enrico, what a change thou wouldst
see in everything around thee; how empty and desolate would thy
home appear, with thy poor mother dressed in black! Go, my
child, go to thy father; he ts in his room at work, go on tip-toe
that he may not hear thee enter; go and place thy brow upon his
knees, that he may forgive and bless thee.
Thy Mother.

IN THE COUNTRY

Monday the roth.

My good father forgave me this time also, and allowed me to
go on the excursion into the country, which had been planned
ever since Wednesday with Coretti’s father, the wood-huckster.
We all felt the need of the fresh air on the hills. It was a reg-
ular feast. WVesterday at half-past two, we all met in the Piazza
dello Statuto; Derossi, Garrone, Garoffi, Precossi, Coretti and
his father, and I, with our provisions of fruit, sausages,
bread and hard boiled eggs; we also had some leather cups and
some tin cups. We rode in the omnibus as far as La Gran
Madre di Dio, and then off quickly to the hills. Everything
was green, shady and fresh; we rolled upon the grass, put our
THE HEART OF A BOY 267

faces over streams, and jumped over hedges. Coretti’s father
followed us at a distance with his jacket on his shoulder,
smoking his clay pipe; from time to time he would admonish
us with his hand that we should not tear our trousers. Pre-
cossi whistled; I had never heard him whistle before. Coretti
was doing a little of everything with his jack-knife on the way;
he knows everything, that little man. He makes. small mill
wheels, forks and squirts. He wanted to carry the things of
the others, and he was laden, wet with perspiration, but as
nimble as a goat. Derossi was stopping every moment to tell .
the names of the plants and insects. I do not know how he
manages to know so many things. Garrone ate his bread in
silence, but he no longer eats his bread with such mischievous
bites, poor Garrone, since he has lost his mother. However,
he is always the same, always as good as he can be. When
one of us took a start to leap over a ditch, he would run from
the other side and reach out his hand, and because Precossi was
afraid of the cows, having been tossed by one when alittle boy,
every time that one passed Garrone placed himself before him.
We went up to Santa Margherita, and then down the incline
in leaps, rolling in such a way that we ran the risk of hurting
ourselves. Precossi, tumbling into a thorn-bush, tore his
blouse and stood there shamefaced with the. strip dangling; but
Garoffi, who always has pins in his jacket, pinned it up so that
it scarcely showed, while Precossi was saying to him: ‘‘ Excuse
me, excuse me.’’ ‘hen he started to run again. Garoffi was
not losing his time on the way; he was picking herbs to make
salads, with some snails; and every shining stone that he found
he put in his pocket, thinking there might be gold or silver
in it. We went along, running and rolling, climbing in the
shade and in the sunshine, up and down through all the lanes
and paths, until we came panting and breathless to the top of
the hill, where we stopped to eat our lunch on the grass. From
this place we could see an immense plain and the azure Alps
with their white peaks. We were almost dying of hunger, and
268 THE HEART OF A BOY

the bread seemed to melt in our mouths. Coretti’s father gave
us each a portion of sausage upon a pumpkin leaf instead of
a plate. We all began to talk at once about our teachers, about
our companions who were not able to come on the excursion,
and about the examinations. Precossi seemed to be a little
ashamed to eat, and Garrone forced the best of his share into
his mouth. Coretti sat next to his father with his legs crossed.
They looked more like brothers than like father and son when
you gazed at them so near to each other; both red and smiling
with those white teeth. Coretti’s father drank with pleasure
and emptied the leather and tin cups which we left half finished,

saying:

“You, who study do not need to drink so rach it is the
wood-huckster who needs it |”

Then he grasped the nose of his child, saying:—‘' Boys,
you must like this fellow here, he is the flower of. an upright
man; it is I who say this!’? And all except Garrone
laughed.—Coretti’s father continued to drink.

‘What a pity! now you are all together as good comrades
and in a few years from now, who knows where you will be;
Enrico and Derossi will be lawyers or professors, how do T
know,—and you other four will probably be in some shop
working atatrade. And then ‘Good bye, comrades.’”’

‘““What?’’ said Derossi, ‘‘so far as myself am concerned,
Garrone will always be Garrone, Precossi will always be
Precossi, and the others the same, even though I should
become the Emperor of Russia; where they are, I will go.”’

“Bless thee, my child! ’’—exclaimed Coretti’s father, rais-
ing the flask,—‘‘that is the way to talk! ouch! Long live
the good companions, and long live the school which makes
you all of the same family, those who are rich and those who
are poor |”:

We all touched his flask with our cups and drank for the
last time. He added:

‘Hurrah for the squad of the 49th!”’ rising upon his feet


We went along, running and rolling,
THE HEART OF A BOY 269

and swallowing the last drop; ‘‘and if ever you have anything
to do with squads, be careful to be steady as we were !”’

It was already late; we descended running and singing,
walking for long distances arm in arm, and we reached the
River Po as it was growing dark, and thousands of fire-flies
were darting through the air, We did not separate until we
reached the Piazza dello Statuto, where we agreed to meet next
Sunday inorder to go to the Vittorio Emanuele Theater, to
attend the distribution of prizes to the pupils of the evening
schools.

What a fine day! How joyfully I would have returned
home if I had not met my poor teacher. I met her as she
was coming down the stairs of our house, almost in the dark,
and as soon as she saw me she took me by both hands and
whispered in my ear:

‘‘Good bye, Enrico, remember me!”—I noticed that she
was weeping. I mounted the stairs and said to my mother:
‘‘T have met my school mistress.’’—‘‘ She was just going

to bed,” replied my mother, whose eyes werered. Then she
added with sadness, looking at me:
‘“Thy poor mistress is very, very low.”

THE DISTRIBUTION OF PRIZES TO THE WORKMEN
Sunday the 25th,

As it had been agreed, we all went together to the theatre
Vittorio Emanuele, to attend the distribution of prizes to the
workmen. The theatre was decorated ason the 14th of March,
and it was thronged; but almost entirely with workingmen’s
families, and the pit was occupied by the pupils of both sexes
ofthe Choral Singing School, who sang a hymn, ‘“‘To the
Dead Soldiers in the Crimea,’’ which was so beautiful that
when it was over, the audience arose, clapping their hands and
shouting, and they were obliged to sing it over again.
' 270 : THE HEART OF A BOY

Soon after, those who were to receive the prizes began to
file in front of the Mayor, the Prefect, and many others, who
gave them small books of the Savings Bank, diplomas, and
medals. Ina corner of the pit, I'saw the Little Mason sitting
next to his father; on the other side was our principal, and be-
hind him I saw the red head of my teacher of the second
class.

The first to file out were the pupils of the evening schools
for drawing, then the engravers, the stone cutters, lithograph-
ers and some carpenters and masons. Next those of the com-
mercial school; then those of the musical Lyceum, among whom
were many girls, working girls, all in gala dress, who were
greeted with great applause and who laughed. At last, the
pupils of the evening elementary schools passed by; it was a
beautiful spectacle. They were of all ages, of all trades, and
dressed in all sorts of ways. Men with grey hair, boys from
the work-shops, and workmen with long black beards. Tthe
young ones looked at their ease, the grown men were a little
embarrassed. ‘The peopleclapped their hands at the youngest
and the oldest. But no one among the spectators applauded
as they did at our celebration. One could see that they were
all attentive and serious.

The wives and children of many of those who received
prizes were in the pit. There were some little children, who,
when their father passed upon the stage, would call him loudly
by name and point their finger at him, laughing. Some farm-
ers and some porters passed by, who belonged to the Boncom-
pagni school. There was a bootblack from the Citadella school,
whom my father knows and who received a diploma. After
him, we saw a large man, who looked like a giant and whom
I thought I had seen before. Ic was the father of the Little
Mason. He received the second prize. It came back to my
mind when I had seen him in a garret at the bedside of his
sick child, and I sought with my eyes the ‘‘ Little Mason”? in
the pit, poor child! He was gazing at his father with tears in
THE HEART OF A BOY 271

his eyes, and in order to hide his emotion he was making the
hare face.

At that moment I heard a crash of applause, and looking
ttpon the stage I saw a little chimney sweep, with a clean face
but in working clothes, and the Mayor spoke to him holding
him by the hand. A cook came next after the chimney sweep.

Then one of the municipal chimney sweeps received his
medal; he belongs to the Rainieri school. I was feeling some-
thing inexplicable in my heart, somiething like a great affec-
tion and a great respect, thinking how many efforts those
prizes had cost those workmen who had families and were
loaded with cares; how many fatigues were added to their ordi-
nary fatigues; how many hours were snatched from the sleep
they needed so much; and also of how they must have
taxed their intellects which were not accustomed to study, and
I thought of all those hands roughened and calloused by work!

A boy from a factory passed, and it was evident that his
father had loaned him a jacket for the occasion, as.the sleeves
hung down so far that he was obliged to turn them up there
upon the stage to enable him to take his prize, which caused a
great many to laugh, but the laughing was stifled by the clap-
ping of hands. Then came an old man with a bald head and
white beard. Some of the artillery soldiers who came to the
evening class of our school passed by. ‘Then some municipal
guards and some guards who watch the schools. At last, the
pupils of the Evening Choral School sang again the hymn,
‘To The Dead in the Crimea,” and with so much spirit this
time and with such powerful effect, that it was clear it came
direct from their hearts. ‘There was scarcely any applause,
and all retired slowly in deep emotion and without making
any noise. In afew moments, the wide street was crowded.
In front of the door of the theater, there was the chimney

- sweep with his prize book bound in red, and all around him
stood gentlemen speaking to him. Many saluted each other
from opposite sides of the street; workmen, boys, guards, and
272 THE HEART OF A BOY

eachers; my teacher of the second class came out between two
artillery soldiers. You could see wives of workmen with littie
children in their arms, who were holding in their smal! hands
the diplomas of their fathers, and were proudly showing them
to the people.

MY DEAD SCHOOL MISTRESS

; Tuesday the 27th,
While we were at the theatre Vittorio Emanuele, my poor
_ school mistress died. She died at two o’clock in the afternoon,
seven days after she made her visit to my mother. ‘The prin-
cipal came to tell us of her death this morning, saying:

‘‘ Those among you who have been her pupils know how
good she was, how fond she was of her boys. She was like a
mother to them. She is no longer here below. A terrible
sickness has consumed her for some time. Had she not been
obliged to work to earn her living, she might have been able
to take care of herself and perhaps would have recovered; at
least, she might have prolonged her life for some months if
she had asked for a leave of absence; but she wished to remain
with her boys up to the last day. Saturday evening, the 17th,
she took leave of them with the certainty that she would not
see them again; she gave them some good advice, then kissed
each one and left sobbing. Now no one will ever see her
again in this world. Remember her, boys."’

Little Precossi, who had been one of -her pupils in the
first primary, leaned his head on the desk and began to weep.

Last evening, after school, we all went together to the
house of the dead to escort her body to the church. ‘The
hearse, drawn by two horses, was already in front of the house,
and many people were waiting, talking in a subdued voice.
The principal was there, all the teachers and school mistresses
of our school, and also several from other schools where she
had taught before she came to our school All the children of

¢










































val of the dead school-mistress.

Lhe funer
THE HEART OF A BOY 273

her class were there, led by their mothers, carrying tapers,
and a great many who belonged to other classes, and about
fifty girls from the Baretti school, some holding wreaths in their
hands, and others, roses.

A number of wreaths had already heen placed upon the
hearse, upon which was hanging a large acacia crown, bearing
this inscription in black letters: ‘‘ Zo thetr school mistress—the
_ scholars of the fourth class.’”? Below this large crown hung a
smaller one which had been carried there by her own boys.
You could see in the crowd servant girls, sent by their
mistresses with candles, and there were two domestics in
livery, holding lighted torches; a rich gentleman, the father
of one of her pupils had sent his carriage lined in blue silk.
They were all thronging in front of the door. Many of the
girls were wiping away their tears. .

We waited very silently for a long time. Finally, the
casket was brought down. Several of the little children began
to weep loudly when they saw the coffin put into the hearse,
and one started to cry as though he understood fcr the first
time that his mistress was dead, and he was so convulsed by
sobbing that they had to take him away. ‘The procession set
out slowly and in order. First came the daughters of the Ritiro
della Concezione, dressed in green; then came the daughters of
Maria, all dressed in white with blue ribbons; after these came
the priest; and behind the hearse came the teachers and school
mistresses, the little pupils of the first upper and all the others,
and finally the crowd. People looked from the windows and
doors to see all those children and the floral crown. They
were saying: ‘‘ It isa school mistress.”’

There were ladies who were escorting the smallest boys and
some of them were weeping. As soon as we reached the
church, they took the casket from the hearse and carried it
into the middle of the nave in front of the altar. ‘The school
mistresses laid the wreath upon it, the children covered it with
flowers and ali the people, with their lighted candles, began
274 THE HEART OF A BOY

to chant hymns in that large dark church. Then all of a sud-
den, when the priest said his last Amen; the candles were put
out and all left hastily, and the poor mistress was left there
alone. Poor mistress, who was so good to me, who had so
much patience, who had toiled for so many years.

She left a few books to her pupils; to one an inkstand, to
another a little picture, all she possessed. Two days before
dying she told the principal not to allow the smallest boys to
attend her funeral, she did not wish them to cry. She has
done much good, she has suffered, she has died. Poor mis-
tress, to be thus left alone in that dark church! Good bye,
forever, my good friend! Sweet and sad remembrance of my
infancy! _

THANKS
Wednesday the 28th.

My poor school mistress wished to finish her year at school,
and she left only three days before the lessons came to an end.
After to-morrow, we will come together but once more to hear
the reading of the monthly story, ‘‘ 4 Shipwreck,’’ and then it
is allover. Saturday, the first day of July, will be examina-
tion day. Another year, and then the fourth elementary
course is finished. If my mistress had not died, the year would
have passed well. I think of what I knew last October, and it
seems to me that I know much more now; that I have somany
new ideas in my mind; I am now able to speak and to write
better what I think than I could then; Iam also able to figure like
many adults who are not rapid in calculations and could assist
them in their business; I understand a great deal more; I com-
prehend nearly everything I read. Iam happy, but how many
have pushed me forward and helped me to learn, in one way
or another, at home, at school, in the street, and everywhere I
have gone, and in all places where I have seen anything! I
thank them all now. I thank, above all my companions, you
THE HEART OF A BOY 275

my good teacher, who have been. so indulgent, so affectionate
toward me, and for whom every acquisition of mine, for which I
rejoice and feel proud, has been such a fatigue. I thank you,
Derossi; you helped me several times to understand difficult
subjects and to overcome the obstacles at the examination.
And you too, Stardi, good and strong, who have shown me
with your iron will how one can succeed in everything; and
you, Garrone, kind and generous, who make all who associ-
ate with you love you; and thanks to both of you, Precossi and
Coretti, who have always given me an example of courage in
sufferings and serenity in work; I thank you all, and I say
thanks to all the others, too. But above all, I thank you, my
father, my first teacher, my first friend, who have given me so
much good advice and taught me so many things, while you
were working for me, concealing your worries, and seeking in
every way to render my study easy and my life beautiful. You
also, my sweet mother, my guardian, beloved and blessed angel,
who have rejoiced over all my joys and suffered all my bitter-
ness, who have studied, struggled and wept with me, with one
hand caressing my head, the other pointing to heaven. I kneel
before you as when a little child, and I thank you with all the
tenderness you have infused into my soul for twelve years; I
thank you for all your sacrifices and love.



A SHIPWRECK
(THE LAST MONTHLY STORY)

One December morning, several years ago, there sailed from
the port of Liverpool a large steamship, which was carrying
on board two hundred persons, of whom seventy were men of »
the crew. ‘The captain and almost all the sailors were Eng-
lish. Among the passengers, there were several Italians: three
ladies, a priest, and a company of musicians. The steamer
was bound for the island of Malta. ‘The weather was
menacing.
276 THE HEART OF A BOY

Among the third class passengers in the forecastle, there was
an Italian boy about twelve years old, rather small for his age,
but robust, with the fine, bold and severe face of a Sicilian lad.
He was sitting on a coil of rope close to the foremast, and he
kept his hand on a worn out valise which contained all his
effects. He hada brown face and black wavy hair which fell
upon his shoulders. He was poorly clad,: wearing a torn
blanket on his shoulders and an old leather bag on his belt.
He was pensive and gazed about him at the passengers, the
ship, the sailors who were running past, and at the restless
sea. He had the appearance of a boy who had ‘suffered some
great family sorrow. He had the face of a child and the
appearance of a man.

After the departure, one of the sailors, an Italian with grey
hair, appeared forward, leading by the hand a little girl,
and stopping in front of the little Sicilian, he said to him:

‘‘ Here is a companion for your voyage, Mario.”

And he left.

The girl sat down on the coil of rope beside the boy.

They looked at each other.

‘“ Where are you going ?’’ asked the Sicilian.

The girl replied: ‘‘’‘To Malta and then to Naples.”

Then she added: ‘‘I am going to meet my father and
mother who are expecting me. Iam called Giulietta Faggiani.”

The boy said nothing. :

After a few moments, he drew some bread and some dried
fruit out of the bag; the girl had some cakes, and they ate
together.

‘We will have some fun!’’ cried the Italian sailor, passing
by in haste. ‘‘ We are already beginning to toss! ”’

' The wind was increasing and the ship rolled heavily.. But
the two children did not suffer from seasickness and did not
mind it. ‘The little girl smiled. She was about the age of her
companion, although rather taller; she was slim, dark com-
plexioned, and looked somewhat sickly; she was dressed in a
THE HEART OF A BOY 277

very plain way. Her hair, which was curly, was cut short.
She wore a red handkerchief on her head and two little silver
rings in her ears.

While eating together they told each other their story.
The boy had no longer any father or mother; his father, a
workman, had died in Liverpool a few days before, leaving
him alone, and the Italian Consul had sent him back to his
native place, to Palermo, where some distant relatives lived.
The little girl had been taken to London the year before by a
widowed aunt, who was very fond of her, and to whom her
‘parents, being poor, had confided her for some time, trusting in
the promise that she should be heir to her aunt’s estate. But,
a few months after, the aunt was crushed under an omnibus
and died without leaving a penny. The girl had had recourse
to the Consul, who had put her on this steamer bound for
Italy. Both children had been recommended to the Italian
sailor on board.—‘‘ Thus,’’ concluded the girl, ‘‘my father
and mother thought I would return home rich, and instead I
return poor.—But they love me just the same.—And so do my
brothers, I have four of them; they are all small.—I am the
oldest of the family.—I dress them.—They will make a great
deal of me when they see me.—I will enter on tip-toe. How
ugly the seais!’? Then she inquired of the boy: “ Are you
going to stay with your relatives?”’

‘Ves, if they wish to have me,” replied the boy.

“Don’t they care for you?”’

‘‘T do not know.”’

“‘T will be thirteen years old on Christmas,”’ said the girl.

Then they began to talk about the sea and about the people
they had met. They remained together during the whole day,
exchanging a few words from time to time. The passengers
believed them to be brother and sister. The girl was knitting
a stocking, the boy was thinking. The sea continued to grow
rougher. At the moment of separation, that evening, before
going to sleep, the girl said to Mario: ‘Sleep well.”’


278 THE HEART OF A BOY

‘No one will sleep well, poor children!’ exclaimed the
Italian sailor, as he passed on a run, having been called by the
captain. The boy was about to answer his friend: ‘‘Good
night,’’ when an unexpected rush of water dealt him such a
blow that it flung him against abench.

‘*Dear me, he is bleeding,’’ cried the little girl, kneeling
beside him. ‘The passengers who were running below paid no
attention to them. Mario was stunned by the blow and she
wiped his forehead, which was bleeding. Taking the red hand-
kerchief from her head, she tied it around his head, then she

ressed his head upon her breast in order to knot the ends, and -
in this way she got a blooi stain upon her yellow dress just
above the waist. Mario shook himself and rose to his feet,

‘« Are you better,’’ inquired the girl.

“Tt is all over,’’ he replied.

‘* Sleep well,’’ said Giulietta. ‘Good night.’’

‘‘Good night,’’ replied Mario. And they descended the
stairs into their respective dormitories.

The sailor had predicted aright. They had not yet fallen
asleep, when a frightful tempest broke upon them. It was a
sudden onslaught of furious waves, and in a few moments a
mast was broken, and three of the boats, as well as four
oxen which were on deck, were carried away like the
leaves of a tree. A frightful confusion arose on board the
ship. Everything was crashing and there was a terrible uproar
of cries and sobs and prayers, enough to make one’s hair stand
onend. ‘The tempest grew in fury during the night, and at
day-break it was stillincreasing. The formidable waves dashed
transversely against the craft and were breaking over the deck,
smashing, sweeping, and washing everything into the sea.
The platform which covered the machinery was burst open, and
the water rushed in with a terrible roar; the fires went out and
the stokers fled. Huge, raging streams of water were pouring
into the steamer from every side, and a thundering voice cried:

‘““To the pumps!’’ It was the voice of the captain.


























i 7
A number of them were kneeling around the priest.
THE HEART OF A BOY 279

The sailors rushed to the pumps.

A sudden wave struck the ship on the stern, demolishing
the bulwarks and the glass in ans port holes and letting ina
flood of water.

All the passengers, more dead than alive, had found refuge
in the large state room.

At that moment, the captain appeared. :

“Captain! Captain!’’ they all cried at once. ‘‘ What is
the matter? What is going on? Is there any hope for us?
Are we safe?”

The captain waited until they were all silent, and then said
impressively: ‘‘ Let us resign ourselves to our fate.”

One woman shrieked: ‘‘Mercy!’’ None of the others
were able to utter a sound. All were frozen with terror.
Some time passed in this way. The silence was like that of a
tomb. They all looked at one another with deathly faces.
The sea was growing more and more furious, and the breakers.
were dashing against the ship. The captain attempted to
launch a life boat; five sailors entered it and the boat was
lowered, but the waves overturned it and two of the sailors
were drowned, one of whom was the Italian; the others with
great difficulty succeeded in grasping the Topes and got on
board again.

After this the sailors lost their courage. Two hours later
the ship was submerged in water to the height of the port-
holes.

A tremendous nee then presented itself on deck.
Mothers were desperately pressing their children upon
their breasts; friends were embracing each other, and saying:
‘“Good bye.’? Some were going down to their cabins to die ©
out of sight of the sea. One of the passengers shot himself
in the head with a pistol and fell headlong upon the stairs of
the dormitory, where he expired. Some clung frantically to
each other; some of the women writhed in horrible convulsions,
and a number of them were kneeling around the priest. You
280 THE HEART OF A BOY

could hear a chorus of sobbings and childish lamentations in
shrill and strange voices, and you could see here and there
some who were motionless like statues, stupefied, with their
eyes dilated and without sight, as you see them on corpses or
lunatics. The two children, Mario and Giulietta, clinging to
a mast of the ship, were gazing fixedly at the sea as though
insane,

The sea had quieted a little, but the steamer was sinking
slowly; only a few moments remained.

“‘ Launch the long boat!” cried the captain.

The boat, the last one remaining, was launched and four-
teen sailors and three of the passengers went into it. The
captain remained on board.

‘‘Come down with us!’’ they all cried.

“‘T must die at my post!’’ replied the captain.

‘‘We will meet some ship,’’ cried the sailorsto him. ‘‘We
will be saved. Come down or you are lost.’’

“FE remain!’ ,

The sailors then cried: ‘‘ There is place for one more,” and
turning toward the other passengers, ‘‘ a woman!?’

A woman came forward supported by the captain, but see-
ing the distance between the ship and the life boat, she had
not the courage to take the jump and fell back upon the deck.
The other women were all in a faint or almost dying.

‘* A child!’ cried the sailors.

At that cry, the Sicilian boy and his girl companion, who
had so far stood as though petrified in an extraordinary stupor,
suddenly awakened by the violent instinct of self preserva-
tion, let go of the mast at once and rushed to the side of
the ship, shouting together: ‘‘I!—Save me!’’ and tried to
drive each other back in turn like two furious beasts.

‘““ The smaller of the two!’’ cried the sailors, ‘the poat is
already overloaded! ‘The smaller of the two!”

Hearing those words, the girl, as though struck by light-
ning, let her arms fall and stood motionless looking at Mario
THE HEART OF A BOY 281

with eyes filled with the anguish of death. Mario looked at
her a moment, he saw the blood stain upon her waist, recalled
everything, and a divine idea flashed through his mind.

‘‘ The smaller of the two!’’ the sailors were crying together
with imperious impatience! ‘‘ We are going!’’

Then Mario in a voice which did not seem his own shouted:
“* She is the lighter of the two.—You go, Giulietta! You have
a father and mother! I am alone! I give you my place!
Go now!”

‘“Throw her over!” cried the sailors.

Mario grasped Giulietta round the waist and threw her to
them. The girl uttered a cry as she took the plunge, a sailor
caught her by the arm and pulled her inside the boat.

The lad remained standing on the side of the ship, with
his head held high, his hair flying in the wind, motionless,
tranquil, sublime!

The boat moved away but was hardly able to aon out of the
whirlpool of the waters, produced by the sinking of the
steamer, and which threatened to overturn it.

The girl almost lost her senses, but at last raising her eyes
to the boy, she broke into an outburst of weeping.

““Good bye, Mario,’’ she cried to him between her Bes
and with her hands stretched towards him: ‘‘ Good bye!
Good bye! Good bye!”’

*“ Good bye,’’ cried the lad raising his hand ahove his head.

The boat moved swiftly away upon the troubled sea under
that dark sky.—No one was any longer crying on the
steamer. The water was already lapping the edge of the deck.

Suddenly the boy fell on his knees with his hands joined
together and his eyes turned to the sky.

The girl covered her face.

When she raised her head and looked again upon the sea,
the ship was no longer there.
282 THE HEART OF A BOY

JULY

THE LAST PAGH FROM MY MOTHER
Saturday the rst.

The year ts finished, Enrico, and it ts a nice thing that the
emage of the sublime child, who sacrificed his life for his little
friend, will remain with thee as a remembrance of the last day.
Now that thou art about to separate from thy teachers and thy
companions, I have sad news to communicate to thee. The Ssepa-
vation will last not only three months, but forever. T, hy father,
for reasons concerning his profession, ts obliged to leave Turin
and we must go with him. We will move next autumn. Ty hou,
wilt have to enter a new school. Thou art sorry for this, art thou
not? For Lam sure that thou carest for thy old school, where for
four years, twice a day, thou hast experienced the pleasure of
toiling, where thou hast seen for a long time, Sor so many hours
each day, the same boys, the same teachers, the same parents, and
thy mother who was waiting with a smile for thee, thy old school,
where thy talents were developed, where thou hast found so many
good companions, where every word that thou hast heard had a
purport of something for thy good, and where thou hast not expe-
rienced any sorrow without its being beneficial to thee! Thou
wut carry this affection with thee, and say SJarewell from the bot-
tom of thy heart to all those boys. Some of them will meet with
misfortunes, several may soon lose their father and mother, others
will die young; some will probably shed their blood nobly upon the
Jield of battle; others will become good and upright workmen,
Jathers of industrious families such as their own. And who
knows that there might not be some one of them who will render some
very great service to his country and make his name glorious |
Thou wilt separate from them with affection, leaving a little of thy
sout tn that great family in which thou didst enter as a child and
Srom which thou comest out a youth, and which thy father and thy
THE HEART OF A BOY 283

mother love because there thou hast been loved so much. The
school ts like a mother. My Enrico, it snatched thee out of my
arms when thou couldst scarcely talk, and now it returns thee to
mc, tall, strong, good, and studious; may it be blessed, and thou
must never forget it, my child. Tt will be impossible for thee to
jorget it; thou wilt go about the world, and thou wilt see large
cities and marvelous monuments; thou wilt forget many of these,
but that modest, white building with those closed blinds, and the
little garden where sprouted the first flower of thy intelligence,
thou wilt always behold it to the last day of thy life, as I will see
the house where I first heard thy voice !
Lhy Mother.

THE EXAMINATION
; Tuesday the gth.

‘The examination day has come at last. Around thestreets
and about the school, we hear nothing else spoken of, by the
boys, by the fathers and mothers, even by the teachers:
every one talks about examinations, points, problems,
average, remanded, promoted; every one repeats the same
words. Yesterday morning we had the examination in com-
position, this morning in arithmetic. It was affecting to see
the parents taking their boys to school, bestowing the last
advice on the way. Some of the mothers would accompany
their children as far as the benches in the school room to see if
there was ink in the inkstand and to try the pen, and turning
around at the door to say: ‘‘ Have courage! Pay attention |
I beseech you!” ;

Our assistant teacher was Coatti, the one with that rough
black beard, who has a voice like a lion and who never pun-
ishes any one. Some of the boys on the benches were afraid.
When the teacher unsealed the letter from the school board
and took out the problem, not a breath could be heard.
284 THE HEART OF A BOY

He read the problem in a loud voice, looking first at one
and then at another with terrible eyes, but we could see that
if he had been able to dictate the solution also and have us all
promoted, he would have experienced much pleasure.

After an hour’s work, a great many began to grow tired, as.
the problem was difficult, and one of the boys cried. Crossi
was beating his head with his fist. It was not the fault of
some, that they were unable to solve it, as they had not had
time to study, having been neglected by their parents. How-
ever, a providence was at hand. “You ought to have seen how
much pains Derossi took to help them out, how he tried to pass
his figures and to suggest the operation without being noticed,
anxious for all as if he had been our own teacher. Garrone,
who is strong in arithmetic, also helped all those that he could,
and even assisted Nobis, who, finding himself in a quandary,
was unusually kind. Stardi remained motionless for more than
an hour, with his eyes on the problem and his fist at his tem-
ples, and then he put down his work in five minutes.

The teacher was walking between the benches, saying +
“‘Becalm! Becalm! I advise you to be calm!?? And when
he saw some one who was discouraged, in order to make him
laugh and restore his spirits, he opened his mouth as if to de-
vour him, imitating a lion.

Looking through the blinds about eleven o’clock, I noticed
many of the parents coming and going in the street, looking
rather impatient. ‘There was Precossi’s father, wearing a blue
jacket, having just come out of the workshop with his face
still black. Crossi’s mother, the vegetable vender, was there,
as well as Nelli’s mother, all dressed in black; she was not able
to keep still. A little before noon, my father came and raised
his eyes foward my window: my dear father! At noon we
were all through. ‘There was quite a performance at the exit.
The parents all ran to meet the boys and ask them questions,
and they looked over the leaves of the copy-books, comparing
them with the lessons of their companions: ‘‘ How many opera-~
THE HEART OF A BOY 285

tions?’’? ‘‘ What is the total?’’ ‘‘How is it about the sub-
traction?’’ ‘‘ What is the answer?’’ ‘‘ How is it about the
_ point in the decimal?” All the teachers were going here and
there. called by a hundred voices. My father took the rougk
draft from my hand, looked at it'and said: ‘‘Itis well done.’’
Next to us was the blacksmith Precossi, who was looking at
the problem of his son, rather uneasily, not comprehending it,
He turned toward my father and exclaimed: ‘‘ Would you
favor me by telling me the total?’’ My father read the figure. °
The blacksmith looked at the book—it agreed. ‘‘ Bravo, little
fellow!’’ he joyfully exclaimed, while my father and he
looked at each other with a pleasant smile like two friends;
my father reached out his hand, and the other shook it and
they separated, saying: ‘‘ Until the oral. examination’’—
“Until the oral examination.” After walking a few steps, we
heard a falsetto voice which caused us to turn around. It was
the blacksmith singing.

THE LAST EXAMINATION
Friday the 7th.

This morning we had the oral examination. We were all
in the class room at eight o’clock, and at a quarter past eight
they began to call us, four at a time, into the large hall, where
there was a large table covered with a green cloth, and around
it sat the principal and four teachers, among whom was our
‘own. How well I then perceived that he is really fond of us.
While the others were questioning, his eyes were constantly
fixed upon us; he grew uneasy when we were uncertain in our
replies and serene when we gave a good answer; feeling every-
thing, and was making us signs a thousand times with the
hands and with the head, as if saying:—‘‘ That is right—no—
pay attention—slower—courage!”’

Had he been allowed to speak, I believe he would have
prompted us in everything. If one after the other our fathers
286 THE HEART OF A BOY

could have been put in his place, they could not have done
any better. ‘Ten times I felt like crying ‘‘ Thanks ”’ to him in
the presence of them all. When the other teachers told me:
“That is right, you may go,” his eyes beamed with happiness

I returned to the class and waited for my father. Nearly
all of the pupils were there. Isat next to Garrone. I was
nota bit happy. I was thinking that it was the last time that
we should sit so near each other! I had not yet told Garrone
‘that I should not be able to go through the fourth elementary
with him, that I had to leave Turin with my father; ne knew
nothing about it. He was sitting there bent double, with
his thick head leaning upon the desk, drawing some ornamen-
tal figures around a photograph of his father, dressed asa
machinist. His father is a big tall fellow with a head like an
ox, and has a serious and honest look like his boy. While he
was bent down thus, with his shirt a little open in front, I
spied on his bare and robust chest the golden cross which
Nelli’s mother had given him when she learned that he had
protected her son. However, it was necessary that I should
tell him that I was going to leave, and I said to him:

‘“‘Garrone, next autumn my father will leave Turin for-
ever.”’

He asked meif I were also going, and I answered that I
was.

‘‘ Will you not go through the fourth elementary with us?”
he asked.

I answered, ‘‘ No.”

He remained quiet for a short time, continuing to draw.
Then he asked, without raising his head: ‘‘ Will you ever
think of your companions of the third elementary ?’’

““Yes,’’? I replied, ‘‘I will remember all of them, but I
will think more of you than of the others. How could I forget
you?” .

He cast at me a serious glance, which expressed a thousand
things, and said nothing; but he reached out his left hand,
THE HEART OF A BOY 287

pretending to draw with the other, andI grasped it between
both of my hands, that strong and loyal hand!

At that moment, our teacher rushed in with a red face ind
said hastily in a low and merry tone of voice: ‘‘ Good boys,
so far everything goes well, I hope those who remain will do as
' well, my good boys! Courage! I feel very well satisfied.”

And in order to show us his content and to exhilarate us,
leaving the room quickly, he feigned a stumbling movement,
catching the wall. to prevent his falling; he, whom we had
never seen laugh! It.seemed so strange that instead of laugh-
ing we were all dumfounded; we all smiled, but no one
laughed.—I cannot explain the pain mingled with tenderness
that that childish act of joy caused me. That moment of
. cheerfulness was his whole reward, the reward of nine months of
goodness, of patience, and of worries! It was for that he had
wearied himself so much, and that he had come so many times
to teach when sick, our poor master! ‘That was all, and
nothing else did he ask in exchange for so much affection and
so many cares!

And it seems to me now that I shall always see again that
joy of his when I remember him for many years, and when I
am a man, if he be still alive and we meet, I will tell him
about that outburst which touched my heart, and I will kiss
him on his white hair.

FAREWELL
Monday the roth.

At one o’clock we gathered for the last time in the school
room to listen to the result of the examination and to receive
our books of promotion. The streets were thronged with
people. They had also invaded the large hall, and a great
many of them had entered the class room pushing themselves
as far as the teacher’s desk. In our classroom, they were
filling all the vacant’ space between the wall and the first
288 THER HEART OF A BOY .-

bench. ‘here was the father of Garrone, the mother of
Derossi, the blacksmith Precossi, Mrs. Nelli, the vegetable
vender, the father of the Little Mason, the father of Stardi,

besides many others whom I had never seen before. One
could hear from every side aebuzzing and hum, as though we
- were in a square. Our teacher entered; a profound silence
ensued. :

He was holding in his hand the Eclorae and commenced
to read it at once. Abatucci, promoted, sixty-sixtieths;
Archini, promoted, fifty-five sixtieths; the Little Mason, pro-
moted, Crossi promoted. ‘Then he read loudly: ‘‘ Ernesto
Derossi, promoted, seventy-seventieths, and first prize.’’

All the parents who were there and who knew him exclaimed:
‘‘ Bravo, bravo, Derossi!’’

He shook his blonde locks with an easy and beautiful
smile, looking at his mother, who saluted him with her hand.
Garoffi, Garrone, and the Calabrian boy, promoted. Then
three or four names in sticcession, remanded; one of them
began to weep as his father who stood near the door made him
asign of menace. But the teacher said to the father: ‘‘ No,
sir, allow me; it is not always the pupil’s fault, it is sometimes
hard luck, and this is the case with your son.’’ Then he read:
“Nelli, promoted, sixty-two-seventieths.’”? His mother sent
him a kiss-witha fan. ‘‘Stardi, promoted with sixty-seven-
seventieths;’’ but hearing that fine point, he did not even
smile, nor did he take his fist from his temple. The last of all

-was Votini, who had come there finely dressed and with his
hair well brushed; promoted. Hone read the last name, the
teacher arose and said:

‘‘ Boys, this is the last time we will meet together. We
have been together a year, now we separate as good friends,
do we not? I regret to separate from you, dear children.’’-
He hesitated and then resumed: ‘‘If at times I have lost my
patience, if at times I have been unjust or too severe, forgive -
me.’’
THE HEART OF A BOY 289

ee

‘*No, no,’’ said the parents of many of the pupils,
Signor maestro, never, never.”

‘* Forgive me,’’ repeated the teacher, ‘‘ and remembe1 me.
Next year you will no longer be with me, but I will see you
all again, and you will remain foreverin my heart. Farewell,
boys!’ Immediately he came forward into our midst, and we
all reached our hands to him, rising from the benches; some
kissed him, and fifty voices cried together:

‘‘ Until we meet again, master! Thanks, signor maestro;
may happiness follow you! Do remember us!’’—When he
went out he looked as though oppressed by emotion.

no,

We all came out in confusion. From class rooms on every

side the others were coming out, and they were all mingled
together. ‘There was a great noise; the boys and parents were
saying farewells to the teachers and to the school mistresses,
and were saluting one another. ‘The mistress with the red
feather had four or five little children on top of her and about
twenty around, who were almost taking her breath away.
They had torn the hat of the ‘‘Little Nun,’’ and they had
stuck a dozen bouquets between the buttons of her black dress
and in her pockets, A number of them were greeting Robetti,
who that day had laid aside for the first time his crutches
From every side, one could hear: ‘‘ Till next year!” ‘‘ Till
the twentieth of October?’’ ‘‘’To meet again at All-Saints
Day!’’ We also greeted one another. How we forgot all the
disagreements of the past in that moment! Votini, who had
always been so jealous of Derossi, was the first to rush towards
him and throw his arms around him. I saluted the Little Mason
and kissed him just at the moment he was making to me
for the last time the hare face, that dear lad! I saluted Pre-
cossi and Garoffi who told me the date of the drawing of his
last lottery and presented me with a little majolica paper
weight which was broken in one corner. I said good-bye to
all the others. It was nice to see how poor Nelli clung to
Garrone, se that they could not take him away; they all
290 THE HEART OF A BOY

crowded around Garrone and said: ‘‘ Good-bye, Garrone,
good-bye till we meet again.’”? And some were touching him
and pressing him to say good-bye, that brave, noble boy! His
father stood there in amazement; he looked at. us and smiled.
Garrone was the last one whom I embraced in the street, and I
stifled a sob in my heart; he kissed meon the forehead. Then
Iran to my father and mother. My fatheraskedme: ‘‘ Have
you bade farewell to-all your school-mates? ”’—I replied: ‘I
have.’’—“‘ If there is any one whom you have wronged, go
and ask his forgiveness. Is there any one? ’’—‘‘ No one,’ I
replied.—‘‘ Then, good-bye!’’ said my father with emotion,
casting a last glance at the school.—And my mother Basan

‘* Good bye! ”’—I was not able to speak.


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'2011-11-14T21:41:47-05:00'
describe
'9493' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHMO' 'sip-files00001thm.jpg'
6fdc5ab6243e7f4d775ce4e1c6cc105c
dd5f14c7d1efd00d7a66a98e3aceeeb0fe64fe8f
'2011-11-14T21:38:48-05:00'
describe
'580977' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHMP' 'sip-files00002.jp2'
a6b308a36cf7307c0782fefaab93622e
2d52e6d1b5d941f031a8c452d0e480077bfc9916
'2011-11-14T21:35:50-05:00'
describe
'87645' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHMQ' 'sip-files00002.jpg'
26c5e50b63fc80951ef5391cf87efd8e
2b6212cca27475068301563eb85ec1af00fd284b
'2011-11-14T21:34:52-05:00'
describe
'1304' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHMR' 'sip-files00002.pro'
f5c6263360584697302fda36398ff235
f497f454ac17414acafed5a8128647cab4a45b92
'2011-11-14T21:40:53-05:00'
describe
'16838' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHMS' 'sip-files00002.QC.jpg'
39aa42b96f8553b9577aa03742137ce9
bfe1cda664deaa72e8ec50a65b762e884f4da6c9
'2011-11-14T21:38:00-05:00'
describe
'13949740' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHMT' 'sip-files00002.tif'
ad6926709dd0594d8ee53a015ce63745
38fa1c51d7cba1f8563a02655448116f152817ea
'2011-11-14T21:34:12-05:00'
describe
'127' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHMU' 'sip-files00002.txt'
2343262571cfd42377372a038e98d2b0
f03728c4ae985b411270ac9135b8995c0bb44b87
'2011-11-14T21:40:50-05:00'
describe
'4374' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHMV' 'sip-files00002thm.jpg'
f8c36fd0a1e11d5a0ea323c3d97f2bca
fc4a0b0da58513b4d93510e8dc9a2a5199075c1c
'2011-11-14T21:33:36-05:00'
describe
'445744' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHMW' 'sip-files00005.jp2'
cc3d0ff78d144bd9fd5b0f15d718bc95
c234c630c68e4846aff8df38db0af903ff5ba2fe
'2011-11-14T21:37:25-05:00'
describe
'26004' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHMX' 'sip-files00005.jpg'
bd6abeab9da1ae1c2664080c40159cb9
07140653741587b542facba1cb661e11d2258ef1
'2011-11-14T21:35:03-05:00'
describe
'1029' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHMY' 'sip-files00005.pro'
af87e3ad7f8be7a2e4aeffd60788cc32
59a49db1527aaa55a0c817c35515c95edf29341e
'2011-11-14T21:40:57-05:00'
describe
'6384' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHMZ' 'sip-files00005.QC.jpg'
93d56faf9cbbd2539ca1a27825c35b7b
252dc086a1eb68b6fcc0addcc5ec07c3a86c39f9
describe
'3583672' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNA' 'sip-files00005.tif'
09a12a93b5ce38e68c32b2c24feab8c7
a28812b301b3a3be3431d557ab5edcb64e269cd7
describe
'73' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNB' 'sip-files00005.txt'
b5e7b0b5b71cb14fc8dec91a510f9030
7d0d4eb28462b5a4eb1ede7e4288d70206720318
'2011-11-14T21:41:30-05:00'
describe
'1573' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNC' 'sip-files00005thm.jpg'
f1163ac6aedd704e46fdfa607f6fbdcc
0571a5a77b9b0a3b428d7c6585315467e8e1e031
'2011-11-14T21:33:28-05:00'
describe
'445857' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHND' 'sip-files00006.jp2'
d47878548d2e4830437790079e050050
c2de2647d8e509bff19395eae0021d902c8d1093
'2011-11-14T21:37:01-05:00'
describe
'21384' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNE' 'sip-files00006.jpg'
eaf0aacb5b387025488800e342bc2ec0
5eb51b26c60349ce8d89b9c99daeec53053f7737
'2011-11-14T21:40:24-05:00'
describe
'3987' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNF' 'sip-files00006.QC.jpg'
5afa9821898068d72d22cbcead937155
3d28eba739049bdd3f764fe1ddd99aa27f47c35b
'2011-11-14T21:37:33-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNG' 'sip-files00006.tif'
a8c8005f6a73449e0f323d1ef7441500
b1c33abd014edb26f7592de942fff7e78a460a98
'2011-11-14T21:34:54-05:00'
describe
'1144' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNH' 'sip-files00006thm.jpg'
cd2a9b0c01e710510fd95baa6d8cd235
822a560ad7547d6430da33856ad50fc24b03fedf
'2011-11-14T21:38:43-05:00'
describe
'445855' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNI' 'sip-files00008.jp2'
582b2f5d9591d2865a5bf5b87e1d2f64
b5984e396035006aaafed852a4cefd517b48c5c0
'2011-11-14T21:37:52-05:00'
describe
'142538' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNJ' 'sip-files00008.jpg'
98c64d7c5fe688833b35b780c2adc2e4
363f5aa4c46bdf72a6c2861f87c8f2856864f55f
'2011-11-14T21:36:11-05:00'
describe
'500' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNK' 'sip-files00008.pro'
ca223b859da734e1fc8394165a083b64
e399f0627d7af61d35b9f4069e12b3c1160837c7
'2011-11-14T21:38:12-05:00'
describe
'29969' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNL' 'sip-files00008.QC.jpg'
8216118ae8507cf84c1360b814415452
f3828861fb076a6d81b2785a0300e87d13ba8956
'2011-11-14T21:39:12-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNM' 'sip-files00008.tif'
af2b22b4df70a6e58f1a107e7cdb59cc
fb4c7c31396e3c64e090d4866cb7dccc60e5e2d8
'2011-11-14T21:35:10-05:00'
describe
'36' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNN' 'sip-files00008.txt'
99816e84521d301bd32eb8ce1ef4a77e
872fa898fa21d152cd645f1a13fdcf1e1c04354f
'2011-11-14T21:35:46-05:00'
describe
WARNING CODE 'Daitss::Anomaly' Invalid character
'6333' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNO' 'sip-files00008thm.jpg'
e2cc7063aedaff72d909b865a26c335c
44a44e6de85c545e9563687765a5f64328c001cf
'2011-11-14T21:41:19-05:00'
describe
'445914' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNP' 'sip-files00011.jp2'
7078f16a6f52033fee2286a79793ab3b
1eae74f71e331c373a1559ea5560b563aeb94479
'2011-11-14T21:34:18-05:00'
describe
'88689' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNQ' 'sip-files00011.jpg'
af93aea73a88f47d7d48c3b7bae0aa27
39c79ec32770f26f53ef1ad3c3a405ff471483e8
'2011-11-14T21:33:31-05:00'
describe
'7080' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNR' 'sip-files00011.pro'
22968286fffedb96d9186d23d7646532
d0b08cdfefafd11dd99a0f839bfdea1a64193cfe
'2011-11-14T21:33:25-05:00'
describe
'20727' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNS' 'sip-files00011.QC.jpg'
cbdb13526a17d65f13d4ba24d8e1069a
154c1dedc1439ab1aaf2d982bd0b8bdd9169d8d5
describe
'10720132' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNT' 'sip-files00011.tif'
d9652c4a211f71f34594bf5471e69b5a
020b5829b5c5eef145988155498bf358193bc145
'2011-11-14T21:33:55-05:00'
describe
'387' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNU' 'sip-files00011.txt'
db716330870f86e2b7b14a7a1731c537
893607fe391ce6fba928baa9eb56372ef924cd0c
'2011-11-14T21:39:01-05:00'
describe
'5836' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNV' 'sip-files00011thm.jpg'
4afe41c66ba7ab948a5a9e02e9263486
18d08ee33ea01d4e74d355c3f3c1710adea622ed
'2011-11-14T21:37:45-05:00'
describe
'445901' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNW' 'sip-files00012.jp2'
0a10af54e88b83f52454230119762d8a
3a51514854937630b9fab7feb0b8ad76ec66f9c7
'2011-11-14T21:33:35-05:00'
describe
'28454' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNX' 'sip-files00012.jpg'
8877d629a09900e403c1d11f2d5600e5
d5752f52e7f2f45120425a9c9d28f5fe4d91e8a0
'2011-11-14T21:42:17-05:00'
describe
'5607' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNY' 'sip-files00012.pro'
426fd192c74bd0d54a664f4655a9b6c5
131125f2f44b52e4bbb3a01756c567a4d63dfb37
'2011-11-14T21:36:36-05:00'
describe
'6895' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHNZ' 'sip-files00012.QC.jpg'
a7a47c0093f01150581da66b0c496bdf
ef5ef2d8b318f8bed37fbd44b9ebe2cc99b511e0
'2011-11-14T21:37:29-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOA' 'sip-files00012.tif'
cb4535692592a0663099527de4e282ae
f28a06f49dafc1240a2473b51c7a05f6afe39476
'2011-11-14T21:42:13-05:00'
describe
'396' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOB' 'sip-files00012.txt'
218867499561df495b5ce5ec09567794
61ab4d178378608215b4e6bacf27187cef9db700
'2011-11-14T21:38:40-05:00'
describe
'1913' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOC' 'sip-files00012thm.jpg'
2a3ea71d77e982b378bd4fe1a85e5794
acd7e12a7ed6506976226a36b2b001fe47a9c04e
'2011-11-14T21:37:36-05:00'
describe
'445902' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOD' 'sip-files00013.jp2'
ddeb49d65544b920c02f3cf40d1909e3
413ab6ce0aeef4ecb9cc061aaa532c9887c6be77
'2011-11-14T21:34:07-05:00'
describe
'70936' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOE' 'sip-files00013.jpg'
87f484b4f8167293a2d572e08c2ad20e
5b496f9293fe3bb4ef8efbea7afb26343e0d8660
'2011-11-14T21:33:39-05:00'
describe
'43563' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOF' 'sip-files00013.pro'
27749cdc13213b59e35879d2f08a3036
70f948a0332480e7156103ce25959f6dbb67a0de
'2011-11-14T21:38:04-05:00'
describe
'23113' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOG' 'sip-files00013.QC.jpg'
d133208f1032672d5b1f2b3dfc289217
5909530615328d5704476c69d5dc2527f01c2057
'2011-11-14T21:37:18-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOH' 'sip-files00013.tif'
3443461c9475240574e66e09440a0485
dbdb58bfb3b0c68133f26965a2845931e8c5b647
'2011-11-14T21:41:46-05:00'
describe
'1962' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOI' 'sip-files00013.txt'
1af7ca918b736bd0a209b09d1f0ae6f0
8eaa03d7c761da212b4b4198b67b4c4c894ebe69
'2011-11-14T21:33:58-05:00'
describe
'4982' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOJ' 'sip-files00013thm.jpg'
c72a03c6e86d4d611278823e14b5dee7
edcdc4aed68e0392eccbcb4038a0e732b97c94c4
'2011-11-14T21:38:34-05:00'
describe
'445912' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOK' 'sip-files00014.jp2'
4f90bb2be258e73e6e6e39730650d781
2183f4b8e80b62a84054afcb2e6c57d4df565435
'2011-11-14T21:36:45-05:00'
describe
'82732' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOL' 'sip-files00014.jpg'
cbe29e950fc11e0661095802fa9e1f26
5e7c610b853a7ff67a822fb6c520052c9b7709d6
'2011-11-14T21:40:32-05:00'
describe
'31303' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOM' 'sip-files00014.pro'
f2ed213019f017fb414435a44b729d87
2800825b6f385625b277a43660840422882bf0a4
'2011-11-14T21:39:37-05:00'
describe
'25353' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHON' 'sip-files00014.QC.jpg'
46f14413b1831b92a1e6dcc9be38ed69
51058bc21c946327b49d0ef13bc034d52729602f
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOO' 'sip-files00014.tif'
d21b40be75974c4481ab5f51a2b57635
48d4ef0287f7a5a138921559afa9ead403723c55
'2011-11-14T21:35:55-05:00'
describe
'1482' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOP' 'sip-files00014.txt'
a739495ac84ddaf80e77f1a17923cdf8
8f862738cd5af0963684d68068c83d14f1d18650
'2011-11-14T21:37:38-05:00'
describe
'5623' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOQ' 'sip-files00014thm.jpg'
11cf11190dbef021bf9054e6333ac17d
f544e82caa9fe1cded3dfb413a44e0eb955162a0
'2011-11-14T21:33:15-05:00'
describe
'445876' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOR' 'sip-files00015.jp2'
17549cb322deccada692cf0d68c4e4a6
f810f6fdbb700c27dc26849886c2d96acd921cd9
'2011-11-14T21:38:10-05:00'
describe
'76786' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOS' 'sip-files00015.jpg'
ee88ca1504119f40aef077d6ea56721f
5ded5561fd96dad6e803730d1989846c2a2b00d8
'2011-11-14T21:38:15-05:00'
describe
'40183' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOT' 'sip-files00015.pro'
ed9267828d6c8a30333ea1d29895d529
e01c42f1a0229f96f5011e084c711ff29e60c7b8
'2011-11-14T21:41:35-05:00'
describe
'23559' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOU' 'sip-files00015.QC.jpg'
df3e7e419e15e83e77a0dafb4f02d5ed
47a78bd4560f739952bd85739df15fff8b85bed5
'2011-11-14T21:42:11-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOV' 'sip-files00015.tif'
4ccd4d0aceb10852165a374dacce3139
3f78bd9ad65e775dc43d12e11130890e42e5a7e5
describe
'1898' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOW' 'sip-files00015.txt'
01c880796b93381c4bd01c18b65c2d65
fc5c8d367a64203dc46acf0252e18ba22f33f184
describe
'5601' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOX' 'sip-files00015thm.jpg'
8105b4e9f9ec19af1d0efabeda240787
d4cfb827133eef44d0fe707d1d48eeef73c9896b
'2011-11-14T21:40:31-05:00'
describe
'446161' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOY' 'sip-files00016.jp2'
1d8aa174e65b1858b4210394a5ba41f9
d7d5010820cacb1bceb0a80919afceb0266db974
'2011-11-14T21:39:07-05:00'
describe
'108570' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHOZ' 'sip-files00016.jpg'
e86e858e84c3151fa7f366841a059775
b79cd181acf245b0637aff019cc5aec66d6d3aed
'2011-11-14T21:38:36-05:00'
describe
'54806' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPA' 'sip-files00016.pro'
4681e35b1163fdc5f77c7d1863ff6d25
12139232c536e8e10926f954cc9aa2b117cfe079
'2011-11-14T21:40:41-05:00'
describe
'31489' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPB' 'sip-files00016.QC.jpg'
aa022ca3ef6e36703fb47a31e6cdc23a
d95f286d9418e200b70a770ec27a0dc339660629
'2011-11-14T21:35:23-05:00'
describe
'3586004' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPC' 'sip-files00016.tif'
ad43e2be1a12f3271b2dbce73b88ec1c
9c1fff8757139458fb6de7c3fad9d3de55a2c1bb
'2011-11-14T21:33:57-05:00'
describe
'2275' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPD' 'sip-files00016.txt'
805d86b264adbc5e159a6ac89b1c96fd
d0efe2552087b7868408b8811a31c13f52f2eaa8
describe
'6786' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPE' 'sip-files00016thm.jpg'
42000616c1d828c98f0c3ddd3a1d6cb8
3a71b4cdbf1c9be872aa9abf522c0f23fae723ae
'2011-11-14T21:33:33-05:00'
describe
'445836' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPF' 'sip-files00017.jp2'
51db04ac42456991d29f6d9cad45b1fa
e57cdd1b5c6e2156aa7256aece0c657876451da6
'2011-11-14T21:42:10-05:00'
describe
'88969' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPG' 'sip-files00017.jpg'
c0bc9927345446a858d8a8df4e4cd67e
cbcafe4798fdc9d1ba11484697f3978827e84d7c
'2011-11-14T21:36:34-05:00'
describe
'12144' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPH' 'sip-files00017.pro'
06771572fe98b5431735b49e6926c8e6
aac957b12e3d1c58d04f910b30800846dd2bc00c
'2011-11-14T21:34:47-05:00'
describe
'24885' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPI' 'sip-files00017.QC.jpg'
5c556ffc29aa16f4640327ddeb832524
5babeae79fe96374a7a3fc7d93c48dbc4bf8d53e
'2011-11-14T21:34:29-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPJ' 'sip-files00017.tif'
65599767537f590fadec9c10ba4e469e
771ddd3b3cb460e9940fcb7e1980ad5e3bf60790
'2011-11-14T21:33:42-05:00'
describe
'580' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPK' 'sip-files00017.txt'
0e90ac1dd0a4bfd23cea0de1de9d6cda
c70201615094471e1348531c69f31b360a807f87
'2011-11-14T21:35:47-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'6165' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPL' 'sip-files00017thm.jpg'
09e3d9422a8e057a1e268d11ff209811
17485a8b1d311ab3f686db4c6742126e82f095cb
'2011-11-14T21:35:14-05:00'
describe
'445045' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPM' 'sip-files00018.jp2'
db4f204a9bef4454d60c4dccc0281834
84bc01c9753276ac3048e8f3cfc9ed7ba5913c0b
'2011-11-14T21:37:41-05:00'
describe
'57209' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPN' 'sip-files00018.jpg'
00d8c5089747ce5fbbb103a66e3308e0
3f4a6f879f00107d4bc7592157a0ae02603a2ff2
'2011-11-14T21:33:11-05:00'
describe
'15165' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPO' 'sip-files00018.pro'
297f6f5a7279199e443006783871c96a
5863b15c8aa9d52e08b16e98402d112c812dcc60
'2011-11-14T21:37:05-05:00'
describe
'16396' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPP' 'sip-files00018.QC.jpg'
cdb3ddd8469a99fec7db822ab441532e
6bbfe801442cfde91b6a4e8b6e14fde50094b21e
'2011-11-14T21:34:46-05:00'
describe
'3576816' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPQ' 'sip-files00018.tif'
5ab1a50260163e7729516221a2c680c3
b7a71a5a178fd833fd0ad26941718b900f1b3599
'2011-11-14T21:41:52-05:00'
describe
'606' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPR' 'sip-files00018.txt'
da09e54528530e4eb59947c47d99bea6
42cd76520800af7cf8192caad51f86dc03779a62
describe
'4181' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPS' 'sip-files00018thm.jpg'
f368cdf15ec3b028016d56df08a1b14e
125878625b54296ef9df03d7316a1fe0bac81aaf
'2011-11-14T21:33:38-05:00'
describe
'446155' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPT' 'sip-files00020.jp2'
f1ce854a11f11bcfa2212910c346acf5
869e94e35a2dc10924652ef3993bd57caa9ed92f
'2011-11-14T21:42:01-05:00'
describe
'115873' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPU' 'sip-files00020.jpg'
99979db23f81e02bff6c901d754b644d
b5354015c7809c362dd99ca0ebaf9a165449ed28
'2011-11-14T21:42:25-05:00'
describe
'2017' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPV' 'sip-files00020.pro'
9cff784d7e2bfa5d57955b51e5bd2be3
a8eb3f67277cb314ce5eda8c38ed9741435eb0e7
'2011-11-14T21:40:05-05:00'
describe
'26435' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPW' 'sip-files00020.QC.jpg'
ff8cf63fa693100951194e6d79a0e1a5
a64005c8c0d58fe751b84a2a844b9b04d3ec4630
'2011-11-14T21:41:12-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPX' 'sip-files00020.tif'
ab297b24689e7c8440a4e56616299b03
fb9da667427bc6e08e14ee98badd90b812b9bed2
'2011-11-14T21:37:35-05:00'
describe
'248' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPY' 'sip-files00020.txt'
b15635ddd37604e4115b4b5530f8249b
bdc942883863f5b5d8cafb778a745b40a213eaae
'2011-11-14T21:37:09-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'6402' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHPZ' 'sip-files00020thm.jpg'
49066c1b010fb23d53132d5d718052cc
6d237665b1e5e589ec289c74a8475d5cf489977e
'2011-11-14T21:37:28-05:00'
describe
'445875' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQA' 'sip-files00021.jp2'
dca0af415093a1102672f249d0777849
bd23f2aace61eef0d158cf615da1ea9077a0a05a
'2011-11-14T21:41:13-05:00'
describe
'106925' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQB' 'sip-files00021.jpg'
96ec39863e44b9ae3aa72d9665d46d51
79d383b6ae435482e42ec8903363603aae1de161
'2011-11-14T21:35:54-05:00'
describe
'35577' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQC' 'sip-files00021.pro'
276672c93bc33849e7187418f0514de9
2aa91a0c141b4f58ea5e6c10c3d03be4c2e862fd
'2011-11-14T21:35:01-05:00'
describe
'30625' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQD' 'sip-files00021.QC.jpg'
5d0500d71e3921a593c5f3ab549ff265
bd6169fb79e12986624e8246c42d55b866de5656
'2011-11-14T21:35:19-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQE' 'sip-files00021.tif'
eddeab0230680097d4f922cbf90295d4
0f15ea41042b58831356eff26861cb166fe158c2
'2011-11-14T21:37:31-05:00'
describe
'1557' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQF' 'sip-files00021.txt'
1b5101db0bce0791fbb8d7b423189680
94d111b6c6fb9e052a87e0ed7acf5fa210ab37e6
describe
'7309' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQG' 'sip-files00021thm.jpg'
be880e656ece71a4b07f1ce4a85b493f
18548ee37c5f4010e982a1030e45c5fc81e17e9f
'2011-11-14T21:38:02-05:00'
describe
'445898' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQH' 'sip-files00022.jp2'
a1a48e240c43116ba20397bd3c5b955e
a084c32a2ca1906aa083172a8165263d999096b9
'2011-11-14T21:34:51-05:00'
describe
'151397' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQI' 'sip-files00022.jpg'
b78767bf98f318ed3f1684466b17a9a2
3022601578c7a24dbe13f1501c98f3f527ec04f2
'2011-11-14T21:34:26-05:00'
describe
'54408' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQJ' 'sip-files00022.pro'
e61e2574768ec978d7ca60dd10008c97
1cbd8f69879fd52e9c51e200c6924175d83a2d89
'2011-11-14T21:39:59-05:00'
describe
'43687' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQK' 'sip-files00022.QC.jpg'
47aec6b18d20574be30f7d211c625ba5
1fdf9630dfbe219f4ccfd7dc1521269722ebdfd0
'2011-11-14T21:35:37-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQL' 'sip-files00022.tif'
57195d1a79cb70d831e50c6e573639ff
56a2bafaad7dd1f4641782d226f3e47beb881af5
'2011-11-14T21:34:01-05:00'
describe
'2139' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQM' 'sip-files00022.txt'
a5dbc6ab0f84e47303c0929ebfbe4782
e9cbd2aa37c20dea0c11a55673c095457b35903f
'2011-11-14T21:38:03-05:00'
describe
'9791' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQN' 'sip-files00022thm.jpg'
66658f123cf0443b615d6bde3692c786
ddf6acc0d2148b55a8b90ba6bc68a946ac9ec0ec
'2011-11-14T21:37:00-05:00'
describe
'445770' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQO' 'sip-files00023.jp2'
fd26a5ca0cb50272c883bed0593edc76
91d04848d82972bb92940444634bd2c072e98032
'2011-11-14T21:41:07-05:00'
describe
'68997' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQP' 'sip-files00023.jpg'
9b860c0a81b216ecd08d71fb10dc0284
e0253ba6b79dd9ca3b24f57acbd04724aba52cdd
'2011-11-14T21:40:48-05:00'
describe
'3244' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQQ' 'sip-files00023.pro'
8f3aa083c657501ac2cb15536bcdb798
c2ee0fa3cc930a6abe18776922e9afcbb4d1d16d
'2011-11-14T21:34:36-05:00'
describe
'15884' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQR' 'sip-files00023.QC.jpg'
4369ff786183a271c0434d14612d7141
59780e21622bebe807f4b8204bcf1112dbc7d48b
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQS' 'sip-files00023.tif'
a24012e377e09f16856718620e952dbc
44aa79d2e287b5dab477e8e6394211a76eb640a4
describe
'308' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQT' 'sip-files00023.txt'
5a549d48d856d41eb2eeb7c821eb316b
c2725a0c9f3d38cb2e129199e7ae97dab2a6c796
'2011-11-14T21:37:37-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'3901' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQU' 'sip-files00023thm.jpg'
0e437be9f6a214ec106872b814aa3e1a
1d1e72a78f0462cc16a8b6a82887d1ef8e3bd8c9
'2011-11-14T21:36:16-05:00'
describe
'445881' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQV' 'sip-files00025.jp2'
dfb010aedf9216219cc9660bd828d423
33524012995efe62b35058263f3bb9e553932ec3
'2011-11-14T21:39:14-05:00'
describe
'127896' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQW' 'sip-files00025.jpg'
51aab9668acaa2718d2df1bb718783b2
b5676b5eb772b27ec284668265516ab47acf38e1
'2011-11-14T21:38:37-05:00'
describe
'45411' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQX' 'sip-files00025.pro'
b7bd6ed15a92b302a1a809fa97aba32e
683db4cdf21e019364c433860d65a2805a5c3d32
'2011-11-14T21:40:30-05:00'
describe
'37350' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQY' 'sip-files00025.QC.jpg'
d1e1b74096dec69418d31ec4066ab4fa
72a7f94431c073f65b6fe850b2b993257bba6446
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHQZ' 'sip-files00025.tif'
a99deb7e30fdcf84d4c9701aaec9ab30
4c45d29b4d312b4ccf6bb72971e61ce3a416944e
'2011-11-14T21:37:12-05:00'
describe
'1924' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRA' 'sip-files00025.txt'
0c05e8d22bd24702e69891a899739a89
bf7cbe1b8533ad82f2770c02650460dff35e9328
'2011-11-14T21:39:25-05:00'
describe
'8541' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRB' 'sip-files00025thm.jpg'
015d44ee407ade7e36cd2d2d5178ba25
ec08b95e3a07050b6b4c292c8feed9ae571b503d
'2011-11-14T21:36:56-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRC' 'sip-files00026.jp2'
a87db02e85f7070e9f003674405050a4
b7228384ae099194473bfd62a23491fc6fcedfcd
'2011-11-14T21:38:41-05:00'
describe
'124233' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRD' 'sip-files00026.jpg'
cc0d052dda3098c7fdcdae367509221c
c6cc1e620be56a4715482b3d0565a66e2f414c73
'2011-11-14T21:34:10-05:00'
describe
'44271' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRE' 'sip-files00026.pro'
1059ecad52bfe020087c391aaf6c345f
ae7a673026471f145cb630bb43cf5d745c423bb0
'2011-11-14T21:37:23-05:00'
describe
'36089' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRF' 'sip-files00026.QC.jpg'
9d1b3eeaefe9cf62cdf673df2df1645a
29ee2dd0136c1f87ccb7071f8534e8a66626c84b
'2011-11-14T21:33:40-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRG' 'sip-files00026.tif'
7a5522904990629a1eb47c6af68cc29c
635b4edaffa46606bad52c70c27b5276685e1f90
'2011-11-14T21:34:24-05:00'
describe
'1836' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRH' 'sip-files00026.txt'
e4f409e7a58dbbaf3e74bc19b1f71133
7cb0a4cab19354aba4cba7e769c4cfacecebc145
'2011-11-14T21:42:29-05:00'
describe
'8758' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRI' 'sip-files00026thm.jpg'
95a2cc18a4b7edb5804e55b3c9e13e6a
85c5e7b0d08a76e46eedcf0c1e1a2953841d2a4b
'2011-11-14T21:34:56-05:00'
describe
'445892' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRJ' 'sip-files00027.jp2'
25f1e6c82314656f7c28944bc95b8740
a7060086432b2f3837f6baaaa165607a71838a62
describe
'140186' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRK' 'sip-files00027.jpg'
df8ba3bc9d72f46fa047bb0b5a381d33
e03174cba101b7b79686af4301ceaf914294601e
'2011-11-14T21:33:47-05:00'
describe
'49355' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRL' 'sip-files00027.pro'
5e1ed12245d6700ac80b16cce1ac91a4
49c4ed9dc37518e5ce89c2272c419488c8902d26
'2011-11-14T21:33:10-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRM' 'sip-files00027.QC.jpg'
fb0292625e254f8e38d5e43d64aa2a95
1474f74241018dbeb5b0b706fdc45fa9659cae06
'2011-11-14T21:40:59-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRN' 'sip-files00027.tif'
2cb0e7ad09c4bec7f18c904fc5d8adfe
415761d6515faf499091456265d150bd40d79032
'2011-11-14T21:42:27-05:00'
describe
'2015' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRO' 'sip-files00027.txt'
304439786feab62a290444f72df6a749
d1bcd1bf3fba6fd0850c60035652c607459c404d
'2011-11-14T21:33:07-05:00'
describe
'9073' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRP' 'sip-files00027thm.jpg'
145d66efb659960eecdec59c8d5a4f02
0d7ca21a8e16fe58e1773f4e90dd2bdb2bca9766
'2011-11-14T21:36:41-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRQ' 'sip-files00028.jp2'
1258324088448e5674e4a9a7c02670ad
194ff11f0ebdb4faa536a681448205cb14e744d0
'2011-11-14T21:38:57-05:00'
describe
'140543' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRR' 'sip-files00028.jpg'
a8eb8946552f594c10ed32d4edaffd73
1ac40f8a4593f4ae8494110512505cf082223754
describe
'51689' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRS' 'sip-files00028.pro'
b06065dad1794e990faecee1a9b96d77
0717ca875d48e724ad274332eab0749253bba12e
'2011-11-14T21:39:18-05:00'
describe
'40438' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRT' 'sip-files00028.QC.jpg'
14ff412a19985f88233fffcbcbec11e9
d7f1fd8c06ef65a5ab95eab8da71adecef842f2d
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRU' 'sip-files00028.tif'
27bd13012ad27fee73b1838b39b8cd5d
093bf6d2485ff2f9b8185be1fe3d6b073c5aa649
'2011-11-14T21:39:05-05:00'
describe
'2040' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRV' 'sip-files00028.txt'
d8d040a88f3b4e14937b9a96e6d5e20b
8dae93bec1a9cb6218df731e1b67463ffaf64815
'2011-11-14T21:37:03-05:00'
describe
'9284' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRW' 'sip-files00028thm.jpg'
7f76d3275c0809c9b4ee88699e2efdb5
7a3139963590422ef85953bfe686f82077cd68e9
'2011-11-14T21:35:28-05:00'
describe
'445764' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRX' 'sip-files00029.jp2'
caa67320633a4739b5845e5ef89ca68b
8c767f91c018e6377b199cbb87a6c01a68cf6522
describe
'127789' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRY' 'sip-files00029.jpg'
80a5128056756dee6a0ccb768ab2ece5
147dcc55a9743f42167167af478fc9777c2c2d60
'2011-11-14T21:40:04-05:00'
describe
'2491' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHRZ' 'sip-files00029.pro'
8c1dbc256d9d32b7b25f58c0b889b932
65440a4ae60fdfd79e0ba9b4289e297f2191ca5c
describe
'28247' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSA' 'sip-files00029.QC.jpg'
2a8768129c25edaf697abf272c838f43
90feb1d02c9da28c50fcf7724f0bc856ab37d876
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSB' 'sip-files00029.tif'
fbedda743d6ea44d2cbf6aa3abc9b1f5
f34ff92e167d14eb98493869a8a3e69e4ef157da
'2011-11-14T21:35:06-05:00'
describe
'225' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSC' 'sip-files00029.txt'
6c21b34d7ca72f31426376c2bc63fa33
69ff3c3fd80d757653d7fd7711a28b369dc6d1c4
describe
'6604' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSD' 'sip-files00029thm.jpg'
c2feda859d63734381bbb42568d1bab2
38e3d9ad61849b9bb4389edc2591db388a58898f
'2011-11-14T21:40:11-05:00'
describe
'445872' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSE' 'sip-files00031.jp2'
e4cfe5448e242e33c0b2b0c5b23eab9c
d03a964ed580b98fe507544a158fa37d9f9904dd
'2011-11-14T21:35:53-05:00'
describe
'139760' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSF' 'sip-files00031.jpg'
998be836cf25ed70dd5c008a3ae3c840
b0ce80b2eceece7e59a8cef299467479ae7a361b
'2011-11-14T21:37:39-05:00'
describe
'49343' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSG' 'sip-files00031.pro'
0cd4daddcd861e26263cbe26f0162c97
700afeef083cc1d7a700934a7218aacc23b90331
'2011-11-14T21:40:00-05:00'
describe
'39900' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSH' 'sip-files00031.QC.jpg'
a6d83873818f0a03b6daf54a0452f5bc
a6e5db06f34d6925543020fb6cdd8b4462b05204
'2011-11-14T21:40:46-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSI' 'sip-files00031.tif'
7a8a5ad49d78757935329131147ddcc1
95d24d4b44131e7f18821ec745a92915317d223c
describe
'2026' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSJ' 'sip-files00031.txt'
4bf9976007bff6b799573fc644399f24
b40dd051e3b26ede7accf2c17af556a4995b63ba
describe
'8966' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSK' 'sip-files00031thm.jpg'
d933e6671cca42958e9c0f88c9fb2e33
49b66ea191736375081f00bc0fc6456ed9e8ba0b
describe
'445850' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSL' 'sip-files00032.jp2'
bfb55499c69948d73873289c87a95c10
5f97b465f23f4b0bcf809289de55f98228558590
'2011-11-14T21:35:58-05:00'
describe
'144112' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSM' 'sip-files00032.jpg'
325bb30adda5078f027b7b058674cb95
6078faf55e70742c54326804187617071f59277d
describe
'52903' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSN' 'sip-files00032.pro'
006b73284ecf8e9419bab4410aac3785
ab4c3a7a1257c169fadd6f520736f306476df021
'2011-11-14T21:33:29-05:00'
describe
'40881' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSO' 'sip-files00032.QC.jpg'
f63e919b86fed501ffb6ddfacdd5fa31
2d7e0896ab1f67c650c01a95ca8ffe49b7f4c909
'2011-11-14T21:39:04-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSP' 'sip-files00032.tif'
6b8d34ba89eb8c873ded48434d051770
8a43d15906e6a9eb705ad74fd24278de813c11c4
'2011-11-14T21:36:35-05:00'
describe
'2126' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSQ' 'sip-files00032.txt'
af9dcf97b74a02f51c1a4657a897455c
3a10cbfedec94e05d7f2907f245c6b16e389d031
'2011-11-14T21:36:54-05:00'
describe
'9076' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSR' 'sip-files00032thm.jpg'
3bbb845b05303f86520a3e99e0e2c60d
c59f1286b22b485897ac69520d7e5d1eabb2cd3b
'2011-11-14T21:41:50-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSS' 'sip-files00033.jp2'
63249ec458ad08b99562d9d42a9db1d5
1a5369a666dd020f51aef6029f87ae5d992cb46c
'2011-11-14T21:40:06-05:00'
describe
'134051' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHST' 'sip-files00033.jpg'
52ae96af43412eae9aa46384bd085289
4d219e8b76484b1dd6ca3221bb679aea03606200
describe
'46399' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSU' 'sip-files00033.pro'
62a46e329baca49b9501fa60251d414f
e41b49db08bbfc61580b6af346dea1be6a1ecd0a
'2011-11-14T21:41:01-05:00'
describe
'38766' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSV' 'sip-files00033.QC.jpg'
495bffb5caddc02a6c6b31ecaeb82726
6d6bcc4be6fc5e21d591c264773815c222d8bd15
'2011-11-14T21:37:24-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSW' 'sip-files00033.tif'
010c0fae2c50e5055edfe6e8e554ce8b
b12ba68c3bbbd4a95ff48efb03035888d1326b79
describe
'1914' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSX' 'sip-files00033.txt'
f163fd773ac8b6da4e6290783b96a1fa
de91aee19bc69665c7ee19e3d56e3eaed706f586
'2011-11-14T21:36:09-05:00'
describe
'8943' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSY' 'sip-files00033thm.jpg'
40c5c9130e1b715274672098ed05ad25
3d212eae2a42afbd59d375f17dfbd5b2b75dd793
'2011-11-14T21:41:28-05:00'
describe
'446189' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHSZ' 'sip-files00034.jp2'
bf2d2012b9947304f6b65e74a101db6c
915dbe1ae35ef1445b44d9cdd9f3b8a0e055cb2c
'2011-11-14T21:39:52-05:00'
describe
'121869' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTA' 'sip-files00034.jpg'
4b3d9b2b85a571c22c70b9c5d8db127f
f0e5694f9a40f6100b6d3fd0dc975d9f0ea8fb29
'2011-11-14T21:39:51-05:00'
describe
'40373' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTB' 'sip-files00034.pro'
9908085c8d427a978ca2e36a53f785e3
b68eb4630a468f9f7dbafdfe83b00fc292cbb7b3
'2011-11-14T21:38:09-05:00'
describe
'34592' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTC' 'sip-files00034.QC.jpg'
e3d349adbd0d84801c9579cf80391e42
8c67924fda93a188ab55bddfed8948627fc0739d
'2011-11-14T21:38:18-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTD' 'sip-files00034.tif'
353657078024d4a449674ae3f0ef1e0a
7b71bfb7a5647ee18e470ffbe8c4815b46ca8f0d
'2011-11-14T21:39:56-05:00'
describe
'1734' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTE' 'sip-files00034.txt'
3c7824bfd884431f42dec94bc6b71524
49351988e7a90fc7fca41799aa102bd99b1598dd
'2011-11-14T21:33:56-05:00'
describe
'8454' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTF' 'sip-files00034thm.jpg'
ead48a9d04b0d53518b8bdc374770290
cc16138b2cc691821157b02109b8ed75c0cb89d3
'2011-11-14T21:34:43-05:00'
describe
'445990' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTG' 'sip-files00035.jp2'
40dd2cbd33d438ba0484207d0a3fac0c
a6f5243dc23729a9855e3556a6df137a0ae4f0cd
'2011-11-14T21:41:40-05:00'
describe
'142119' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTH' 'sip-files00035.jpg'
6d1cbc339bc2207896ffa59fccc2401c
be0a7d73234ba122739594ae50122110d3a43706
describe
'3481' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTI' 'sip-files00035.pro'
c018ebbe2a12d2091af0559bcfb7de91
4deea4cd9782f4f747a2eba310c6cc19d02dd8c1
'2011-11-14T21:33:21-05:00'
describe
'30902' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTJ' 'sip-files00035.QC.jpg'
dceeaa0ee342670e40714284e040456b
61bf935b56d7f562a5879d8602be92389a815553
'2011-11-14T21:33:16-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTK' 'sip-files00035.tif'
32db76610eb5328c8f24d53979132feb
8e461ef846435404362d2327de5c725ceb981fc8
'2011-11-14T21:40:54-05:00'
describe
'259' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTL' 'sip-files00035.txt'
f3de098b26a293b774f22b89e815983e
826b60b74dd9e5dd86af119f4483805d2004bfc6
'2011-11-14T21:36:28-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'6845' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTM' 'sip-files00035thm.jpg'
4d54a07406ec59f96f76625bfdc22a7b
bd554e3d0e96f10f35b365a2bdc9134ce39d5f73
'2011-11-14T21:35:51-05:00'
describe
'446186' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTN' 'sip-files00037.jp2'
0ca72a1e0e141dc08f4b5346e2f5c711
e5f436c0c4c598ed09d9c33bef6a5567d94ce865
'2011-11-14T21:40:02-05:00'
describe
'145178' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTO' 'sip-files00037.jpg'
bbc8a3628cfc735802a468d0d81a68b9
668c3bb1af4a812c27b6f4bfee3b9802247ea848
'2011-11-14T21:33:30-05:00'
describe
'50911' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTP' 'sip-files00037.pro'
e47b19d8384c3f49d59fd4d374f2c5c8
bd611b6c5d4ba385eba07bfdf61a26413c20a76e
'2011-11-14T21:36:07-05:00'
describe
'41471' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTQ' 'sip-files00037.QC.jpg'
ef47c8dd1a82904ba7690c68ae326485
8530d1afeb2c97bb335c91cc7afcadb20bd773d1
'2011-11-14T21:34:35-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTR' 'sip-files00037.tif'
c974a161c45b5e693739066553e224a5
9beafe642da658c2c5d9b00611f8d942d67b87f6
'2011-11-14T21:40:52-05:00'
describe
'2082' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTS' 'sip-files00037.txt'
235c576cc29ea7b8a86484189b37900b
50226ef71d9a8879d7efe1f9d9ddccd0ac6d2a20
'2011-11-14T21:42:18-05:00'
describe
'9323' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTT' 'sip-files00037thm.jpg'
fda25c8696e8e6b836a3a47c0d208cda
694501602474881c10bee2a1e397e0aab89951cb
'2011-11-14T21:38:44-05:00'
describe
'446173' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTU' 'sip-files00038.jp2'
d480509d1f1f9002a61d4a376cb9f17b
ad6598627c52cb22b810f9ae8a42631d427d29ab
'2011-11-14T21:41:33-05:00'
describe
'122907' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTV' 'sip-files00038.jpg'
1914297321f24bfe2f939aa34aaddc06
a65d3a54cfac8da30e845aef364e2a391f230592
describe
'35510' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTW' 'sip-files00038.pro'
3468c1e20d567cb87b39fd712aaedf1c
09c19dca349daa2c2f81f61f91469b26462ee885
'2011-11-14T21:41:17-05:00'
describe
'35360' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTX' 'sip-files00038.QC.jpg'
e525942a7cb92eed5b35debda9f07a4e
d38141da8574fdb18dd82fee16bf8ff33f23f710
'2011-11-14T21:41:10-05:00'
describe
'3585996' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTY' 'sip-files00038.tif'
fd98833aeddbd9154fb569de8b9abcdf
7605c1b238cd9cdb2f7c6c6521ad2bcb644d0899
describe
'1835' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHTZ' 'sip-files00038.txt'
155b94ea925759decdbca81a98da11ab
ff7cde1a09ba92da49fed1b406172b4028dda751
'2011-11-14T21:39:32-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'8509' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUA' 'sip-files00038thm.jpg'
7d7a2ebfedce85b87eab2ff7db54def2
9a971b28f2f943a9903f663ca709b07bda4e1707
describe
'446153' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUB' 'sip-files00039.jp2'
95e3f37f18d5c7cf80db113cac9dcea4
e655c678f579f39df115a4824ce48b8e55e9f1c6
'2011-11-14T21:38:17-05:00'
describe
'136639' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUC' 'sip-files00039.jpg'
1ed7ebced0e8e7d4470a429a9c1d292c
9a833cf929c17fc6a265a14af29c8cfa79faa8e3
'2011-11-14T21:35:00-05:00'
describe
'49463' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUD' 'sip-files00039.pro'
a76969e5c11f761d294cfa79b508b55a
e6cd07f04b55d9f9c9db1841ccc0615b1f868ea9
'2011-11-14T21:42:28-05:00'
describe
'39557' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUE' 'sip-files00039.QC.jpg'
42719379699f69408048607dda096b89
8b67e36f4755c78167c6a49b2066bfdb5e7ec863
'2011-11-14T21:41:44-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUF' 'sip-files00039.tif'
0277e198fa694f260b8914b79dec45f6
0f339fbb182a3b29e9ec70c61f667f7e50fc8787
'2011-11-14T21:37:08-05:00'
describe
'1980' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUG' 'sip-files00039.txt'
b1b29da5fd4ef6fa23a5a973f8d6c889
57e7f7b548dba005bf25ac6543d1b06326767880
'2011-11-14T21:34:40-05:00'
describe
'8979' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUH' 'sip-files00039thm.jpg'
8316037b9ad955c8f22a3caf259fb8b7
24b41f348a47f97a86f8a243e92e13e40745bba1
'2011-11-14T21:34:02-05:00'
describe
'445910' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUI' 'sip-files00040.jp2'
866415c92d333982c0e2c3a7fb85cc8c
063e5856e9e536119c7b93195807c32796c7d193
'2011-11-14T21:34:48-05:00'
describe
'147710' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUJ' 'sip-files00040.jpg'
5cebd8415ba4ea8a797fb9b148d2eb65
6312d1d51676fa48d20444e7acf7c89fc4955ff1
'2011-11-14T21:39:08-05:00'
describe
'58252' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUK' 'sip-files00040.pro'
2ac84b05c19280aee7928f658f836caf
0c94dd0caece541abcc86cbb7d010d6b44e10ab7
'2011-11-14T21:40:25-05:00'
describe
'41935' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUL' 'sip-files00040.QC.jpg'
48a5df0a0ec7deb425fe3b7905f5bdc8
d8576426a1d5fa647ddad3fb1f1b6bbd45934a42
'2011-11-14T21:34:41-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUM' 'sip-files00040.tif'
562a6412cc5236fa777da059b7ef2515
195a3c90430431bceae88a9cfbd2df9ae6843d2c
describe
'2302' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUN' 'sip-files00040.txt'
689a9588798cf08bc5fb3476f3dadea3
c650ac61ac3e8d74d907f56c42486aee93dbe321
'2011-11-14T21:36:29-05:00'
describe
'9163' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUO' 'sip-files00040thm.jpg'
6dcf6be86dd5b7ff0f75195cdc39fe4c
b0f254c47ff2ca85b2b69701347e0859d3b8e5a0
describe
'445886' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUP' 'sip-files00041.jp2'
a4887d375848408c2806f0ec0ceb5554
d54e3035863679a306ef2b4a512d0e1514bb40e6
'2011-11-14T21:41:15-05:00'
describe
'154170' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUQ' 'sip-files00041.jpg'
4a76a97f63e2ef9c31a3b486788e2b8a
68dd09f11d2cac059fe4791454fbbbfd5e129b15
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUR' 'sip-files00041.pro'
aa7d34a80737aa555b9297a7f17393d2
ba3c00fc5ba1eb230e468a5fe80c3274705f6b60
describe
'33736' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUS' 'sip-files00041.QC.jpg'
e6db4069b1022ba9f2f6b690a3c9706e
ca080ad51ca567c74fdab1648f0b2718ad874ca6
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUT' 'sip-files00041.tif'
a704c05bbf4782ec9e574d24cadec3b3
62cd65b383174cfc2b9e33f4661ec20920b9411d
'2011-11-14T21:36:50-05:00'
describe
'87' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUU' 'sip-files00041.txt'
6dc3f2d3ac44080fcca0b0542735dabb
ceeac3bddf2c45d8fdf2c3572da3300e3d063034
'2011-11-14T21:36:22-05:00'
describe
'7778' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUV' 'sip-files00041thm.jpg'
fd3307eb0fc1ae6db1dd5e90ca287648
4fec1abb2d458cdb0f88d58bc854a33e7935ce34
describe
'445906' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUW' 'sip-files00043.jp2'
0bf59276fbeed08f1f1a66d38d10260a
a727e090b89fd30c06a69d7214a6b0baba388c12
describe
'128893' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUX' 'sip-files00043.jpg'
afd1aaa4ebb081dcb31b1e39f8ef9e36
2c2c73cac6fa2804d90c2a3e133693e139c2c8e5
describe
'44693' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUY' 'sip-files00043.pro'
53bbec2afe8446a2ef7332da9ea13af4
d480e6a396aba74e247ecdaf343da83f84894c40
describe
'36887' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHUZ' 'sip-files00043.QC.jpg'
7985b309d15f4bd20531fad87d5cf43b
1f7e07f9ec9edf958450d6b98c87f9d715f8ba8d
'2011-11-14T21:34:38-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVA' 'sip-files00043.tif'
8937aea725905fb37e02566384a2beec
02b45db5b78893bc9321c32ec1ab258980d19859
'2011-11-14T21:41:38-05:00'
describe
'1900' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVB' 'sip-files00043.txt'
6fd3a9f0d2f8fb735eafba016c06a7cb
61a3cb5b2a347253d39ae12305d18784f8e13653
'2011-11-14T21:35:36-05:00'
describe
'8519' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVC' 'sip-files00043thm.jpg'
6b534ee29ff6f58375cf56f3c6b50992
a400f5d3f5bda8e14bfd61615097c606b7f9fb14
'2011-11-14T21:34:16-05:00'
describe
'445835' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVD' 'sip-files00044.jp2'
83a147c1f8013220a50d50cd9d10aa6f
e46df7e97899156e586259b2f0b2d856b59cb6ea
'2011-11-14T21:39:10-05:00'
describe
'148612' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVE' 'sip-files00044.jpg'
1c5c87fdcdc3b6094e800d454a6a2927
b39be6d070274a893036b74c26bd4b7136a01cc9
'2011-11-14T21:39:38-05:00'
describe
'54393' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVF' 'sip-files00044.pro'
bd3196479b4beba118834b52ab1bf7f8
4864ac900525594394bcb840b64c8160bbdd5ecb
describe
'41469' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVG' 'sip-files00044.QC.jpg'
448a93160d14af6ce2f2349f242c9f71
4912e04533c86a2d4675541bcd65914213b40c90
'2011-11-14T21:35:05-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVH' 'sip-files00044.tif'
debc05535e07181d494fc65ddf1aec63
7b99e85d1c285983cd5cf3478542e7589f0a1b28
describe
'2125' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVI' 'sip-files00044.txt'
b960beeabf97bd73d4e2e6cece73b8c9
9a19c899ddcbc0229976daae5952a274e731d481
'2011-11-14T21:33:05-05:00'
describe
'9554' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVJ' 'sip-files00044thm.jpg'
56592aac3842be8049533a87e58f15ca
753de7e9de45096549f529684f24f4cf56e4efab
'2011-11-14T21:33:51-05:00'
describe
'445752' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVK' 'sip-files00045.jp2'
53d18b751b25411fa2568560ff9a64dc
85125b3567ae20a7c083235dc3fd5481c25b0b23
'2011-11-14T21:38:35-05:00'
describe
'113396' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVL' 'sip-files00045.jpg'
94dec795ab47610f21133ade97eaf643
3968b350c76a0322b403c5003b75460ae1e2e34a
'2011-11-14T21:34:23-05:00'
describe
'2506' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVM' 'sip-files00045.pro'
952699a981c8f5bb68a7c0bf64997502
8658b0794b09bc288f916edc9b09e02a02abd5c8
'2011-11-14T21:41:37-05:00'
describe
'25892' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVN' 'sip-files00045.QC.jpg'
a1b9840b8283d62350059339cca0b25c
8cedfc295baae2470fd86e68035cbfd08330170e
'2011-11-14T21:36:43-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVO' 'sip-files00045.tif'
de6a08ad51b2a137631361e343059190
9c02d9224e7ad5dad9095b004d6b6177dbf3cc1e
'2011-11-14T21:34:27-05:00'
describe
'172' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVP' 'sip-files00045.txt'
6a3b0ca13603f54fa3e9443007283e8e
89f2ac7bbde94f3aba254bd037222436c5e25119
'2011-11-14T21:38:56-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'6194' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVQ' 'sip-files00045thm.jpg'
5531868e6f6e1a450fb9f8966764531f
f50e322008c1aafa9e9ba27725adf11523fc93fb
'2011-11-14T21:36:47-05:00'
describe
'445798' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVR' 'sip-files00047.jp2'
02318cdfcf11b65a41e3dae6f832d99f
745b28360423d9503b28b0ee27cc2da26f39701c
'2011-11-14T21:41:29-05:00'
describe
'127822' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVS' 'sip-files00047.jpg'
9364e03699c234634a050ddba7a7cfea
1fb5bee7b2d24f5d0a4fb2f085ab5d6b029dcc52
describe
'39537' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVT' 'sip-files00047.pro'
93e00544dc697a7e7b5c962340e4a3c9
5eee658378fbdd15096712c943097d044236cc23
'2011-11-14T21:40:18-05:00'
describe
'34705' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVU' 'sip-files00047.QC.jpg'
63203f957d530689f91bfcd57d1b20cb
bc3636cbf0baa07a4fdfdc4c44358c63ce465c9d
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVV' 'sip-files00047.tif'
790d61559929c1c81d6874414941ec5c
ad4dbbca3cba61bd7eac5e5578b9b23ed146d0d8
'2011-11-14T21:41:41-05:00'
describe
'1760' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVW' 'sip-files00047.txt'
9ed2c6bb1ff21395fdff25668a48b9f6
6ed20bb8ac673e6eae56da1649a7bdd8b7204b09
describe
'8391' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVX' 'sip-files00047thm.jpg'
13184b4fd0c454ea2c135ee788311f6c
fda2557b1daf461094a5a164c45005c4d7382f78
'2011-11-14T21:35:13-05:00'
describe
'445804' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVY' 'sip-files00048.jp2'
718e58433f03ffb1d893351eb3ebf3a6
bb5727c5ddcfa989f0f0b50995c2bc6478e7fd90
'2011-11-14T21:42:06-05:00'
describe
'142755' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHVZ' 'sip-files00048.jpg'
2fe8859b28479a0d97a0351ece9a5f36
b4c21d2e06cd13b5bcb6f8719af201003e6c077f
'2011-11-14T21:42:23-05:00'
describe
'41292' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWA' 'sip-files00048.pro'
6567c62d1304ff245022b95db59f64fc
660e93be744530970cd33dec73bc673c47fdd9e7
describe
'39517' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWB' 'sip-files00048.QC.jpg'
521555c2f6999ad20285a0c603b76a95
8c1a09a42ae62fa529cd82f5446d1df0888d3a7b
'2011-11-14T21:34:09-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWC' 'sip-files00048.tif'
f861c7367f9ccf8b6281ec980c4d8e35
16720dcd1220d4fda49890f6d247912047e5fde2
describe
'1990' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWD' 'sip-files00048.txt'
c630a50028b54beecdfde9afc20fe77e
5c0104b516eed80bed8ee4c1f08cc25e6c1ade2d
'2011-11-14T21:33:26-05:00'
describe
'9336' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWE' 'sip-files00048thm.jpg'
ff77efd85ed3a2edc0d25859a8870f93
ce74e0cbdd7a8df0e2945b6b4381c976b43aca98
'2011-11-14T21:38:54-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWF' 'sip-files00049.jp2'
6dea38345408cefc3a51b63aeb262d85
a7a93c65f3f7767ed8e28c9015c947a51e7cb00a
'2011-11-14T21:39:00-05:00'
describe
'128675' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWG' 'sip-files00049.jpg'
38c89fe3d1c6cc9b3dff72fe8ac8cc17
5774f7a21cf1a59cffe63bac9dc338b7a5b24e42
describe
'45431' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWH' 'sip-files00049.pro'
13216c3b777da8a807759f94d209227e
213d9731e2fe27cc4702c662412dbeb60c5aa4bd
describe
'36574' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWI' 'sip-files00049.QC.jpg'
3c53ff348278fb165df2940fd375b1f3
1be7bde2aba4613de8a077c9c36005b604a767eb
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWJ' 'sip-files00049.tif'
c7714a6dca878a9c05d6e4e1342491a6
f054de6125393c62010adef273f5dad0fc73b8a6
'2011-11-14T21:36:30-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWK' 'sip-files00049.txt'
e0dd32ef57c99f3091c8c56b49f62e36
322214753a9b81e2177940301dee8138ea0b57ae
'2011-11-14T21:36:31-05:00'
describe
'8241' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWL' 'sip-files00049thm.jpg'
213412f890eb97df0af5a4bf9184d6a9
408735a8c2b7e6c43b435706a2d74e0582247c31
'2011-11-14T21:33:50-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWM' 'sip-files00050.jp2'
08ee9006fd83061ef3c61fa912f61dcd
c10bf67deaab6f4da83f5738cbe6593bc9ced5cb
'2011-11-14T21:38:11-05:00'
describe
'145988' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWN' 'sip-files00050.jpg'
92113c5246b1bdbb94abf033bc932a95
800996075dc4c2b8c3be03ab92528487c069fec9
'2011-11-14T21:35:16-05:00'
describe
'51273' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWO' 'sip-files00050.pro'
76f108cdb530a2a4881252b4b43dd0ea
f0f4148eb8457ea234ac6a9d6a44975bf79cf17d
'2011-11-14T21:39:03-05:00'
describe
'40673' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWP' 'sip-files00050.QC.jpg'
806ec192fe2bb271b4699a68e3a1e523
e0e000cafd5672cffc675b66337ae2762d7b50b5
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWQ' 'sip-files00050.tif'
887055c0cd9395fe1d93f29aeb137071
ad38a6711225e18dbdc0dccdd1fee8a10f933906
'2011-11-14T21:36:21-05:00'
describe
'2131' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWR' 'sip-files00050.txt'
a4fe8ae380e70b3dbc4420776068ee52
716c18aaf7efe7f6a694a980767244dfd1258744
'2011-11-14T21:39:58-05:00'
describe
'8916' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWS' 'sip-files00050thm.jpg'
8a0c51e3867870675f986d013cebdae8
43f27db81192abf18d9b3ad1b84aabc20c126a07
'2011-11-14T21:36:08-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWT' 'sip-files00051.jp2'
1bba485f48c403e3a9246d08bf1271eb
81e4d99b28a3886e82c6c347945659333d240136
'2011-11-14T21:42:05-05:00'
describe
'160836' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWU' 'sip-files00051.jpg'
534dac59406fc7be7410f4239a5db976
fdab1b59458dab5982f776b8717e40ddeb53b54b
'2011-11-14T21:38:50-05:00'
describe
'55709' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWV' 'sip-files00051.pro'
073c8c4806d8a8361d17baa031c01683
d901570df12c6ca86b5becfe43139a2e60d3dfca
'2011-11-14T21:36:37-05:00'
describe
'44802' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWW' 'sip-files00051.QC.jpg'
9d1a4597dba977960037c85a2f7eb2bc
2027717df64cd7705c601ed36f59dfa5bd928535
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWX' 'sip-files00051.tif'
93ba71d40307a70120795f22ecea94e9
d3e0c9f38348c22f7e489b83bcbee8a8c780f0ba
'2011-11-14T21:38:08-05:00'
describe
'2223' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWY' 'sip-files00051.txt'
3d7b6db6e9d15be4e205f8a0501a0d3e
59cfe8ba5c2a9eed33bb167454be797e8c7a670f
describe
'9773' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHWZ' 'sip-files00051thm.jpg'
351aed00f7815d7c39d1265324ea5133
75af13e96af61f2a977760b437c537282f2b66aa
'2011-11-14T21:33:17-05:00'
describe
'445893' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXA' 'sip-files00052.jp2'
d504eee6f90b41265e91e8ae1d6b0667
2945a01b22c9b9c96119755edd0afb6dd2f103c2
'2011-11-14T21:36:46-05:00'
describe
'134402' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXB' 'sip-files00052.jpg'
570bc0546ce33e259d9e9629c589224d
b35a2574d18f2de2084de7647f46982bf607fc72
'2011-11-14T21:39:02-05:00'
describe
'47625' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXC' 'sip-files00052.pro'
6c4a04cb0be521f9ef0332c7c5ff77ae
8ea75e759f40af57b0431f02f3a4469e563dcaa8
'2011-11-14T21:38:30-05:00'
describe
'37861' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXD' 'sip-files00052.QC.jpg'
b2b57d75d26f93315e36bb3502e20f8b
793513abc79af3ae652de5505bcf8c3eacd5821a
'2011-11-14T21:33:32-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXE' 'sip-files00052.tif'
55942c7df182b3852b81207fc7312c15
a98349b422ed0419da7b2ca2d3c9400c6d848048
'2011-11-14T21:41:51-05:00'
describe
'1934' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXF' 'sip-files00052.txt'
1fc7d674ce109162ed2543dfa404f9f4
1094ea565474d52109c0dd2f6ad975e74d641d6c
describe
Invalid character
'8971' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXG' 'sip-files00052thm.jpg'
18c9615d6b74567021bd1c0b971d2eb8
cf40f8471f3e77dba1eb2dc356ceaa36cdeb2a15
'2011-11-14T21:38:28-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXH' 'sip-files00053.jp2'
53ceb0a3843b1f47cda5bd14dae80908
e60c6b05fec9e76c8fa6ea43955de91175780caf
'2011-11-14T21:40:28-05:00'
describe
'128306' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXI' 'sip-files00053.jpg'
fa6e3bc049f362cf099025e4dbeb2d90
8b5d2623ee671da22ca9506db83538d2d617b488
describe
'45053' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXJ' 'sip-files00053.pro'
620d0ad146755f5c004afebda60d8ad3
2a423c4948b4d22fba8648d1491015b9ee8a6d1f
'2011-11-14T21:37:51-05:00'
describe
'36849' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXK' 'sip-files00053.QC.jpg'
0ac5db3dbd6f029605f8e8588c178566
df81e7a2c919e1a4496f04358f90b3db258849dd
'2011-11-14T21:42:14-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXL' 'sip-files00053.tif'
2c39ac5d769fa8519dc409d640d1fd14
636dd6814a451548379defc168b7abca69bceda0
describe
'1858' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXM' 'sip-files00053.txt'
b803c32dc46e6fd46f614cf2f787a39d
b454aa372ba3d387d820ff239d520864fe3a54e9
describe
'8897' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXN' 'sip-files00053thm.jpg'
c5c6959754564c2b589c705e051cb396
098d00f162951980cd5bb2725f57cc074fb1ac3d
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXO' 'sip-files00054.jp2'
a462f65db962541d71dbd77ec8377acb
9fc4f40e841a7ee1973514c08f06882675d8fce5
describe
'156941' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXP' 'sip-files00054.jpg'
c258539b57878a9704cb3b75b7b2ab31
a6d523a8bf2723dfc1642ba4e23dbcba9c369f04
'2011-11-14T21:39:29-05:00'
describe
'55755' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXQ' 'sip-files00054.pro'
895aa28852a64ab3d50299b9f1a5cef8
ed6dfca7e348f3ddd2c9471811d586777865a66a
describe
'44334' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXR' 'sip-files00054.QC.jpg'
2a8a5f0ea8b213ec980b0346472affbe
939764837a748cd784693c59786d0655b8897282
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXS' 'sip-files00054.tif'
dd68dd29b77b7fbb796636e4d31fca7e
7a260d72618086d30b38cc90db52762c7d1a8065
'2011-11-14T21:41:21-05:00'
describe
'2173' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXT' 'sip-files00054.txt'
0e71cb67ca6a262591ab599053ff139a
aa67dc01129e4cb51a138c34e39137515194c53d
'2011-11-14T21:34:59-05:00'
describe
'9908' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXU' 'sip-files00054thm.jpg'
a5204f7d4568439336eae0eaea318d5f
a7f112fee10f46bb5effb5a2059cdf78044c6274
'2011-11-14T21:34:58-05:00'
describe
'445871' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXV' 'sip-files00055.jp2'
50eba6579a82e92fdece373fdf01f344
a126fecf6c79d163df222113a75c32595c55f25f
describe
'143226' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXW' 'sip-files00055.jpg'
5a3b95cb42252862906f33fb29456c4c
c604ef49c5446d987c7932fe10bf079e49ce1490
describe
'50700' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXX' 'sip-files00055.pro'
d42e9441674ba0a7c9c321ecb2d29e0d
0c93ec225078940356c0c655d589f01947cb3bdb
'2011-11-14T21:37:59-05:00'
describe
'40565' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXY' 'sip-files00055.QC.jpg'
8999e0bc5f381898c5fed0ab762a86c3
bea28044baeaa353c612c34f08d8f7527a92faef
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHXZ' 'sip-files00055.tif'
0dd7793f9e3b85675860d63d006f2254
fc892d160d4a9878b1659eff80a082abd88e2b11
describe
'2064' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYA' 'sip-files00055.txt'
d9abe0fbacf6a9671adbf396b783d4e9
6736afe8ec64b06d8bb7d648d604f031d5bf05cb
'2011-11-14T21:34:34-05:00'
describe
'9131' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYB' 'sip-files00055thm.jpg'
1f3bfca4b07257253c8e7cbb9614c8ee
e35fc2a40482d2a4f4bccc39e34523bd469988ff
'2011-11-14T21:34:21-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYC' 'sip-files00056.jp2'
4c997725fe9a9d7c4d2bc4e904ab4e75
d13a093ec8270460b35ba55ab8ba9b31e2027f6f
'2011-11-14T21:34:37-05:00'
describe
'139624' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYD' 'sip-files00056.jpg'
97a6a386235ca36e49de81931b3df7a8
252cfa041daa390ddf8cdd43aa7bf2ad8bbe3dcb
'2011-11-14T21:41:55-05:00'
describe
'27295' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYE' 'sip-files00056.pro'
66e7efe7778cb6485d0b1bb223c326c2
d6429e9156332076e18a93d69de75a69359f720a
'2011-11-14T21:35:32-05:00'
describe
'36462' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYF' 'sip-files00056.QC.jpg'
6eb459120fe9dcc87a567a8534c26832
30cd6f7955d404d235bbaf7b9b46d6a8e401855f
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYG' 'sip-files00056.tif'
1535f29a3183b44727ec1af65e0841cb
299a1c78f5491aa018e346beaea8b4ca2a6e3cbb
describe
'1181' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYH' 'sip-files00056.txt'
90b309a8ff82fd415412116d255ff7c7
dd64d1de7b0b6e097bd6099e0462be95b12c75f9
'2011-11-14T21:38:32-05:00'
describe
'8250' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYI' 'sip-files00056thm.jpg'
048f13ef8d9236ef26562c7c40a12bed
db43c3bbd7d4e3fd7f88887c247bca9a55c7193a
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYJ' 'sip-files00057.jp2'
b3c5081ec86a789929fde92c00765328
2239cc29e5b0d159f5e95752b21acf855b1429a2
'2011-11-14T21:35:34-05:00'
describe
'134047' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYK' 'sip-files00057.jpg'
3866ed0af8f3892149b69f7e5fe8a6cf
5714dbb7f1d3c773cae40060b1654e18bd31a626
describe
'47294' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYL' 'sip-files00057.pro'
b3549290307d7efbc8616d66a295339a
ebef4b8f2c7d5c162846f0a55050c1da87b382e5
'2011-11-14T21:36:59-05:00'
describe
'38427' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYM' 'sip-files00057.QC.jpg'
bcade62ebd0ce8be0af59e99c56d189b
ba2072ebccf01d6c1749dda19c2e5693e4218703
'2011-11-14T21:42:02-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYN' 'sip-files00057.tif'
5604fee75315b3003db5f9e24ba29bc5
0b0182f993a575c762b8cd6d51a786bc3d3fc0a3
'2011-11-14T21:39:42-05:00'
describe
'2006' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYO' 'sip-files00057.txt'
eb33a594d59cd831db2660703bdde32a
446bec66ae6b4aacb9c732a0b2dfab5d236b46d2
describe
'8967' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYP' 'sip-files00057thm.jpg'
a77cf2caf2338a9734e2e59c108d026f
97f6d57f50d4964ca86984c92be6e75e834fac64
describe
'445899' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYQ' 'sip-files00058.jp2'
f419345183c2b649dd1f7fb29389dba2
0f5d69df08e5c13a7297085b3cdfcb6d7940b300
describe
'135900' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYR' 'sip-files00058.jpg'
eddfc418855db9ecc2aef034a6148245
cdf208e7ab4f5b6c40acdeba319374ccec515619
'2011-11-14T21:41:08-05:00'
describe
'49753' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYS' 'sip-files00058.pro'
7256a89e0bdbaae3366fc88e94b30ca9
0309910afd99f136ff72c067269f02bd8e0c614a
describe
'39742' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYT' 'sip-files00058.QC.jpg'
1a018291958074537fd75694b2998fda
3f369100bfc07b2cb17adadd62d7d99b6c51d3e1
'2011-11-14T21:41:48-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYU' 'sip-files00058.tif'
e3f7530fc3c087a62b651755970f5926
363cc103378934a062477fcd12cfb8df32914f03
'2011-11-14T21:35:43-05:00'
describe
'1961' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYV' 'sip-files00058.txt'
ad99a071d7e41c0c8f947580d4ae262d
3c92670fe6fe4efb748b476cde9a12b2c2373752
'2011-11-14T21:36:17-05:00'
describe
'9698' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYW' 'sip-files00058thm.jpg'
a89de24619590bc8f076aa737f5f3dd9
c62328f3545e5da7323f876eca39e44d0e75e03a
'2011-11-14T21:35:22-05:00'
describe
'445784' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYX' 'sip-files00059.jp2'
7635793268ec7a69e0d9e37420eef9dc
02e424bf3d2e09e7b24e3268e614b19527a011a3
'2011-11-14T21:37:16-05:00'
describe
'133471' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYY' 'sip-files00059.jpg'
84447d14a567739b7a511262afb6fbfb
0e47939655f730f64ce648e2490bffc13d47d5fe
'2011-11-14T21:34:11-05:00'
describe
'2822' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHYZ' 'sip-files00059.pro'
37181403015586fb6596480939dc0d76
3b96dca672848e030f5db91770a915fcef2032fe
'2011-11-14T21:38:16-05:00'
describe
'30621' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZA' 'sip-files00059.QC.jpg'
d7b70f262e787ee10aca540ee81be342
cabf45ea0c4f62da00ca083f797ed4abc5b9b413
'2011-11-14T21:33:52-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZB' 'sip-files00059.tif'
49f14acb7f25bee4ec982bb332d40d76
e613c6f6ceb5d3677aba9baa749e3899c279bce4
'2011-11-14T21:40:26-05:00'
describe
'167' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZC' 'sip-files00059.txt'
bdb2443fb833388a7dd8fbc36be8ae89
8462a46ba087e672800f068b5ada7050e24b8b21
'2011-11-14T21:38:24-05:00'
describe
'7003' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZD' 'sip-files00059thm.jpg'
553c7eff6e2292b0b332bd89abd13591
c096a112896924b8e96e1e5cf19c080722479761
'2011-11-14T21:38:26-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZE' 'sip-files00061.jp2'
a501a338cef316078b18e2daae6ee43c
c90168c1472aa239f95610d03ead2c973097dc3a
describe
'135422' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZF' 'sip-files00061.jpg'
163e8428864222ee022b46b3a0e3afe6
a7cdba4f740a88247f50534037129512029942f1
'2011-11-14T21:39:23-05:00'
describe
'49986' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZG' 'sip-files00061.pro'
23b97c1549d6bb8660c0b367f8516dd9
5d11b7af708d2169c7c5a22b2951cef4b7dc8fde
describe
'38629' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZH' 'sip-files00061.QC.jpg'
fb56c09718fe08aaccd7d1e554e049f7
0338d14484c562d8f4b5d46701a18ddbbcad3951
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZI' 'sip-files00061.tif'
940198f545c7f62bcce5f211ff38b4a7
0e409db38fd6874f6dc265d725673f6579e420f7
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZJ' 'sip-files00061.txt'
97b1836470d8f0911b40d5cd246dcc3c
285f467ab49ca028efd8e3307dce9f21b2c3200a
describe
'8961' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZK' 'sip-files00061thm.jpg'
061e4ac9ef287058889166f05c541a54
30d78c6f27e227aa1dbc5959cfe24eab7b96ca37
describe
'446116' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZL' 'sip-files00062.jp2'
2ffab3d65618c735ee7f68a2bcbff3f7
9ecb27fdf915146410fd965ffb3923d5956dd66c
'2011-11-14T21:35:41-05:00'
describe
'138174' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZM' 'sip-files00062.jpg'
8867ef994b22e9b79e62492a43725d1c
2c1714ed142c20445695d0601aa80b848fe1a1a1
'2011-11-14T21:35:18-05:00'
describe
'49872' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZN' 'sip-files00062.pro'
3c155cc8ccbc69b0a287c14484989336
ae799c82c9a561d5701ad91f65cdd1b032817c70
'2011-11-14T21:33:09-05:00'
describe
'40248' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZO' 'sip-files00062.QC.jpg'
7c35350fc9bba6c09d3dfd1d1c055c7f
00952abb711da40799be5e1f25faa38644b9a62a
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZP' 'sip-files00062.tif'
681211c84c55f1f37e3c07717f487e05
88b9775ebe6bffa5d9b77cb2a34bd577e57c48aa
'2011-11-14T21:40:44-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZQ' 'sip-files00062.txt'
12b9d185baaa782b3cdbf388480ea8e7
1ea71d8fd28a64eb732417701e3ecb756c17f9d6
describe
'9372' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZR' 'sip-files00062thm.jpg'
76e35ae0f44a97afd9720c8c5e288c15
8b5e817da2dbd8ec7575ee31ae229312d2de8f02
'2011-11-14T21:34:57-05:00'
describe
'445800' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZS' 'sip-files00063.jp2'
868e1eb8d94971235b6ae5a169cb09a6
a97660db4b66b917a317443e2830a071cae22363
'2011-11-14T21:34:32-05:00'
describe
'72778' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZT' 'sip-files00063.jpg'
6b3c01ee9b6daee53905b764abbecae7
0da930f7857111ad2c161102585af8e12d67e649
'2011-11-14T21:37:44-05:00'
describe
'1602' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZU' 'sip-files00063.pro'
3f24f7e7b068add9440038fc30bebbd0
f65c56b5f85ec74da7feaa118176dd448e4015b5
'2011-11-14T21:34:31-05:00'
describe
'16173' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZV' 'sip-files00063.QC.jpg'
eede0e58938c1dee76787b5cc02f1597
8f80f39b33d68b40013f3832c98db100ac63ccab
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZW' 'sip-files00063.tif'
2d35650ddfdade5110bcee7808d46813
29e85474a4cc8e17de90d255f5ac394f1639ea42
describe
'116' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZX' 'sip-files00063.txt'
e7bc0e13317dd7fb78651e2f233bcb27
7a966df0686778f720d19f9b6346a2a2052071ff
'2011-11-14T21:33:48-05:00'
describe
'4101' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZY' 'sip-files00063thm.jpg'
7684549d7150dc1ac70013532a28410f
b0632008152f079b9666a1b635891f43ac914fed
'2011-11-14T21:38:07-05:00'
describe
'445843' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAHZZ' 'sip-files00065.jp2'
d23e3211bffb9f18475e1acb25228545
d73e2d51428979057d6c595a63b88211a25534bb
describe
'145409' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAA' 'sip-files00065.jpg'
ddfb50cd214b234c6db21e94bcd4abd1
d459d351295110309d8334176aac6e9144c231de
'2011-11-14T21:38:38-05:00'
describe
'53056' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAB' 'sip-files00065.pro'
eca713fa48da45a63cced197b59ac578
be3a63d2df3f10d8486a09098facead15b7e4b08
'2011-11-14T21:33:34-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAC' 'sip-files00065.QC.jpg'
c88872552743a70dd397d18751593cc2
39a297b01caf31b603034b1b937a9bbc59921a31
'2011-11-14T21:35:35-05:00'
describe
'3583664' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAD' 'sip-files00065.tif'
ec8b9c0a8680b4de4405a08c84476a36
b271d7148ffe43c6edab248900164f837ec2c72b
describe
'2130' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAE' 'sip-files00065.txt'
6fabf10dc85523059f5bd6ff87910f11
fa330759583a8057167ae466a0cb3d1ef8c2b2ea
'2011-11-14T21:36:10-05:00'
describe
'9272' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAF' 'sip-files00065thm.jpg'
a4d7104650114ee6a0b018636ce0bbb3
c56ce7076cfb43bb80b2c3e532a410e53d2bdc79
'2011-11-14T21:39:53-05:00'
describe
'446149' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAG' 'sip-files00066.jp2'
8d36b228d7411d33b4d7623ccb53fcad
b8ef0ee86222a1f013ab38e5c7fd05ef62802e57
describe
'141462' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAH' 'sip-files00066.jpg'
2de85b7a52c6bda6a2417a23976c7b87
06e7f116c699b2986ff211e861fa84ca5af9f296
'2011-11-14T21:41:05-05:00'
describe
'50313' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAI' 'sip-files00066.pro'
23f0873a95ecb5cc3d724b8f877aa081
0e70c189a847c622575a5329420bb249417eb329
describe
'41113' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAJ' 'sip-files00066.QC.jpg'
4115268e272d0a0f6eaaeff167d2eefc
a00187e89a8807b3906a4a37a8bb12a69a978df4
'2011-11-14T21:40:49-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAK' 'sip-files00066.tif'
5bd8ec7c59db5ec11c907c862b34af21
37566f7c544c5af623b0a80e84ba6393c4ea68e2
'2011-11-14T21:37:20-05:00'
describe
'2062' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAL' 'sip-files00066.txt'
0012302659b4434198004105cc4beab4
8a13f60707e3e6c99eaad65639afaa68ed48d5a0
'2011-11-14T21:33:49-05:00'
describe
'9276' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAM' 'sip-files00066thm.jpg'
4c19b295bffbe641ac5bff0fe02357c9
764371a99898f0488f616f88d06e7f5526f46699
'2011-11-14T21:34:20-05:00'
describe
'446201' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAN' 'sip-files00067.jp2'
6db6987317debeac8c6061851fde1be6
757893fa0c5118b03554817f0170e0cda5acb486
'2011-11-14T21:38:21-05:00'
describe
'143381' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAO' 'sip-files00067.jpg'
a67135b14db053592e78aa8a623be989
ad51db4f9ba0e428172472d53f7911f55e540d03
'2011-11-14T21:36:42-05:00'
describe
'42901' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAP' 'sip-files00067.pro'
d8e9ddd638426adfe3a61ba908153ce2
1e6e69805a9d1257ee70e022ec139f9fdd668ef4
describe
'40424' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAQ' 'sip-files00067.QC.jpg'
41d2a247c3a04169c89d5283d5fe9629
f6ecc1c6db004f639ce92980c27adfa3fae2181b
'2011-11-14T21:36:23-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAR' 'sip-files00067.tif'
9945c12418ce37f5beb7baa38f4ee48c
00ede1593bd3bfb3eb12ef1602960f8595e20c66
describe
'1780' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAS' 'sip-files00067.txt'
6f9cc08b644043f15b628ac6bd2a0abe
0014752d8a357f5690da174582a23e46ef669409
describe
'9428' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAT' 'sip-files00067thm.jpg'
88c60795dc706ecd845991ec29430b86
5a7d2dac9a1072589ddedb81f3fb327f07e5ffc5
'2011-11-14T21:41:53-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAU' 'sip-files00068.jp2'
66a8d48a2548cb5f2a2828858777ee8e
620a54d8278f316eeb13551e8131cf4a91377042
describe
'128562' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAV' 'sip-files00068.jpg'
6cac9752d7593f2eda7c4b12ad0ac414
642044d470d55966aa11cb6fa30141da901467d3
describe
'45990' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAW' 'sip-files00068.pro'
1cbbd6efb1a9c2a800dd2faa6cbd9fdc
0adb6b464f7a29992b8fb63b32634950835887cd
describe
'37089' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAX' 'sip-files00068.QC.jpg'
75e480513b17794ebc22f2a83d192174
eb48217662c3c0578b49423f1168b87a91a239ee
'2011-11-14T21:35:30-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAY' 'sip-files00068.tif'
0823dfef08cbe4eaba1abe6716ec2a6e
6749b004638c6346da9b74b5319742ceda7c57d1
'2011-11-14T21:40:33-05:00'
describe
'1867' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIAZ' 'sip-files00068.txt'
fd0f2163847536432bd67bdab85ed9e9
8b2976421a1a7abc95488d6a542efa9a30881b2b
describe
'8636' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBA' 'sip-files00068thm.jpg'
df78adf58440a1aa4eb3a2eea5d57ab8
c5580292766e44cccb700351c9fbc9df37a5a258
'2011-11-14T21:34:19-05:00'
describe
'445878' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBB' 'sip-files00069.jp2'
de4eeb13f6a6ae83d9d4d0f067caede7
6320579d8800f082f643b67974f7d36ab1371293
'2011-11-14T21:34:45-05:00'
describe
'148799' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBC' 'sip-files00069.jpg'
b56045497a4c45b5eda8b9995e85b3b2
9f6d5bb27fe2c50246ae2949f51edab3e1997524
'2011-11-14T21:40:37-05:00'
describe
'2978' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBD' 'sip-files00069.pro'
7144744308b61c75cc1278e09899fe72
8384c4290f1aaabd2c7fd1e5dfd0330b354ea5cd
'2011-11-14T21:35:15-05:00'
describe
'34148' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBE' 'sip-files00069.QC.jpg'
12eb73d84efa61a40674d8fff7139861
ed64e0d95a3c2c96020ac1bc34b52b8decafb375
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBF' 'sip-files00069.tif'
934af5da01cdb85234c9235e68dd9dd3
cfa2f385d7d1f635bf13620ad5b8faca01bae055
'2011-11-14T21:39:43-05:00'
describe
'227' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBG' 'sip-files00069.txt'
728736cc4374eef0e428df56aab8ffb4
cdce47882edf745208ad8bcd24a1f2928da78eab
'2011-11-14T21:38:25-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'8253' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBH' 'sip-files00069thm.jpg'
588c0bb9d378af896c67a371166005e4
ad8b1ee32cdc511f61077a18e7133f56ca9712f3
describe
'445908' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBI' 'sip-files00071.jp2'
a82cbcc097314898212041c2e36eaac7
2133ca8bc3ea25d9ef2f7ebb0219cd3685e54dab
'2011-11-14T21:39:26-05:00'
describe
'143023' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBJ' 'sip-files00071.jpg'
61b90cf2d7165d7d8ec56c14255aaec2
eab3fa3d75eaf6848c14453656e94340751d0ecf
describe
'51031' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBK' 'sip-files00071.pro'
6228df333d671634b3105017b0323c76
beb4e0234f4bc99ab94d0a2c2204116228927833
'2011-11-14T21:38:29-05:00'
describe
'41328' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBL' 'sip-files00071.QC.jpg'
6a6423b668436897153f267f9760b22a
50caf80effdc6dfa55d5c621c68c35176d0b5034
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBM' 'sip-files00071.tif'
0d5ba7eaf17f4f73a0c610de73b1b3e3
e331436cc05911610b33cc823426726c09d18a9e
describe
'2053' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBN' 'sip-files00071.txt'
dd4a10702db984f5a02c5ea363643e16
b53c8a876481afb4d0dd4b615f135d401f6b2d5f
describe
'9495' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBO' 'sip-files00071thm.jpg'
b455715240c11c36b019c8a2d1d0e4d6
d993f2efd9a42895dc629b5293a6584749796bfc
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBP' 'sip-files00072.jp2'
ac1f045cb329f8b690ddccaacfe2afa8
ca54c731cc9686bd1fd33e336b293672f9e607d9
describe
'104786' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBQ' 'sip-files00072.jpg'
1d664c3ed8b5a7ad9277f0540b00d023
a6ad89ea1542eba040e1bda1081f1905ba7e9d38
describe
'20725' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBR' 'sip-files00072.pro'
7321334bceeaea653f2d089f780b35a1
bc41b181ca0920968ca56279fb26ff82fab3b03c
'2011-11-14T21:40:16-05:00'
describe
'27949' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBS' 'sip-files00072.QC.jpg'
d6a8442528b98efc7a6cf8c5d03ee0cf
48f8be710d5e4604bd33f0a27bbc3af2cf0a5f4f
'2011-11-14T21:39:31-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBT' 'sip-files00072.tif'
54836221c3a1bd62e0ab8bba900f61b0
2b7b447776ab36a6f6e16378d5ff95abf62afdf8
'2011-11-14T21:34:42-05:00'
describe
'839' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBU' 'sip-files00072.txt'
0c52f319eb7e0b703844bd1680c905a6
1e9f833a02ebd3d788d253615493f77fec347628
'2011-11-14T21:35:07-05:00'
describe
'7239' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBV' 'sip-files00072thm.jpg'
81435a11e78abb344fc200fb4fbbfc1e
ffcfe31e6dc2280b604bc7c559c7119726727c23
'2011-11-14T21:34:49-05:00'
describe
'445795' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBW' 'sip-files00073.jp2'
f58ecc390e94a789526260616d91609e
0da928818c6d15a9185d45236561961efb4a2f7a
describe
'151898' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBX' 'sip-files00073.jpg'
c09638a6fea64e103a8a2f9545f5f4d6
ccd822f3faf9be026d624d637192b3bb8343c52b
describe
'55248' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBY' 'sip-files00073.pro'
fd58edda188a2c0e0a97df45c7282b0c
d71cd850d8dafe9f5e5321a27cde97a1cda449b2
describe
'43219' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIBZ' 'sip-files00073.QC.jpg'
504b185658e9649cc3da048f6c1d5d94
82f9e14739ae39237bf669b4a12254987b583488
'2011-11-14T21:33:19-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICA' 'sip-files00073.tif'
6a202e99f389e1b4c36f2b019f3f2025
d78bb228cd1c9d1d60ce56fb75b916038df729e9
describe
'2164' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICB' 'sip-files00073.txt'
4c19e70a9b7c2739e5426a7f088bfa49
1f5480cf8de178ec7cae1b193ca1bf22bdeb763a
'2011-11-14T21:39:20-05:00'
describe
'9295' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICC' 'sip-files00073thm.jpg'
07a768a0b5ef7b0308fb947fb142f448
050525618373a5aea6bea017c12ac6b83451ccc1
describe
'445887' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICD' 'sip-files00074.jp2'
3843940c15c54824a304bb194dab2e1c
08c5a3f86ed44465c12bd0bd66545755e55ae03c
describe
'123238' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICE' 'sip-files00074.jpg'
46cfc1c3670ba128c2347c7a40f7aab8
50cc1c93e424eaf22e70de71f5250c03a5d515ce
describe
'29821' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICF' 'sip-files00074.pro'
529f565a7a3ae01f1c528c391b9229f7
f8485a9068961d47c9c1b8022957ab7d62becc4d
'2011-11-14T21:41:45-05:00'
describe
'34677' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICG' 'sip-files00074.QC.jpg'
caa9c9733175d4d66c0cd320fcf8ac91
47d9366deb1f354015128f525cdfc9014dbaae53
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICH' 'sip-files00074.tif'
024883acb6face93eac687865e8b12c0
741fec618839aa10f6f212be5b050c657ce87442
'2011-11-14T21:37:57-05:00'
describe
'1405' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICI' 'sip-files00074.txt'
2f781bdf437bc91ff0788bc4f82f03bf
1c9c84a0d736b25cbc7f6a6ff8d6949a64536714
describe
'8414' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICJ' 'sip-files00074thm.jpg'
404225ca503cfd493c0ba5138414636a
1e38bee0fa694e7a36e11e7ff103019e0b15f180
'2011-11-14T21:36:52-05:00'
describe
'445890' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICK' 'sip-files00075.jp2'
0ae89365a908edbc09bdd4161ccaabf2
525f8d841aca8c467c4cc8d2f2c4f8b8e25d121d
'2011-11-14T21:34:00-05:00'
describe
'132650' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICL' 'sip-files00075.jpg'
12b1eb7f0800efb5764e5415b7b67c1f
7f2b73f6755874d53a0f36bc305b096e56f45bfb
describe
'47019' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICM' 'sip-files00075.pro'
d8ccd30decb571ed0b550658020aee83
02d269e4684ea5a0469f02999774fb0782b1c55c
describe
'38325' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICN' 'sip-files00075.QC.jpg'
aab892f3331d282a3036fd0d05ab698e
bdbbcdf96184d4f90b1a542bc35a73feb75e9de5
'2011-11-14T21:35:08-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICO' 'sip-files00075.tif'
916ff9a75c602979c4ec15fdb0cbdb6e
8bb75df423cfef3a78c4276a20bd50ba8c158170
describe
'1957' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICP' 'sip-files00075.txt'
9a925c4bbfb82edc4f1583e57102e8d1
d377bd2bc893e9900cd6eb64ce4de03e299a46cb
'2011-11-14T21:37:14-05:00'
describe
'9037' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICQ' 'sip-files00075thm.jpg'
898a2b1632c84f3d0072f9fb7cf3c815
2c1d67631cfae21f4d6bbcbdb276a2392dc5f2e3
'2011-11-14T21:41:42-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICR' 'sip-files00076.jp2'
fe36ca61a9e41cd831d8b62ab27c2195
de12db57f720b766062168189a66d51d235beab3
describe
'117016' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICS' 'sip-files00076.jpg'
f1deef6028128317e86f5cb11cea13b5
f1f2979fabe8bc1649de99d8aba1ca2850ef7864
describe
'41394' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICT' 'sip-files00076.pro'
774cb4d06ea623a2ab2d56580211c262
3f718fd922704b990222730e495165b3c42602a5
'2011-11-14T21:41:39-05:00'
describe
'33607' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICU' 'sip-files00076.QC.jpg'
e2fe792248098d141864ef1b3947a454
df191cbb0dbe29605ae36ba44c36f989de8333f4
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICV' 'sip-files00076.tif'
7fe0e9f91473d674bccbc26000fa849e
42d78da669a14115699d030474fe5e92b8c79e54
'2011-11-14T21:37:15-05:00'
describe
'1742' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICW' 'sip-files00076.txt'
e31a456f9343ee8b474895afdb6a2f28
b8feca5f2760b0fb087c32b70538c1581e674641
'2011-11-14T21:38:49-05:00'
describe
'8017' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICX' 'sip-files00076thm.jpg'
d025e1b9ac963c7399a8b7a657866467
f436824cf5330d6bddc7adb5f888d983fa1b137a
'2011-11-14T21:34:13-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICY' 'sip-files00077.jp2'
156503c8a54918a1a14ffd55179973d9
209ddcff0b5f2cdbabb5a9f6b004dc086cc07902
'2011-11-14T21:36:27-05:00'
describe
'114174' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAICZ' 'sip-files00077.jpg'
672eaf64ae3f9033bd25d4f19fb18cf6
c61ce377079da6cf5ccf03bb8a2105d7fef48cdd
'2011-11-14T21:35:42-05:00'
describe
'39945' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDA' 'sip-files00077.pro'
2d4c40ca4ab6195bb61c0175a5dfe2f5
38590c3b5a2154d1718110a296acca450b53bfd3
describe
'33403' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDB' 'sip-files00077.QC.jpg'
b56cc517f53ad3d983fd2d8710f36e58
9fcd9c0a7596c4d96496be7704d0fd7399366b23
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDC' 'sip-files00077.tif'
65b0791778fac043b83af972d0b8a352
1420641a290c17f755001ff988ffa3d20cd34105
describe
'1700' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDD' 'sip-files00077.txt'
ef435e8244ffa641edfe8b536ddb7665
02f371b096c4ea3ef42c0c5b7a34c0b4069b02c3
describe
'8129' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDE' 'sip-files00077thm.jpg'
403b60fcaba759353a9ae5e0ea4e33a3
21d22b85f240d891f43c621db3ebeef8a4de6e3f
describe
'445811' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDF' 'sip-files00078.jp2'
558780a597846a0bae4019110fd0b207
db456775cd86620e664b9d1a2219ff9cb49514eb
'2011-11-14T21:34:05-05:00'
describe
'142161' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDG' 'sip-files00078.jpg'
e7f0f8ad6b7d55f41417193059f1752f
74c30e3bd336f19b5f43a3932756791f2e561e6d
describe
'52790' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDH' 'sip-files00078.pro'
f2e4fd51469285ec09eb6c0518282da9
9e89961746b9e61f0bd13b7df8d4410cd4c4c356
describe
'40848' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDI' 'sip-files00078.QC.jpg'
e81d1c67876cdb66a15faa8f142b145f
1ab57e9a60bb41bc199bd56a9d3cd61337dc17ce
'2011-11-14T21:39:21-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDJ' 'sip-files00078.tif'
44ff4f8f78cfb1693044782f6abfe4ea
8ebae8aa4fa78c0e6e978e6ae33a1c740c3cb6ec
describe
'2086' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDK' 'sip-files00078.txt'
7c36f38dcf007ff11cddc40f7caaea9a
6979791ce94aef0b0d16c76409b3fe1e58acd636
describe
'9458' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDL' 'sip-files00078thm.jpg'
f2cdd3c1521675091eb6b8b2e643a314
0e2b296988d62fc33dde46c82aa3b7cab41e27a0
'2011-11-14T21:33:23-05:00'
describe
'445717' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDM' 'sip-files00079.jp2'
adfff81caafcec16922de6e24b3a7e45
58decd28834494fb950695993eab31586bac3898
'2011-11-14T21:33:24-05:00'
describe
'70125' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDN' 'sip-files00079.jpg'
5a5f9c36eb184b3ba194f70b851e1280
ddbf716a205dafc827a343f4b8e2ecc219a0ae76
describe
'2697' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDO' 'sip-files00079.pro'
cc3d44ac8fb88f4b00e2bc1587e2e9e1
9e56b0a2548e8d4eb577a5dd90baf43e4a9a0ea7
describe
'16582' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDP' 'sip-files00079.QC.jpg'
a07914ba8553c0415210dd83e2a2c21d
27b2565637443c90e5cf0d2ad1388fa02c8e0f49
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDQ' 'sip-files00079.tif'
3201a2fe1e6ac5e949249faf84144a76
742268d17780303fb58a0dffcc935d26c65bb03e
describe
'217' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDR' 'sip-files00079.txt'
43eecbce2409000294b4bd694f7aeca7
be89c795df6b150e2a3940b1c1dc88672d53b0e2
describe
Invalid character
'4204' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDS' 'sip-files00079thm.jpg'
3f88619aed819419e87050d59a0a534a
2e955057b31d9f9b92527769b818dbdc8778f5d6
describe
'445905' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDT' 'sip-files00081.jp2'
3adeb0b0eea7bc622920f39ebc7247a5
0f36f69ad074179783cba74c7f4d54066335f4b4
describe
'134595' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDU' 'sip-files00081.jpg'
db090eaefaf471b2d22d84e9e9f86600
5b051ae3395863bd458ff75891b2b3b1127b0e27
describe
'49000' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDV' 'sip-files00081.pro'
c9e09094d60aa50ee6c49e202ed10300
bf2f647240d9dd5c8d034c1c820b1c1851c5f203
describe
'38183' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDW' 'sip-files00081.QC.jpg'
7435e09fc5fa2d84735fd08e33ccb621
ac2a442cbec1ce48e9a3d0f3b8b48cef1fde0c97
'2011-11-14T21:35:17-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDX' 'sip-files00081.tif'
29a1a02ad7d8364c139c1f47b299cfa3
8e75be484e998c892d89bcdf6fdcb730223b5367
'2011-11-14T21:42:04-05:00'
describe
'2088' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDY' 'sip-files00081.txt'
e317be31678d77f6a3feee9710dd319a
da458d36c76705e77ed92cc9d2ec325c6054948b
describe
'8719' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIDZ' 'sip-files00081thm.jpg'
b927673561c783e9a08cbb16d436d469
c3a6a4d8c4b15f2f4a6514f02b893a61b4835fe0
'2011-11-14T21:36:00-05:00'
describe
'445854' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEA' 'sip-files00082.jp2'
d00213bba5f67de4901a81880a3b990b
ff2293e19b0f54aaa9362bfcc12c6fc2eadf4b1e
'2011-11-14T21:40:38-05:00'
describe
'146056' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEB' 'sip-files00082.jpg'
88d3b01dd34c5e70aefd83cd5d12f912
c56740558a0c99f5060ec08f116e90545c5c8051
'2011-11-14T21:42:00-05:00'
describe
'43957' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEC' 'sip-files00082.pro'
af81398e5653c190df82f6cff1f381a2
f9f6d5cc08541a2402526600aec8dd3d64f1a449
describe
'40253' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIED' 'sip-files00082.QC.jpg'
61460e3dc8192cc32cacd28ee445e210
a77415df2c537fd138b14e0e890b879c32d94ee0
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEE' 'sip-files00082.tif'
1ad0b726f2a44a9825e8344852d32a30
4e0d9bd54893cbc3d660d86e7286ef1b2a36a54f
describe
'2222' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEF' 'sip-files00082.txt'
cf69f9c76f21a2a5859236615f6b8cc6
ade52e49da8bff08d97718167f93266e8a5c0065
describe
Invalid character
'9317' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEG' 'sip-files00082thm.jpg'
72672eb1f077b7abd47546684df13aa5
45622d54c243c4669015de2e527a8691229326c6
describe
'445845' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEH' 'sip-files00083.jp2'
9fc64453bc8926473435394b9fa48604
5e294efd362b52a0d06f1d45833859920467a289
'2011-11-14T21:33:53-05:00'
describe
'138268' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEI' 'sip-files00083.jpg'
755c6f3c95a886c1ae17dd76cda346b7
d8aab7a1b58c496fd774ca81cc61f1ebe0d21529
'2011-11-14T21:36:33-05:00'
describe
'47930' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEJ' 'sip-files00083.pro'
4a5db8f6e4b3129a27116d69b2eefb8c
ef884d4b5f382e7b16ba790ff9b09d714b69a06e
describe
'39703' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEK' 'sip-files00083.QC.jpg'
4b71af8b4f94f0b60d5623092138c569
a3cd4239257c1e5ccc94281dcb9772a940cc750f
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEL' 'sip-files00083.tif'
57a7f28b530748de750cf408083559a3
b6be8867c662a6c53f3e7cbff812aa98e7950e5c
'2011-11-14T21:38:55-05:00'
describe
'2035' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEM' 'sip-files00083.txt'
8ddd4153d1fa59ba03385878d2ebd5e4
2c2bb1fad1dd6d3493f005c9c36c12c815e5f215
describe
'8791' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEN' 'sip-files00083thm.jpg'
a60e49d8f7d17b3ab85967a09c762b9b
efb95f0fb2487e3f2eae247648b2b19c8549ffe9
describe
'445821' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEO' 'sip-files00084.jp2'
6757b2159a40cb8771d0989e010215bf
acc47b26d513862fd290e5dcb7c1cf206ccda863
describe
'136948' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEP' 'sip-files00084.jpg'
b9a189fca9736df459dfb569e14a7400
0b5589e7d8fe00fbe2faef8ca709dac4582d1802
'2011-11-14T21:33:20-05:00'
describe
'48496' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEQ' 'sip-files00084.pro'
83ac055103fa81d5dcd696ae54f8438a
f1821795512941eabb526144353c7bb57b681984
'2011-11-14T21:36:48-05:00'
describe
'39721' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIER' 'sip-files00084.QC.jpg'
6da139e33d3cf119bf7c36777a0ede2a
170403f41f96cb8c1826a80591f4bfb3cb095f70
'2011-11-14T21:39:09-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIES' 'sip-files00084.tif'
0912d8ec5761d305b5623eb5108640f9
b286bd15d0c517b439624ae1521f978cf2459fda
'2011-11-14T21:33:04-05:00'
describe
'1977' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIET' 'sip-files00084.txt'
18672bd01aa862823c7cb60fb5259ed4
1028b5ea00efffd182ebbfa576571c2c7dea2893
describe
'9349' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEU' 'sip-files00084thm.jpg'
ee1e0f5ca3f09fd5ecb9458196553bdb
e9af96a69012c9edbc784b4f830ed11eac28f235
'2011-11-14T21:38:01-05:00'
describe
'445863' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEV' 'sip-files00085.jp2'
1cba309c85c8dcb02709979f1a80da97
d87226f44cef419708fb28dd420a376014634e2e
'2011-11-14T21:34:39-05:00'
describe
'139103' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEW' 'sip-files00085.jpg'
0962eb34d851691ee6026074fe571eb9
af27f0917573230ede490e82c8727602aa240ba6
'2011-11-14T21:36:53-05:00'
describe
'31611' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEX' 'sip-files00085.pro'
de9d791f75e4d92c2c4f6c5f6a7d8635
b4495492c23adace3a5bd85daaaddd76ec6ba025
describe
'38349' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEY' 'sip-files00085.QC.jpg'
edd0c298e4e12d341bc861383076f1d8
89c7c134ccfcfef341a553b7fd46799875e1e752
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIEZ' 'sip-files00085.tif'
c368469b442749b7c6769ef11bdbecf2
699997225ef68db5336a496c95224cc71bb48b80
'2011-11-14T21:41:54-05:00'
describe
'1299' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFA' 'sip-files00085.txt'
4b28fefcda04b20a8cc3a1a5beecc84e
5e4b994a6c4f56639f894bd32128aeebe6074a61
'2011-11-14T21:38:31-05:00'
describe
'9086' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFB' 'sip-files00085thm.jpg'
4fba797f37016e798ef198686bf328e3
d28dc292c0b85866400f7029da6ae2f5a437a53f
describe
'445897' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFC' 'sip-files00086.jp2'
ed1d44ec19c0954264bf2df1e817ce80
8d05832aba34dc9050ab504413f8bdcb9cbc14cc
describe
'121766' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFD' 'sip-files00086.jpg'
57427a7a2ad002528a8cc396edd1b092
0c33dffaf307c3438a4cc6864455d77ef3240652
describe
'43910' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFE' 'sip-files00086.pro'
4ab7d730208d23a7502ae139f55ba0ef
c1bb29cb274d08edf5c3c15df4096edcb42d535a
describe
'35362' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFF' 'sip-files00086.QC.jpg'
c05b0bd9f1a1fc04b597253b96fba82c
2ab5b9a59595b7350eabdf01cce9d201feccd759
'2011-11-14T21:35:44-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFG' 'sip-files00086.tif'
f6463574d2d61cc51f8bdf946f94f310
66972a9b60281c109f9c8b1ee0c62eaffbaef33c
'2011-11-14T21:40:01-05:00'
describe
'1801' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFH' 'sip-files00086.txt'
d7d8f01926b993234885d88eef14ba73
fe099202f15a44ce3cc01d205e0d622de4109ccc
describe
'8649' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFI' 'sip-files00086thm.jpg'
61714da83cb0523cb40b8e187caa37ce
35bbb280e3b6af5ca6917998e28872c2a578f830
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFJ' 'sip-files00087.jp2'
654b7d13939d5b6d057b602166c2cc5c
a7adf19853eddb8df019e6f35775af069129d4c5
describe
'151147' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFK' 'sip-files00087.jpg'
944f7148f455ae6a015c5a54d2900969
2af165f5ae9f2c6aca62deedb50a7cd8e92f70da
'2011-11-14T21:34:22-05:00'
describe
'4994' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFL' 'sip-files00087.pro'
e533556fff3c6d94f9fd22ed25effa2e
f63d3f217277d58387b2b6ccba3c302f7258bfdb
describe
'33402' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFM' 'sip-files00087.QC.jpg'
d7a3ce24a29babe36b87519ecd7ef84a
ebb113bc804a7fb6c482ebba43be07981125f4e4
'2011-11-14T21:37:21-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFN' 'sip-files00087.tif'
9619be394281fa8451db65bad557eb03
814ba12e862e3c600345551cda47a601e641fc42
'2011-11-14T21:37:53-05:00'
describe
'334' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFO' 'sip-files00087.txt'
ee614bf9aafb31727e9e1975a89bf500
dbf6348ba1b2b1015be7649b1534a64ed1540cac
describe
Invalid character
'7611' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFP' 'sip-files00087thm.jpg'
7776e7c4ea3f84b95890c178623d3365
222ea29cb49cb84cb9a9e91010e5e575d136b554
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFQ' 'sip-files00089.jp2'
8f6697eea77f45a03f4e437b4302c5c5
a25c83db607ffb2519b4b7c4695af277e2b79b0b
describe
'149685' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFR' 'sip-files00089.jpg'
13dde2409211fa83af9bedb385b5f75f
3d86a69e0ed97828b8b9782aa3b3226e1be2f548
describe
'54795' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFS' 'sip-files00089.pro'
a3f57fc8de564e343f1121dd81ad1a73
0759fbc886f9954e77e8e26581168c2532fe8f3b
describe
'42146' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFT' 'sip-files00089.QC.jpg'
f5b290da6aef1ed2d1f4f9791c6ef6bc
010fe7b6b488a68c78117755a0d17a5b06fdbdae
'2011-11-14T21:33:27-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFU' 'sip-files00089.tif'
a8eecea30b65048f529a3bc61ae60be0
1715c26040daab5cd3c575311781cdb25e06759a
'2011-11-14T21:37:49-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFV' 'sip-files00089.txt'
857fbc3e20ef5b7433e94672a2f7074c
d6026503fa191e4a897b96e8f7a5ac239ab45f4d
'2011-11-14T21:33:59-05:00'
describe
'9260' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFW' 'sip-files00089thm.jpg'
b168b094401d092550756411cdb76c9f
8702ae5e171c77fa91baee374f01d33fd9d6fdbc
describe
'445830' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFX' 'sip-files00090.jp2'
efc6887fb1d0021c103d39bd2bf32188
aefd7d2332eedf77a04df915204f3500a8535cd7
'2011-11-14T21:35:33-05:00'
describe
'138134' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFY' 'sip-files00090.jpg'
c5092d5c3eb7b6833ec7826576dfd03a
9486da5eb5a8a7e83f4a93b55d52fb54405d2161
describe
'49597' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIFZ' 'sip-files00090.pro'
e065cd3956e9bcb3564439e6252c0d82
2be2c2e5552204dbb81f038c47e10baa75dcab62
describe
'40087' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGA' 'sip-files00090.QC.jpg'
008e7d08ac6ec1eef6cbb471df692f29
76f737b451646992fc50755ad6e3644ba0ff6f42
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGB' 'sip-files00090.tif'
a36582d998bac741fa088d99840eb343
b65fbfe57326f502a1ccca9cca60cb0118cf79e7
'2011-11-14T21:38:51-05:00'
describe
'2066' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGC' 'sip-files00090.txt'
8356437c69832b0fa593d5116f8708f7
8114ae21812337a3c7f5620136b62d8bc564f973
'2011-11-14T21:40:23-05:00'
describe
'8918' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGD' 'sip-files00090thm.jpg'
cc57efc4b5d72105cc8cf31839fb6fc6
b0539635679081a2e96b891d2273ab88f88f0736
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGE' 'sip-files00091.jp2'
615ef774c2b59e1c321b170c3b43291b
798ae1e9ed4f0e57bc1b3d57526e6daf4d4dfbb5
'2011-11-14T21:41:20-05:00'
describe
'139012' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGF' 'sip-files00091.jpg'
d6b40bee198abad528c5ffd28c03ed34
dda3677ab058552d53b18e3254293cd59a07f2fc
describe
'49364' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGG' 'sip-files00091.pro'
a738ea74d903950d3cc3dd3bd40413d6
6edbc2be5115c6689f05b97649d78ad4aed89d0e
'2011-11-14T21:35:45-05:00'
describe
'38923' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGH' 'sip-files00091.QC.jpg'
5c189ee2ca51a5e46abfce2f0e0c8260
28e80e46623d2f70e681878d449bbabd655ab9f8
'2011-11-14T21:41:27-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGI' 'sip-files00091.tif'
ab1a584f05381f697594c17b5adef028
81478cef5efd5d8bfb73873d271b6b0ecf153b99
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGJ' 'sip-files00091.txt'
0253890431547ec1dad8df1ddda90327
088c877b9f7329de71918333b7315d47dddc4b49
'2011-11-14T21:35:26-05:00'
describe
'8745' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGK' 'sip-files00091thm.jpg'
f55e3f3b36d374dce10fbe92e9a75732
c4ed2c57aa909739a5e40a801babf8952fc8d4dc
describe
'445866' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGL' 'sip-files00092.jp2'
edae469f3e3e7d738a0fc3c3c14d6fed
b4f912e1ef8a1844b19e3d9bee255471c96ea1ed
'2011-11-14T21:34:06-05:00'
describe
'130769' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGM' 'sip-files00092.jpg'
271d4e0a7658bf36fdee594814209938
371eedb3e70af73ed3c1f300b953e65f3c8582ef
'2011-11-14T21:38:45-05:00'
describe
'46554' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGN' 'sip-files00092.pro'
649c0eeefa40ad3b3494b2bc557cf74e
926aa7f81baa0734bb2cc5d2cfd1eb36cb6c1ffe
'2011-11-14T21:40:19-05:00'
describe
'38045' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGO' 'sip-files00092.QC.jpg'
aff26f820b859b90fa72d6023f049de6
ecfe42a5cec360e0ff15358868a1b2da14ec5ec3
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGP' 'sip-files00092.tif'
bda6cd97c1ffc24889454e42120fd7f8
6d92b43625418e63d6ceef5ac40e7135f831e704
'2011-11-14T21:39:27-05:00'
describe
'1909' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGQ' 'sip-files00092.txt'
8da242db0ee4dda58f08001783868f1e
700afea8775e947b06dbaf28f0afa27a9123da0b
describe
'9373' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGR' 'sip-files00092thm.jpg'
5edae5e8cc7a44ba3456e9d4c3a27576
fdd54005c61a8f91eb99d195050126fcbae5ca63
'2011-11-14T21:38:22-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGS' 'sip-files00093.jp2'
fbc56eceac68459e77b6a34b26e45276
6285b94d8523811e1ac8cb33c083ac890edc07c3
describe
'123523' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGT' 'sip-files00093.jpg'
43501a5a0e7a69a3c74de4a840fb82a0
8b5a096d8e5d9da438e78437eceb3da554234ae6
describe
'43343' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGU' 'sip-files00093.pro'
5155a2f4600c3647791a0e73dee4de2a
faee867989e3f465d01f5702a9427e4725dca10b
describe
'35771' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGV' 'sip-files00093.QC.jpg'
ded7cf63468a5b7f85fb935ca0f4ea9b
34bc7ab5d9cb7bb3205fe275fec58f908a7a8f43
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGW' 'sip-files00093.tif'
1907fa4081ca430e73ee000cb0ba17f1
a5c50d10ef3ea50080bc8ec0cfbf74a6c6f5f6c6
describe
'1758' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGX' 'sip-files00093.txt'
e22aa33a07978a1d748b570647e7ee94
79fe34801a64915b7630c22ae4445ecd1392f28f
describe
'8283' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGY' 'sip-files00093thm.jpg'
80a41a4998d953b03b01fede23e6443a
be332eb0f612b80d3e5e2e63cb16a7e36e6a6adb
'2011-11-14T21:37:19-05:00'
describe
'445913' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIGZ' 'sip-files00094.jp2'
637c74e21b30bc86f3578dba7488cd31
200f42192d4649aaf05c61fc6d550f38ca89046c
describe
'137403' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHA' 'sip-files00094.jpg'
8350e0e32fe503bf0dc5a4a1e14b1138
892f90286371befc0a63ee036b15e406e63c7f14
'2011-11-14T21:34:04-05:00'
describe
'46356' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHB' 'sip-files00094.pro'
6a1b768a9ada2b8780a98d7e60719d73
968d4e51ada3951cfd68fa5a8338ed6315ebeec1
describe
'39610' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHC' 'sip-files00094.QC.jpg'
df670c72ec5b502bd6f3be040770c84f
60e24c54767705dc01da0b823172447dd011ca5b
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHD' 'sip-files00094.tif'
b8d3ef3d9bf649dad5fb1d47838456e1
9da018ba3372b96d214f68edd12a4e84706e9530
describe
'1942' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHE' 'sip-files00094.txt'
d2ffe1a64ae4942988065c1048c71dde
b8dde6a767d5e0af2a305b650d8fb3c6b25f8c79
describe
'9123' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHF' 'sip-files00094thm.jpg'
f97c22d833554401252886057f6120bb
b2fa23f39c8c5f0aac552d880a69a07e6d5a407b
describe
'445737' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHG' 'sip-files00095.jp2'
92e4ba3bd80da482ee6bfd07a8af20df
8852db70f74cc4d171098e5d5da4e2f92d334d36
'2011-11-14T21:38:19-05:00'
describe
'144438' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHH' 'sip-files00095.jpg'
f2cf4478fb8fa59b7bb2890407e9aac5
60d6ce5fcfaebdba46bbc6f3bf1cd0dfe1a45e58
'2011-11-14T21:35:29-05:00'
describe
'2069' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHI' 'sip-files00095.pro'
f77bf046c69996908117ee3e18d24cf6
09314b8f20c5f99cf0dac892c80fa1e5b82fa9fb
describe
'31043' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHJ' 'sip-files00095.QC.jpg'
8efd7c8dd7e06f6a56c462ad309f5500
66a29ba7f86e3fc790571578657e32de709bdf25
'2011-11-14T21:38:59-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHK' 'sip-files00095.tif'
65f7371b8dd716dc932214a23130d124
5ed57c92918e8dc09e8f1511234b9777ff8ef4b3
'2011-11-14T21:41:58-05:00'
describe
'205' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHL' 'sip-files00095.txt'
d8848e63512d3e194d1783fe9108cf4e
6014581e1413a982d022c1406cdbfc55963a0f2c
'2011-11-14T21:36:20-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'7207' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHM' 'sip-files00095thm.jpg'
4ada1f08b2688c486cf8f1b6d76ec341
64adce8dec6261087f178e5769b99bdc45f603fb
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHN' 'sip-files00097.jp2'
78475aea558cdf19845127235b8f90d0
7fc92a89a9bc7f359c45fd668667e98cbde8a75b
describe
'140573' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHO' 'sip-files00097.jpg'
067a53239c926917951500170b23047c
8054a46d34cafce73e52a05e2307ad6fc303f9e8
describe
'48280' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHP' 'sip-files00097.pro'
4b9e0915f32fce9b54e2fd3f9daf8f7a
fb7dc1975fecc8821793063374c0d70b878eaaf9
describe
'40859' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHQ' 'sip-files00097.QC.jpg'
1b79de332a1f87d844e7327570b91ad7
313c6209c3d01e84615b393d11be1480d3f25f4d
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHR' 'sip-files00097.tif'
0df067ed85cb8ddaf53d4e68f8cb6dfc
cbc2687a8497b4f7f71b1edd0255eaff7e3219ac
describe
'2030' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHS' 'sip-files00097.txt'
1265fdabf0476769d5b0b113881d71a5
e810b311b752ca5805d8311bbb9fccba92293268
'2011-11-14T21:38:47-05:00'
describe
'9203' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHT' 'sip-files00097thm.jpg'
5c9adcdbd3b208126b509d692bf077c7
d11f830c59b20d35bdc29fb33be4ad9a38a3cbe0
describe
'445903' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHU' 'sip-files00098.jp2'
697ecdf3e0ddb2df7b02224999f848cf
e4de3b25a4dd4c1ec129a718cf6b27a508408cc7
describe
'127634' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHV' 'sip-files00098.jpg'
41e53d8acc82548dc333d24fba5e6bd9
c1ccefc472adef3317aa00889d60008baa9704cf
'2011-11-14T21:36:51-05:00'
describe
'43928' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHW' 'sip-files00098.pro'
70fc2f34a63eb72ec71b7999d287e4ed
7c389ea84b8b7ff6930f456e04895771f9cb944a
describe
'37275' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHX' 'sip-files00098.QC.jpg'
ea7ffff9ecc0f3f4e154ea21eb91fda9
6040ab35f599a41992cc8c7f53c42f650945a9f8
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHY' 'sip-files00098.tif'
66f56b18f12e814cd4348dee5031042a
8f5b6f43145b9fe29412c7c576a7e6341c6c4f2b
'2011-11-14T21:42:09-05:00'
describe
'1809' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIHZ' 'sip-files00098.txt'
32008cd4ab546bc50e08cd4ebe9e896b
acd6762ccc03eba9869a97ec34a4742023a6806c
describe
'9358' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIA' 'sip-files00098thm.jpg'
e6ad11e47619affe336812da0c12181d
57368e70f40a1cef65bc6e3326c08455da22c29d
'2011-11-14T21:42:07-05:00'
describe
'445806' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIB' 'sip-files00099.jp2'
e1326f7ba02bc4091e26f51b7704863f
1703c7bca4c4764717a051992ad6d2a343a32b2f
describe
'170510' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIC' 'sip-files00099.jpg'
e217fa0cc864ce45e26709c8e011bfb2
1ca8d959a68e5ec1f84e88ca29a04e1a39ad0605
describe
'1670' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIID' 'sip-files00099.pro'
159fa45e3d44d0f08e0134cf7b60d21c
aed94a2480fd4c876f5d34e71cd5d77bff2aaea0
describe
'37167' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIE' 'sip-files00099.QC.jpg'
fccc8eb4f136b0aa6be481f10725ece6
1860083f786568065325fcd7d68faa399341b454
'2011-11-14T21:41:49-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIF' 'sip-files00099.tif'
25c3b7b07d97f6a990a5dad4c313e8fb
66d991ac702c8ce0ff18ec53ef7b8cd6355386c0
describe
'202' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIG' 'sip-files00099.txt'
c4abcfefa16af8be17758c85115c4593
9897060ee0fb6ae2d7a09222d9a3f5400004322b
describe
'8478' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIH' 'sip-files00099thm.jpg'
27ac0bcf8bbb77f386d937828b20026a
8a4a66593151ccc30222f1d5bba74f81bd492635
describe
'445860' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIII' 'sip-files00101.jp2'
27fb935950f8ff994b8ec85b093bb506
918174dcc89df7fafac7edb4b7224ea717e97f00
describe
'131663' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIJ' 'sip-files00101.jpg'
afb09c6196aef5c4551749a704a33c5c
6c7c78345bbd915fe741b7c945ff9b62068475cc
'2011-11-14T21:41:00-05:00'
describe
'38595' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIK' 'sip-files00101.pro'
b4d5868206867bb6ca44f3a14dc0fc3c
b32d6640f4bd95d49588e7ec1dc42c75414328aa
describe
'37907' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIL' 'sip-files00101.QC.jpg'
05f8948b1c9991a5bb4e030ce8cfabcb
3401e404b1d008ceceaac7785a1ceb915506989a
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIM' 'sip-files00101.tif'
1bb4c2b192f889462bdd4cb7b0f39761
56b34f55e371206361f791d1028f10c3070e8209
'2011-11-14T21:33:43-05:00'
describe
'1631' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIN' 'sip-files00101.txt'
73ff3f36b6453355982fc526af54b505
8c8dc3f280717a03bdacff175791e4bbe8432bd0
describe
'9034' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIO' 'sip-files00101thm.jpg'
6d94b77d8910992976f7f3cbd39d30ad
f12d672e5c4e158152aad19a683f7e9a5a5894de
describe
'446197' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIP' 'sip-files00102.jp2'
2edcf413b3e2c2f88ceb420626434171
d99033c3cd17272c28f71c90640c8864913e591f
describe
'148778' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIQ' 'sip-files00102.jpg'
9a16afdff02d8deb9013ef3af87c5a64
7b6d8e9a85d41420fec36050be743dc05bcbe3ea
describe
'53518' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIR' 'sip-files00102.pro'
28c897c4f9d114115f15da3cc665911f
b6e4865a4a8b94aefed60933e8e8d3d7c8e8711c
'2011-11-14T21:35:52-05:00'
describe
'42515' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIS' 'sip-files00102.QC.jpg'
27c274e8391bde493b9029835d35f845
03d7d27ae514cd71510d88608de52ee32b27d3b2
'2011-11-14T21:40:51-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIT' 'sip-files00102.tif'
7d527529f008c5d020f784d94fc70fa1
dd1cb8734a21351f9a0c56a2bc1c914905ee1df5
'2011-11-14T21:37:07-05:00'
describe
'2105' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIU' 'sip-files00102.txt'
179e8b59d90f1692621c5188f5493b91
f3d9cffc3b9c85e43944655c597dfa862b856017
describe
'9607' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIV' 'sip-files00102thm.jpg'
c6f639c34f6f69a594109009af203716
6e5a40179c4c05dfd18688f3fbd87010f4699b7f
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIW' 'sip-files00103.jp2'
59569ce7ca8e5fee7313c5e004c605df
472ceef1922f07a92764ef8fbce616bd01e3a240
describe
'133716' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIX' 'sip-files00103.jpg'
f0864c2bf811d60203d289240a0db329
2923c74cee87c7e2e2c0d9a276cbd365a7a7400b
describe
'47417' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIY' 'sip-files00103.pro'
b62cd9bc2a1ac581f40288923228de07
0fe00d4e3fbbc568e23f19ef4f026200faba4006
describe
'38615' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIIZ' 'sip-files00103.QC.jpg'
ceaf4ed5da8dc8d1e47d660a95c6fc10
cb8a4c018a78ce12d2e8e5a543e719e7206a0cb7
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJA' 'sip-files00103.tif'
baf09e3e0eae9e21a49f2f742f62bfbb
0fa13b7246fd2bcf178c9d3319e6c07332820cfa
describe
'1943' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJB' 'sip-files00103.txt'
e1202c9f27b6587d1d05cc5020a26f02
cba8c4a1917e22ee25238fe5ff6b59876e323501
'2011-11-14T21:35:09-05:00'
describe
'9232' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJC' 'sip-files00103thm.jpg'
09dcb60bf61f05c8e5dd6851e1baa627
7f039e2917ee23577d67076f0d90735e4708c7fe
describe
'445891' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJD' 'sip-files00104.jp2'
66b6cf661754f9eb3759a31c37bfb67b
20c23109af87b7a032144bc2cab76409cfce201d
describe
'140317' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJE' 'sip-files00104.jpg'
4ccf92a9aff2ee9084a6d35bc54a3cd0
430aeebdd819963241a08d736757cc648b49c006
'2011-11-14T21:39:57-05:00'
describe
'50490' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJF' 'sip-files00104.pro'
a2fd816599ba861eb17cf486e7c232a1
93009297dc362844397052ca13ebf637814fd693
describe
'40566' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJG' 'sip-files00104.QC.jpg'
a27b8218b6e84f2226f3831b38046b20
2ff3fe4f27ff023c20c4ffffbc5fbba45dd2c939
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJH' 'sip-files00104.tif'
ee8611bcb78fec03b1530a1d2c82f0c3
13331c04ee77652f317df42aa94258ae8e51a413
'2011-11-14T21:40:58-05:00'
describe
'1986' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJI' 'sip-files00104.txt'
5e5d372f66de16c852d610e456ccfc41
4e30f72be7b199b4f655160c4205c7cf9e99d8bc
'2011-11-14T21:33:14-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'9529' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJJ' 'sip-files00104thm.jpg'
4981252a7a10642e4905c74d00d7bbaa
fc164278711a9cad79c0c8c9cf77017de461f4f9
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJK' 'sip-files00105.jp2'
521e2225295e2943c375f82a1d5b3aa3
749b7249f021ba54f05ab540ade8ee9eefb7cda9
'2011-11-14T21:35:40-05:00'
describe
'149582' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJL' 'sip-files00105.jpg'
7b6fe2429b897bbbaa77701187b7df0c
658bd244dc31077bbde76505ab830e3dbc92ec68
describe
'52297' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJM' 'sip-files00105.pro'
56a6ad2500b365e48ee90fcdc9fda938
f9db7dae94e2cbedfa81c5c01762e0af5fd9ef65
'2011-11-14T21:35:39-05:00'
describe
'41970' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJN' 'sip-files00105.QC.jpg'
7f7790dfbb78bb1bcb3cae03c1a03e86
b1fd42aedac1f7ca41ee8eab6f9f9c991bf92770
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJO' 'sip-files00105.tif'
d7e755506b416c75edae64d55a6a7337
d7b26e2050082f3bc3faee26f891f034cb795dc5
'2011-11-14T21:35:38-05:00'
describe
'2151' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJP' 'sip-files00105.txt'
3af8379c63b89e3d35f6f7d0a9c3ff89
7dad82b5442b6eccd5b73965099e221741fd445a
'2011-11-14T21:38:06-05:00'
describe
'9602' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJQ' 'sip-files00105thm.jpg'
eb4dde9a5bd0cd327f848b3c3a84b4f7
c3af85a2d56c02a6fbe1a0d27e863f8628c9b6b5
'2011-11-14T21:41:16-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJR' 'sip-files00106.jp2'
cd9465ef46dc81be79e5e0b7ccbed110
48ba764e011f7c34aacffae3bf6ca8d5063a17dd
'2011-11-14T21:40:47-05:00'
describe
'142117' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJS' 'sip-files00106.jpg'
d9e720d1ebf59fb8899770272f062323
9a516956e9f34fd20ee8a4474f1e76082c1ca4ef
describe
'50260' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJT' 'sip-files00106.pro'
4b300b0a9d6532d67269b4ae737bc32d
32346c7bc5ddbfbbddfdfde91c311dfb8124eae0
'2011-11-14T21:41:24-05:00'
describe
'40748' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJU' 'sip-files00106.QC.jpg'
83643e456a09ca3b9bfe9d55e8f56151
5d31999149c28b890518c070474e2d29ad1bb2ec
'2011-11-14T21:40:15-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJV' 'sip-files00106.tif'
34d8e2b028188e106b1db8142b11af08
f94aeefc916e5583f188e9ef05ef6ebbb12b78c8
describe
'2068' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJW' 'sip-files00106.txt'
66adbc9119e1addbec3dbc5925ce1405
0e17fd2c027d5f915e84ad96e4405232e8223c54
'2011-11-14T21:34:53-05:00'
describe
'9531' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJX' 'sip-files00106thm.jpg'
a7c5ab13570062220c27e34793b0e056
386bfd7aae88307e144cda342013d4ce7f2f71ed
describe
'445812' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJY' 'sip-files00107.jp2'
ba9246b3fe8ebcad829dd51f92a564f6
d65ece7e3f5a9f444dc8606642038ebf696752dd
describe
'149412' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIJZ' 'sip-files00107.jpg'
4620b11136e5ea602d92e55693633531
62f8e3daa66a7e220aa9d534735d96317a5a7705
describe
'51141' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKA' 'sip-files00107.pro'
2ef0605e5bfa648fb4b4245b31719b71
d6f87ed748bf9c837dbd05f68e8ef53b9f5e73e0
'2011-11-14T21:36:12-05:00'
describe
'42514' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKB' 'sip-files00107.QC.jpg'
d5ee80d2b05a9aedbdf6a644308b73d1
826de667974ccc639ca581678578747a0fa68296
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKC' 'sip-files00107.tif'
c79b176be5bd9e1c47d989e372fd90a6
4e032576bc2655bacb348c3e40150879fb07fa65
describe
'2136' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKD' 'sip-files00107.txt'
336b247cc119fbf429f5ebbbe47a20ef
1337f30257f995215ed5d3881623e3f35f064bc0
'2011-11-14T21:40:29-05:00'
describe
'9807' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKE' 'sip-files00107thm.jpg'
bb2b6a2360c2eaf96b09ddefd293f50f
310ea71bd88580fa05f20625d7eef6c9454242ec
'2011-11-14T21:35:12-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKF' 'sip-files00108.jp2'
775e7161304065fd7f47226f585322bb
e6eb7d106ff4c4f537af10c5ef74cdefa7474ef5
describe
'140196' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKG' 'sip-files00108.jpg'
1ac506cf5d517841445f57d8196c3eb7
7400c94a38c3ecef1eadaeb3390c152ff1be784e
describe
'47721' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKH' 'sip-files00108.pro'
c482476ced9f438e6602819023e59c91
0b6d1b50c6dc42798bb3faabd164235a0f6558ae
describe
'40170' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKI' 'sip-files00108.QC.jpg'
14c7df585486e08171253a6e144c6091
d8a9e30253d00b4230d2a01d5f1fa0829a8bc41f
'2011-11-14T21:39:34-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKJ' 'sip-files00108.tif'
0c8dc08c258123904b4ea04c59824bfe
cc349f124297663145afe3b1923283b423c82d7d
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKK' 'sip-files00108.txt'
84874e52a6f640786d715747d1d6b6f1
0b10b10c84a747be85886aa7539503132a08a0ba
describe
'9122' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKL' 'sip-files00108thm.jpg'
c7cc275692f39b71ee05175acf1ac6e7
5e400865e3ef5adf979065a29c5fddba715230e0
describe
'445709' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKM' 'sip-files00109.jp2'
bce6a3cbc5935f154c3a14a8bee60b65
f741207512e22a42b0ff0157a4d2947adb837425
describe
'141127' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKN' 'sip-files00109.jpg'
27e9316f0d0ef7f3aade05174d585c7d
0e9611dc7062ce9d39e936539f40896c82130326
describe
'2480' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKO' 'sip-files00109.pro'
69f79bb44cb9b2bb6705b62a61772d5e
460c863108f71349b1f74a8ea240cc827fc94f43
describe
'30495' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKP' 'sip-files00109.QC.jpg'
15bd622a66f7d10bb152a119d018ea67
aca0b1cb139d9fff9634efaf194294e7e4c3a651
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKQ' 'sip-files00109.tif'
c1ec7b03c572278c6616285f1e3ce444
0f7520e8bcd1bf87a0b0b7d41ad6ec5abd37546b
describe
'210' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKR' 'sip-files00109.txt'
fdf47f42f4e5b69329243d9eb45fa28d
43389b83108540555a9a24ea744e8e729d0868e0
describe
Invalid character
'6755' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKS' 'sip-files00109thm.jpg'
5d9f6bd8b4ed697b7cce7268f4a3d857
80d29c0aa9fbbc31c29b1ca229ba5a50c2fe046e
describe
'445827' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKT' 'sip-files00111.jp2'
e30a644e5e84cb1d6119c9dce187d3bd
fb289d8dfc155ecc960bb0341b782eaf33a86cf0
'2011-11-14T21:38:33-05:00'
describe
'154199' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKU' 'sip-files00111.jpg'
c310c369dc0b243fb69b26cf01121ced
74243fd37fb0398f44213da5f3e9605ae7332e96
'2011-11-14T21:38:46-05:00'
describe
'57553' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKV' 'sip-files00111.pro'
8ccd67f34a51b91891f2d18246cb225b
890d218bb14e1b19247b747bf41660b37daf9256
describe
'43527' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKW' 'sip-files00111.QC.jpg'
d4931d9061457961700a4d49357c2d51
12a93c9e525000b99741bcb16aecfc085709fec9
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKX' 'sip-files00111.tif'
29ea9b6feaa5d393e4db0d57a18c69d3
72d28dfb76be9d2676b7cef8a57cf85ad461f2ac
describe
'2323' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKY' 'sip-files00111.txt'
503c851d0e37f1defb7906a93dd109ad
2146cf167b35c4d5684f939c33068806d241cebf
describe
'9697' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIKZ' 'sip-files00111thm.jpg'
a892871a820229bd6e3c1f3dd8f8ae94
27640e80adbe3754bbd0daeb378f868ef6a44458
'2011-11-14T21:39:33-05:00'
describe
'445802' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILA' 'sip-files00112.jp2'
1b9e67e06cca19fed05f5f83d5246131
31fb5834069a9fe22ce7a27ea1f9d3e842d1a8c2
describe
'140214' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILB' 'sip-files00112.jpg'
c228d1ebf9ec0aeb86a780a8c5d5d488
c30e37c68dd5068a3836d05c566d5f57d43f2ebf
describe
'50458' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILC' 'sip-files00112.pro'
d82ea15a9b1a4a9d14c4e5a437edc9d4
0491ddc6f9dcc1a47d5a037aef27d74a79f5d88d
'2011-11-14T21:37:34-05:00'
describe
'39482' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILD' 'sip-files00112.QC.jpg'
b9354513579c42fce0eee6463212c624
259f62c034eb9f376d61b79797caf392ab85e949
'2011-11-14T21:35:49-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILE' 'sip-files00112.tif'
356ab9a3bcfb9c58bd384a7770237041
23988d35139ede7e28151e8b47f8e4f999e841fd
'2011-11-14T21:37:43-05:00'
describe
'2109' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILF' 'sip-files00112.txt'
eecd9fdd9198c45db5f64633a3bda6f0
0600ce8453df7cbf4f4f9b55e7ca1ac708ecc1da
describe
'8911' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILG' 'sip-files00112thm.jpg'
212aac435410384720c8f9bae140ea24
82a5902204be089394e0dc47983cccd590205952
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILH' 'sip-files00113.jp2'
167e3d601c5f9f6c672039071c7a614b
006f5b8d2e6a41bd5e7438150a13a442e17164fb
describe
'121192' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILI' 'sip-files00113.jpg'
047075e4841ae7c5ef70429b2e61b203
9fb868ba58290d7a8d765eba7a2037832636cff3
'2011-11-14T21:38:39-05:00'
describe
'42907' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILJ' 'sip-files00113.pro'
821196a335792fa89bceb2177c5b5952
b64c1de0f65039e0921204fe240217b2939925fb
describe
'34137' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILK' 'sip-files00113.QC.jpg'
e2927e2364644407fbd08f341812a932
8c612a88a2eb680060cfa8661bb637948c303f6f
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILL' 'sip-files00113.tif'
b206189b2771acffd009fb41380ee091
c89aef8c96580cfb8331b766d95ea331a9f6cbb0
describe
'1929' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILM' 'sip-files00113.txt'
f1ab74e9fb8ff00efe3b69766cb476eb
1e8c259768f43e8d64fe8e779b6a0a936d37cf68
describe
'7979' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILN' 'sip-files00113thm.jpg'
7a9edb5117884e90c12a5f989e84814a
646855b0e7f6d1eabf9fe5a70af25a55303e66cd
'2011-11-14T21:38:53-05:00'
describe
'446147' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILO' 'sip-files00114.jp2'
0bb398c4e8de422fd0aee422caccef03
1c5d76876ee7c7918a4825da693e218facfbd98a
'2011-11-14T21:39:06-05:00'
describe
'147102' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILP' 'sip-files00114.jpg'
ae2cdc136aaa53440c5819a16a618e7d
7be113f42843f99a27e4e8eebed90d4113a88666
describe
'51923' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILQ' 'sip-files00114.pro'
7f68edaaa04691b6b97ae4e4373c6c8d
7e6227b6b24d76596a9b0fc180f5e1d39355f5ad
describe
'42219' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILR' 'sip-files00114.QC.jpg'
7ac138f556bcb63b4e461d4be608372b
e873a60d263b3c46a5b42848f63d66bdbc1697cd
'2011-11-14T21:33:46-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILS' 'sip-files00114.tif'
9831d3b17e482630bfe7ac2d6f3f93a2
74447b857148fde1acda3b9d1a81f01ee243382e
'2011-11-14T21:37:13-05:00'
describe
'2065' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILT' 'sip-files00114.txt'
77a1314b3ea9e9f4f954e008d148b3b3
544c75cf3b239b4582b058306bbeee970e695195
'2011-11-14T21:42:19-05:00'
describe
Invalid character
'9601' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILU' 'sip-files00114thm.jpg'
f3b07e5d47b28fd692069b0e6ec3da36
2b24aee705b53f0b3a9873fe7d180dbc139fd414
describe
'445877' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILV' 'sip-files00115.jp2'
f765d27960df4f7617bacb8ddc6102aa
91184dc36ed3ac7661b4ca742ef43ede2c01da78
describe
'140101' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILW' 'sip-files00115.jpg'
7b7c1a3f8467464d45fd017ecf9c41f4
9eaaceefdb294841b3a4ed37aea5979acc4be5a6
describe
'48498' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILX' 'sip-files00115.pro'
77037dd270f533b73bb9042875264690
29080dae7356236458052ffd982afbc39f01cf74
'2011-11-14T21:36:19-05:00'
describe
'40162' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILY' 'sip-files00115.QC.jpg'
9dd32553ce206851c7496a2b2abae75a
6765328bd3bacfccdafa5eb1642ad03856e6f689
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAILZ' 'sip-files00115.tif'
811803a135983771ab0b724bbbb9af04
2bbbd49c2206591c40b3b05711708a24713694a6
describe
'2020' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMA' 'sip-files00115.txt'
5b6d0fa05908d3846b7a0831b48fb5aa
8c24b5b25fc0be1ffbf9a85e61690e3f6a392400
'2011-11-14T21:38:14-05:00'
describe
'9221' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMB' 'sip-files00115thm.jpg'
a0ba07e9d3c7895eec5d0418877eb667
4d56aafc5c7719b19b8bf43b42d0ae2a2608d51b
describe
'444135' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMC' 'sip-files00116.jp2'
e3a42e0ccf6802877acd9dd391de7e8c
7deac25758ce234ff80a9a6fb7ccf6a57e1033ea
describe
'141152' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMD' 'sip-files00116.jpg'
13a29831552f9875ee36786b85bec83f
6595660061a617712bf0022f5c11c49282dc0f84
describe
'49206' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIME' 'sip-files00116.pro'
0326043549d4b024d827783f7e3452e4
1f9d138e8d34bb29b27b33cbb20a043dc16c86ce
describe
'40633' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMF' 'sip-files00116.QC.jpg'
627552dda721cc9a539f6930e7eebdbe
58133b499807cd0b64f93d85fce82b21c0158cbe
describe
'3569684' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMG' 'sip-files00116.tif'
7a9c14e6caa5ad1b2b8e1e3bc5dc960e
7c36545315bc47817d2f6b91b2012e85bf5f6769
describe
'1945' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMH' 'sip-files00116.txt'
13c5b4629556190a9aafa38c0e19914b
48c2c316f953d749050d97d4a9ae17a2fd756420
describe
'9557' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMI' 'sip-files00116thm.jpg'
c25db0f1cf262fe0e95f492686cc37b7
2dedd4642e1459632f4d752e5fee3485fa2053ad
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMJ' 'sip-files00117.jp2'
eb109a54c373fa0303945ef414900635
4e5805551adad129d1551ef46b22fe4984c83a81
describe
'137586' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMK' 'sip-files00117.jpg'
211ea708d116a62f159bb3ba77303e51
2606e3a6cad24eb3ccaa45ec7bed261f005cc952
describe
'47733' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIML' 'sip-files00117.pro'
d7f10556f3d6afbb3b0fdae00fa747a2
d6a1b9f1889ca060c39e817d13c15b82126d9b9f
describe
'38876' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMM' 'sip-files00117.QC.jpg'
2f4ebbd698d7b77bc2a92abe3ef10a6f
920d819b139ebec9f3cc7419d09475f03377848c
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMN' 'sip-files00117.tif'
61d56b4cd1085ac47c6c45eb87ba6d5a
0300a9414e292611d16796452893faf5a1bcd8fc
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMO' 'sip-files00117.txt'
9082d80b97e528d90419f93622c0dcbe
e30c0be98fce9a5e015dadc0f05ac35af27f8d40
describe
'9301' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMP' 'sip-files00117thm.jpg'
13d899d608a7d6a66af9524dd5d916d1
8cc81a8b13aeed663a1961319d06660bc46de551
'2011-11-14T21:34:15-05:00'
describe
'445888' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMQ' 'sip-files00118.jp2'
57f34a046dfd4fb77121c266bf0f3f43
93b57280f38ae887fd0fc6871545731698eca9d5
'2011-11-14T21:36:15-05:00'
describe
'138191' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMR' 'sip-files00118.jpg'
6ab4767cc9a15459faa2c1569f6e60b4
0bead7c700c6fe8bcf14157511b810b2732ce370
'2011-11-14T21:37:10-05:00'
describe
'47828' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMS' 'sip-files00118.pro'
14339b764a16be9d1eae294ab67ada1d
00e898ba172cbcefe608fc2b6d62200321072092
describe
'39268' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMT' 'sip-files00118.QC.jpg'
5a8730f9b617393a3210a3f6d3378e93
9ee17a83434bde9a625704121158e92710156d5e
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMU' 'sip-files00118.tif'
5c1bad905ebba527757eb20d5a7bffe8
92a4b2f89b766479fac0cb5cc3928bd11a69ccc3
describe
'2008' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMV' 'sip-files00118.txt'
fb882bab6f5533c1d8a6031777baf946
c1d19a85356b21c7d5352751903152d290bd41bc
describe
'8992' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMW' 'sip-files00118thm.jpg'
5b662763a36d8d7d5db00b4433afb07a
06f79c8349816fc853ada7159ab61f30f866bba9
describe
'445889' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMX' 'sip-files00119.jp2'
6aedbdf59574bb40c7746bea84362571
10a4984778ba07309384e87bab7b8c453f21e7af
'2011-11-14T21:38:27-05:00'
describe
'149719' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMY' 'sip-files00119.jpg'
ea78dc767d4a93ae9e1cc73509e4368f
44704fda133dbfcefe0588c978268d36169e114c
'2011-11-14T21:41:32-05:00'
describe
'55516' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIMZ' 'sip-files00119.pro'
628da01a204461f7f2814e0642a0ca9f
998069e66e86dc5aca6dfc3ce3d6b11bf84f13b0
'2011-11-14T21:36:38-05:00'
describe
'42299' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINA' 'sip-files00119.QC.jpg'
560d4c1ebfdae91242a373e68d6f40dc
17ea5936f5165ad4a975dee7fd62d62163a0851d
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINB' 'sip-files00119.tif'
37f3429d1dcac37c9bcd9c8a7cba5012
1e5bf800767fa8815135d55ddab990dd80e70ec5
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINC' 'sip-files00119.txt'
2c633858482bbda88ce27f7382c47e14
6c6031ce91a456f32331ed3e72ea21e3c6a8ab7c
describe
'9613' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIND' 'sip-files00119thm.jpg'
59bdb2361955dfef1b15d4356d777b80
06f8af36f5883ccf9dc0f77b935c8b9e1f913329
'2011-11-14T21:37:02-05:00'
describe
'445885' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINE' 'sip-files00120.jp2'
91be493cfd4349c1e4e5c893a05fe41d
15a6792c05b68d95d9dea8f8025cf49074612090
describe
'136294' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINF' 'sip-files00120.jpg'
878fdd32f5bee23a68243049851af6cd
7df4c36c4d9dfbc4b0a64292d9f6fd5e48222362
describe
'48185' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAING' 'sip-files00120.pro'
600d8cb31576ad54012653207ee72eed
0f7f4ddacc1f2f331fea1cf004bd83afa313c74d
describe
'38530' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINH' 'sip-files00120.QC.jpg'
4ace9fead91f7b186c5d46132d03a410
4325e5c47fcc8b3c610a6aec9d84f2c19f78e27d
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINI' 'sip-files00120.tif'
6090b894eab60c898631b47ce5249f01
f594822c5411eb36ba721a2b6e6e5a0cf596e343
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINJ' 'sip-files00120.txt'
45f923466fad26908d3a26ba4296c7aa
2221cb642913280f6f09b484580f026961619eaf
describe
'8958' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINK' 'sip-files00120thm.jpg'
5c6438d9d7139264da8bce8162062870
b4ed40cd64a1400753a70408a5596fbb0230a74f
describe
'445825' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINL' 'sip-files00121.jp2'
d8b320333b7751d9c5f56aaf3d980348
86e7c7e40c1e2dce00869f22a31b8890ae2fdc3f
describe
'137556' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINM' 'sip-files00121.jpg'
febae1db330f38e9b7e9e0bb08e09296
c77e63580d6d25eef90185d6fa878df29ef57b61
describe
'48284' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINN' 'sip-files00121.pro'
9eebca2dfe61daa6d673f93a3eb3397c
e76a681eb798073ef7696291470d62420fe6f3f5
'2011-11-14T21:36:40-05:00'
describe
'39364' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINO' 'sip-files00121.QC.jpg'
bbe79f200c9547e929e20d9114d1066b
863d26daa9c1a204d566c145655fac306e1330c1
'2011-11-14T21:41:11-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINP' 'sip-files00121.tif'
6e6538e355fcee31ce31a422ff953334
9d343f5b3c71404cb818d5b2f021e0996519754c
describe
'2042' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINQ' 'sip-files00121.txt'
361392bdb0ebdd0d5ba593165dcaff68
fb64a3547609840c538967d3108ab4e298676273
describe
'8904' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINR' 'sip-files00121thm.jpg'
2ab7d3c5dcaa45549d7b3c2a43ec4192
c292cd43d930c24a4d570eb0d3eef631b6668662
describe
'446202' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINS' 'sip-files00122.jp2'
d6abea858c59a78a249dd6acaa5a81e5
47c4370ff836e142a969ce2ffad23b8f5363c75b
'2011-11-14T21:37:32-05:00'
describe
'147802' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINT' 'sip-files00122.jpg'
dfb80a89f7816b911de7de751c812667
7bd2ef2907681d1f6ee737e188ac1b5584f51e2a
'2011-11-14T21:41:06-05:00'
describe
'52160' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINU' 'sip-files00122.pro'
b88c207ef1dc1f018e8ae8e15b323642
07eb624ebf9bebbc93289f923d666cc1529b8de9
describe
'41630' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINV' 'sip-files00122.QC.jpg'
d226b5302fa9bc08c421d4ce357a4968
748f1ca629b3dd333d15bff0b5d3dbd1593a81b3
'2011-11-14T21:37:55-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINW' 'sip-files00122.tif'
49ab13543b5f44bf4d45fdbe5f3d6fdc
b2648d8827b5faa2346201438f85cc20fe0722e8
describe
'2067' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINX' 'sip-files00122.txt'
cdb01d22277f52d9a669b5b26d36c194
095c136155f9b6d2905804e6c5ad40c6c46c34be
describe
'9496' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINY' 'sip-files00122thm.jpg'
fde0026135daeab76e110c94a1e601e3
dd230c989db1e364a8e629fbca9466d05646e72c
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAINZ' 'sip-files00123.jp2'
20da9c60b9c8a95f466e244831e4d52a
15ea00be6c15bae66ea0c1260deda6b653f9f391
describe
'134914' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOA' 'sip-files00123.jpg'
1d3c8c30976f6e2449fe23b1c991d919
9870ef28fca375c9212d3062cfcb8b45b159375e
describe
'47376' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOB' 'sip-files00123.pro'
e04ec55f633c886d8c4319ecf62ba352
8f8d738cb532bc5bb26321c211d5f4c28ec7b0c8
'2011-11-14T21:37:50-05:00'
describe
'37946' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOC' 'sip-files00123.QC.jpg'
5367d139edd41bf528554082f6300a3f
0d477ef90dd1478be47d2a3a138a4cb61fa27d76
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOD' 'sip-files00123.tif'
2596600857547699a3feeb75224b07bb
f636708e936649d16c6db648808057c837e6d128
describe
'1941' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOE' 'sip-files00123.txt'
73f90bb182019eed491fc8a7ba968e20
49d2768a9ff8242a2379809988bc7f4de946393a
'2011-11-14T21:34:33-05:00'
describe
'8741' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOF' 'sip-files00123thm.jpg'
dce4043c6928eb8eb5a5b0edb8f697a1
ce21873e8d4f19b4c3a4050f7586b630afacc853
describe
'446138' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOG' 'sip-files00124.jp2'
37bf85cd13f67e6b9b77196ff23b0fd1
ec8049d046894c70175f72f73010f583c1e05dfd
describe
'135127' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOH' 'sip-files00124.jpg'
07b58f9991be2070fe4b5ecda3f05dfe
3165d91fb99172875fe1b7d9dfa073571d96bd38
describe
'25822' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOI' 'sip-files00124.pro'
afb0d2ba38dff1e3b387e5389833ba07
82d2a908cfa982ec22e995cdaf78adcbad291800
describe
'35815' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOJ' 'sip-files00124.QC.jpg'
f27c5d8b1a3f6789beeb604bd1f652d5
43236e96dd085421e7da385e28aafe0ef13445ea
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOK' 'sip-files00124.tif'
33e34cc8f0846b08bfef587d77ead6bb
468217d8b1321d4188401ee529248931063725c6
describe
'1019' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOL' 'sip-files00124.txt'
0496d6fa5d2d881c75fdadd28c653a50
baaea9d0d8570abe97d204c9e1583f113b4d0fd6
'2011-11-14T21:42:03-05:00'
describe
'8256' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOM' 'sip-files00124thm.jpg'
21f5497f4d9e5a8824c94cc2cb5a6525
65c29ba968d3dcbc3e66056e77b2f1661b585cf6
describe
'445846' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAION' 'sip-files00125.jp2'
f548e30f4b1288df2a79534e11b4494a
d3cae349a8fa1f4f656040ef446e5af50b1a1060
'2011-11-14T21:36:49-05:00'
describe
'138794' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOO' 'sip-files00125.jpg'
c3792afdf743a05bfd9a0e2d101e53cf
559970d40bf0072b1a019efe1c93b27ac29bf52f
'2011-11-14T21:34:17-05:00'
describe
'49622' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOP' 'sip-files00125.pro'
a30c2581fb0b30d114e08613ee154119
160aaf15855914c87556592e53e22360d2236be3
describe
'38994' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOQ' 'sip-files00125.QC.jpg'
d4af9a85377fc75c3825ae113fc0fb21
86afa01debc28b4099a54cf2482cec2acba194e4
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOR' 'sip-files00125.tif'
80ee26f0676f7f6c47f5106968d7b8f4
7570fcb0503d45d661e2c2182652157daaa2e4a8
'2011-11-14T21:37:48-05:00'
describe
'1987' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOS' 'sip-files00125.txt'
005f80ca50500a6edc053f112ccce92d
3ef095e6345514b8095a609e5a3227b61a14943c
describe
'8645' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOT' 'sip-files00125thm.jpg'
aa138714a3a39682c82287b6f05e3bb8
65a261d90e91d1f1c3c9fe08e4f7e76130c079de
'2011-11-14T21:40:36-05:00'
describe
'446184' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOU' 'sip-files00126.jp2'
0f92dac9db976e7123f6ff064127b883
7e3aa523f5727ea0abdb3624e2ab403f56bd0120
describe
'142316' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOV' 'sip-files00126.jpg'
ee62103fb767607d4723c3203c1387a1
7136fdadb42b9d34fa03d0c18cebe40ac9e692dd
'2011-11-14T21:36:14-05:00'
describe
'49327' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOW' 'sip-files00126.pro'
b802823a8d945a84ace1875aeebe99c1
486cd2e8aa1218dbc1aec1f804875a68a3c3216e
describe
'39622' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOX' 'sip-files00126.QC.jpg'
efa2e42ef71d38b3f634d3487145a0a6
bfbdc32bc0d491650526ea2ecee0501cfd8ec12e
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOY' 'sip-files00126.tif'
5e4fe3a3809404daa5ae2c30affe45f0
3eaacb092d5922a5cbc6b7d4a014d53585cdd73e
'2011-11-14T21:38:42-05:00'
describe
'1951' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIOZ' 'sip-files00126.txt'
947b5546f6cf98b985e4ef864d743c9b
5e5b986f3436db6b8e779b4d985547dede37db3f
describe
'9265' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPA' 'sip-files00126thm.jpg'
3992898636a41dcfc9c6b9631069e213
1f7337e9f32cb597fdf3a9b148b014498a080942
describe
'445844' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPB' 'sip-files00127.jp2'
92855f1d33af5ecd28524f3bdc8e6428
0721a3cde2fde3897222ea0c825320d8ba090cd9
describe
'145980' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPC' 'sip-files00127.jpg'
b866820e999eb9663c95cede4d067289
d9a2a5511c7ff404adf95b85719bd3790ea28fe2
'2011-11-14T21:35:24-05:00'
describe
'51942' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPD' 'sip-files00127.pro'
753c49fe6ac69e9ce2478141ed999200
11ddc47f3a2967f41550efefa27cd1d0413d8d16
describe
'40719' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPE' 'sip-files00127.QC.jpg'
224af943b9bd9f7c66d0dafe9ec95e6a
52faf1ab1e12a123a9cc66ad01dcf0b3797f8855
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPF' 'sip-files00127.tif'
7d3e07439faeb221771689e78f9e5b74
2f8ef7eae5de6430aa10fd17448356a7b92c0e9e
describe
'2058' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPG' 'sip-files00127.txt'
3943abfdba3deed0bb88e7ae0cc08388
cdca36fb9b9bfaa87bdd229619891c359672210e
'2011-11-14T21:39:28-05:00'
describe
'9482' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPH' 'sip-files00127thm.jpg'
87365366487c8b49cda610bd35d86db6
b5997400b46a4e1021255c7b9d52e46ef839b2f0
'2011-11-14T21:40:42-05:00'
describe
'446203' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPI' 'sip-files00128.jp2'
c69e5987d6082d1c8f639ea699847304
a380c41d58b117079b271353833195a3d90d97a6
describe
'145252' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPJ' 'sip-files00128.jpg'
8f005a517fddbe8f66dc570d6ac145cb
270a32b0c4b2956f2e0fb92be8f349c463565476
describe
'51455' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPK' 'sip-files00128.pro'
b5a781bc070e8352d49be13bb85d1488
369f0bfa8a266ccdf2df7e2bdd9690511d42b1ac
describe
'40939' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPL' 'sip-files00128.QC.jpg'
2c5301f9e51af02c86de1ee96f9a5623
6764ef54f6d25a19b7f4169642827e84ccd079e3
'2011-11-14T21:34:25-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPM' 'sip-files00128.tif'
14879641140e81fbc8551eeef1325d40
01c4ee0c94ec45e7ade9890a7ef04e7e5106992b
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPN' 'sip-files00128.txt'
1a03af84251ccebe2344f859ace74080
e90e04c2f31a61ef60fcb17f99c772c1dccf5392
describe
'9296' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPO' 'sip-files00128thm.jpg'
631f3a2745d2a7c5c63df449664cfac9
f10475c75fa497e750a2d8fc18d13901c51f45dc
'2011-11-14T21:39:55-05:00'
describe
'445767' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPP' 'sip-files00129.jp2'
67a76ad8b8794c10308f93ff3df11e52
ade62de074620f8f9cb076155d08a8e93414945c
describe
'149433' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPQ' 'sip-files00129.jpg'
a9da84c94329533512d77047e6442350
9e25af99f2617156396458730e2813cb619cead9
describe
'1542' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPR' 'sip-files00129.pro'
c0b9daf0f924dab00a525f6bac275d22
c3fdb6887841011d72d54df6dc5af0256fb8371f
'2011-11-14T21:35:21-05:00'
describe
'33540' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPS' 'sip-files00129.QC.jpg'
b817f7f9a2a123a8690951b65e058a76
fc638a57f2b06686494a9932dcee5e4ce59f494a
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPT' 'sip-files00129.tif'
6236792deef22504a05b8c4c309e7aba
dc710001fdec834fafdaf501273b546adf1f3907
describe
'166' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPU' 'sip-files00129.txt'
3774cf05aa9fbb5eb81e55131a8bed81
a1cb349a90d6fa29e580e03c442a1e4ff7b2c32d
describe
'7323' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPV' 'sip-files00129thm.jpg'
5fa286bb89e9092e74b0810d3bce1dc2
286d2c1bb8815ba328ec555ed6180fbed66f05d4
describe
'445874' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPW' 'sip-files00131.jp2'
4a7d9552ccf66df75650a121a3b266ac
fd6f166cfdcb6d1eda0b8d1cc49f96d3159ebc0b
describe
'144305' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPX' 'sip-files00131.jpg'
1e5bfdd5ebf72384df74cc4da0e7c7fc
9fcb519a549c3404ddd8aebf6eb5a49899c5252a
describe
'51113' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPY' 'sip-files00131.pro'
d294a0f13e0854608dc8db45aa7b8491
b7768777c08ff3c878852ff6e5c1e5d0c3ed672e
describe
'40787' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIPZ' 'sip-files00131.QC.jpg'
75f7e56ba4cdada0061c4e91933bcf0a
fd028f75431bacf606a1e3fc29b74ce54aff16d3
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQA' 'sip-files00131.tif'
96865054e50701b6acf0984eff84e7d8
989675a711631c71b306dd3cd357c975e9f80eff
'2011-11-14T21:37:40-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQB' 'sip-files00131.txt'
be9bac4c4f4f5ddc976b619967a02b7a
86c9b58675c1e63a6d70a8519e9cea7fc97d3fac
describe
'9111' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQC' 'sip-files00131thm.jpg'
4bff1f38bea2689a1c244833d988bcc2
ad3ba68f3b76c461a77f4291fca4b2241520e1f1
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQD' 'sip-files00132.jp2'
3810bce4ee4e0b8be350c1e84b89a932
ad9b331f71a5de39fab0f5aa49207c0dba25c6f4
describe
'135392' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQE' 'sip-files00132.jpg'
7a0ba9c1c84178214f4c9e9c94f39b57
7d9c3273eb3f93300bdc2e09acb3a032757bc2dc
describe
'49312' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQF' 'sip-files00132.pro'
21f90f5734d271ddf67fd0a4a72cfe96
7099fb3d6a038508fe08b1ddde250634feffc890
describe
'38227' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQG' 'sip-files00132.QC.jpg'
3db0f8437fd4056d3bd2671dedae1f58
17d2a60d2611920fe98191d34b8d8105f754b3e3
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQH' 'sip-files00132.tif'
d95840cd1ca975fe09864dd74ad20b08
5df81607536aafa890a6dae412b8afcc8b19a405
'2011-11-14T21:35:02-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQI' 'sip-files00132.txt'
9f181f15dddfdf747c49bf5d592e756a
4e5bf0be256f4d18727dd5ac91399264b1f3b8e4
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQJ' 'sip-files00132thm.jpg'
3a99050ab1cd51bfd5f98ab1c4ecdb69
d195dec3aa6cf5c90df6b161be33d749e8a59044
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQK' 'sip-files00133.jp2'
a6b5e63f5be682583899f2f854c15650
833fa0af821a3c4b035296ab40893acbb9d3194e
describe
'132818' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQL' 'sip-files00133.jpg'
ed1a2d39112028dded27c6aef2f751cd
fcc8588c95ca3505ef4f19a157df57e10010982b
'2011-11-14T21:35:48-05:00'
describe
'2534' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQM' 'sip-files00133.pro'
6beaf8eb3ae38255a1211442f2e7ca06
61a2f60acd6b1123a0257e715b90edf44b7e879d
describe
'29431' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQN' 'sip-files00133.QC.jpg'
2a8f3bf29187d74febeae21c4caa5399
4295b228f10dc67bb5ad18b9e019756d8f90e587
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQO' 'sip-files00133.tif'
01ed0b97c5097c9295367b67d2b7c07a
3217da91b5b7fd176a3e7a0f72108dbd25283a03
describe
'204' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQP' 'sip-files00133.txt'
e23e317db27ec0039fd9c54b9bfc5a0d
e5a41a48e5b5b1445b7a6ef3ba72c782cb5b2e45
describe
Invalid character
'6852' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQQ' 'sip-files00133thm.jpg'
f7822966d95369fcf707ccb2b56a2ba0
10d51a6713a2eb16e19d65d4049fd41306f6b185
'2011-11-14T21:33:37-05:00'
describe
'446139' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQR' 'sip-files00135.jp2'
7f6828d1934ec4208c9a17723199d268
ac5ad5707bfb7602ced551b19c0365315d4b05e9
describe
'126276' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQS' 'sip-files00135.jpg'
6f770e11e57e2dd4e93768131d0ccfc5
3695793d8afcdf8e551b434ca432ae915071bdf6
describe
'44146' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQT' 'sip-files00135.pro'
a384df410345edaff7721b8f4375069c
cd9b7817b2d85a7615785ba3694d2f538a496f10
describe
'36135' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQU' 'sip-files00135.QC.jpg'
c029325b114e85c0e7b665c622a53fa7
f15e0035be810bf2e9e006834cf3b667633d313e
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQV' 'sip-files00135.tif'
f465109e28fec3974fb4f2cb2b91ccf7
3d362567387588c73d8dc4407bdf1fd9e198c7a3
'2011-11-14T21:42:22-05:00'
describe
'1851' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQW' 'sip-files00135.txt'
4aaa980cd1c2bbcbdae05335baffc66b
67cb6120d3bd5c993df13128ec0557ee00acbb1b
describe
'8552' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQX' 'sip-files00135thm.jpg'
666f23f29893ffb47b2a5ce542028f29
06eaf3d04ace24ae745a92d11aa4c876c48054e5
'2011-11-14T21:37:04-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQY' 'sip-files00136.jp2'
afaf57148a06129c9f6d7d0ad973d79e
637f048096a915f8f5f36b3095c2cfd7738ebab0
describe
'150430' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIQZ' 'sip-files00136.jpg'
e996add7e1d1dfb6b77c20f417c080e0
1a063774d6624cb4e3c1e5846b5f711434aa9af4
describe
'24080' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRA' 'sip-files00136.pro'
51f2fbc28f25592953103e30d588c2cd
875fca6ac321f98db5f6623efb2bba5d2f9fb457
'2011-11-14T21:41:14-05:00'
describe
'38957' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRB' 'sip-files00136.QC.jpg'
239a19951c2bacd26b181b26b249647d
0f28df7135607ee9ecadbb6e464e2a1a31768c3e
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRC' 'sip-files00136.tif'
a9e4207f675653f40e897c7045ba4d52
34ddd1c49aa25f5e1862ed5ee1c21545ca1fe437
describe
'1040' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRD' 'sip-files00136.txt'
d62dc85e1577ce2b1b80878c67a8c973
4a59d24d39d3347165b740397c7bd1b2472afbcd
describe
'9030' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRE' 'sip-files00136thm.jpg'
be577eb77195c93ace5e4de438bbaad8
50227f60cef33d38ba363d39d5d2239cd4764e50
'2011-11-14T21:33:44-05:00'
describe
'446166' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRF' 'sip-files00137.jp2'
a9e9d3e0003a56552f2a29a424138d4c
1205079d113f0b3d9878ea6c4766279e61eca282
describe
'141753' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRG' 'sip-files00137.jpg'
cb9438eed50068d6f18899166e29e540
765a83eabfa248fe0bb72f594a7178be65efaebd
describe
'49574' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRH' 'sip-files00137.pro'
1ab52093819dd06db3ea30d48138e017
e64b3c07ecf6d8076933f8d8787fd6c1864230ad
describe
'38873' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRI' 'sip-files00137.QC.jpg'
b1bbc73602b06dab33bc1105dbdbe693
d971706206b065b0a20c7add12ef9d472c1aa569
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRJ' 'sip-files00137.tif'
7e4f9fcb81c37812ea4518df892924fb
c38ce7bdccf28314313255ef3444ddb845d28044
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRK' 'sip-files00137.txt'
436a4bd8a45c2d5f393ba4db11bb8aae
22429777b3d31e4f4a682daf67f3562ed7b766c4
describe
'8583' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRL' 'sip-files00137thm.jpg'
d7275678c312f91ac3e60cc72ca83a2c
96740fd3410748ece85c7b4507fdfdaa2cf20189
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRM' 'sip-files00138.jp2'
3af2a58f2ec888e3f515aad13f4c6ec4
42f36d9ac467ab2b8f7276ddd78012e2cf11c47b
describe
'141176' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRN' 'sip-files00138.jpg'
34cd96f0e9cee89eef79e861912dd2b7
828c842ec80fd96c4517eaf62907ca75915ceb2d
describe
'51557' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRO' 'sip-files00138.pro'
85e8798aedc1337bf8de4163f139cc6c
232fc0d1d0545d415e99c0541b99c17e170595cb
describe
'39904' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRP' 'sip-files00138.QC.jpg'
23e9b1d7c3dec0d3bc9ead811ff52dc1
8d29003545d2f31a02e732ab4bce0dc8c9a93774
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRQ' 'sip-files00138.tif'
b55911567257726cc3c38b86dfd103f8
8482d734d14e9d9898d9cc463a5252e527f682b3
'2011-11-14T21:40:43-05:00'
describe
'2039' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRR' 'sip-files00138.txt'
710456da37eceb197a25682a7837f520
02a8eb9f0a7d0e7f3de7b7a8d4a0e380eb988a52
describe
'9261' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRS' 'sip-files00138thm.jpg'
b28d63119cf8fc8b95377c9267504f5e
eeb29b30342ec90cad089a638f505ee3abaf7dcd
describe
'446175' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRT' 'sip-files00139.jp2'
c395bca3b9709256a3433c591398fa88
ccfb693f7e30e1ad4d179bdb9a9ae88b58185c97
describe
'117751' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRU' 'sip-files00139.jpg'
32bff895d2c7dac3800e95aafc43e71c
d323fd164b508e9a6ed0286361f5805a5d002ce8
describe
'42313' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRV' 'sip-files00139.pro'
e8dcaabdcb0ecbf9bbcd9f6583691538
67addda0f9fdbbbba34bbcf003d8c0b7e3108ecd
describe
'32921' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRW' 'sip-files00139.QC.jpg'
1d634490cb79cae3b397e229198967ef
7e3296b389b7f9412ceed529b41aa38ed8a977ef
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRX' 'sip-files00139.tif'
30eda8f8a574e9cb109dc81750271a38
3a6caf5c20a7a012e55d7b7e066fbab3b0a52a88
'2011-11-14T21:37:26-05:00'
describe
'1810' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRY' 'sip-files00139.txt'
bd6a3e3f7ff4126482f8da0418b6685d
fa7efa1f8f184b2dc65c1d7a19df848de1c8e78e
'2011-11-14T21:33:18-05:00'
describe
'7908' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIRZ' 'sip-files00139thm.jpg'
7b4c1f06909d4364573fb0498d775cda
8464797fa9698da51cb9027f5105c2f071dc9e90
'2011-11-14T21:34:14-05:00'
describe
'446182' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISA' 'sip-files00140.jp2'
983eeb08171decf5d33a4435bfff94dc
5b61cef4be6743f661de7538232f6f1610046578
describe
'135398' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISB' 'sip-files00140.jpg'
44ab306631bc5741d75289fefb46dd2f
77beb59ff7e25fe9b27f67e86f7ed5e74be82548
describe
'49525' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISC' 'sip-files00140.pro'
0b8e050e7e2155623f10457f62f1597e
9a22f54abd2fdfe84a26eb7dcd56b6d1ee922e11
describe
'39435' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISD' 'sip-files00140.QC.jpg'
c9686f6186911e444529fff2d2cb8e9f
caef4d8c15ecc5a5ee4eb35614730ce37b40bedd
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISE' 'sip-files00140.tif'
1ba88f1948534be81ac68762650c4725
efba76915a6baeeba3eaae22e382a35cf7423816
describe
'1958' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISF' 'sip-files00140.txt'
aa1ab4fc4980f2520ed37c17d5efdc3d
a14361dcca576140652f7ebcff45bbc3be75c2fc
describe
'9142' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISG' 'sip-files00140thm.jpg'
f7d99869181ae322ae3f87c2a14806db
b6b768c2ca40959ed4e7c469fad1a7bb9d7b3360
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISH' 'sip-files00141.jp2'
74d8443212a6079854353f5d6a1149e6
6d4feec6d0d8594d06994ddedf7f3ec4d5c39ece
describe
'131769' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISI' 'sip-files00141.jpg'
874fa75cfb8635f41b7d5e42cd6a3f73
d33aeb9714c14bc638113a821d42e600d053c1b8
'2011-11-14T21:39:39-05:00'
describe
'48551' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISJ' 'sip-files00141.pro'
127a4be31e8059e5b1e08a3fbf682bdf
a53e1d48789a67ed1639c634965585b477f6dc41
describe
'37771' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISK' 'sip-files00141.QC.jpg'
63fdec0a64abd96badedd1f65c9547a2
4cbe7a40bba5dcf3a695e576a5e8a5bef41fba15
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISL' 'sip-files00141.tif'
1925abcfd8bb8d5bba8e33d6286ae9ca
44405133221cc124d5c1df5eade49306c3e205be
describe
'2112' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISM' 'sip-files00141.txt'
8c723cc295ebc8186f86a0e9facf25b3
1645019cb2da54f0bba27986a8ae967bb038e340
describe
'8408' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISN' 'sip-files00141thm.jpg'
d6ee81879a326a319b010675a40f2ddd
8f5e9d82422ea464a2b766b00d41294b59f1663a
describe
'445851' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISO' 'sip-files00142.jp2'
9bbc945558f66127c672ee94b627e214
983426785aef30430ebf1d0ec4540c036b7f2a2c
'2011-11-14T21:39:41-05:00'
describe
'110324' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISP' 'sip-files00142.jpg'
b74abdd514b5402f6f493884509594a1
c18fd3e037e469575268193aefcbe1747f415c79
'2011-11-14T21:34:44-05:00'
describe
'20119' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISQ' 'sip-files00142.pro'
2ed505fdeeea10d04288fd9ace6148ff
3f117297d9ba4ded0f50bbfd492d7504a9b24860
'2011-11-14T21:41:18-05:00'
describe
'30719' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISR' 'sip-files00142.QC.jpg'
5309eb7a120c6b9ce19c61a51431776f
8bd9389a42ff1e21d1486c4d4d4e6b9135e9b4af
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISS' 'sip-files00142.tif'
df761f23f30b295d54c8684ef379078b
1afc66654f8e4b49a0ad457fcf59baedfd736fdd
describe
'825' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIST' 'sip-files00142.txt'
cbd61a27034f3ae0112c85a938e1c714
eb25512aec33b3ef6cca88c4db7f7f757bbcefd2
describe
'7651' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISU' 'sip-files00142thm.jpg'
b44f84260f639c4fed58cf84ec469b6c
deefe5ae1df93b88fedc167c9c7457ea018fed74
describe
'446122' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISV' 'sip-files00143.jp2'
f12cc83273c8f7bdd6ed79bbf13957a1
700ed925c8d1a38c554400817fc877cc978f54b8
describe
'117461' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISW' 'sip-files00143.jpg'
fedd49d1897c13faf6a36017476de2bf
761beb3f5f0a5a1c163191b1a2a421b9b139a1f2
describe
'40978' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISX' 'sip-files00143.pro'
d7b59fc079dabd93f62e9dfea0fa80c5
35420d2c2a21d27d55ecae022dd8ba08ced1e185
describe
'33877' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISY' 'sip-files00143.QC.jpg'
b45f7ebf1fa7f8a5694c652e1c4c4854
dde1356504527faca6f19bc192ec6a0e786cbcac
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAISZ' 'sip-files00143.tif'
0cc7980dd552c5c97ac037f949d9f586
661a3413b57de7513fd8b99fe34c567085660fc2
describe
'1824' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITA' 'sip-files00143.txt'
a178d516febd08898ef7c3190679de34
2fcac768dc02ae40f48a556cd914559b699fbc86
describe
'8159' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITB' 'sip-files00143thm.jpg'
e573505ce37558d940ac7a0126d6e3da
7c54e30684a5b80362d7232a3ce1f5d82b0c768f
describe
'446105' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITC' 'sip-files00144.jp2'
8efc2536436dfa2a4416d30e03566343
06114b06c0731633f2fa19830b883b18e8279010
describe
'137958' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITD' 'sip-files00144.jpg'
ff985988789bb3efc1c9260f28338027
ec2fa9ba94e2d3dba41e9eaeb2941c40c52b348f
describe
'50596' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITE' 'sip-files00144.pro'
4b2b28ddd41a5723f961020fa07c15a5
4e18a52b2b0a86187964bfbb23910dc13c4d284f
'2011-11-14T21:37:56-05:00'
describe
'39449' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITF' 'sip-files00144.QC.jpg'
a80934bd6f42ed3b69cb7c434d58b9ed
034ab142c5e56a38eea63df5747946218145fe07
'2011-11-14T21:41:57-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITG' 'sip-files00144.tif'
48ef976230f84bca4d7cec0393c7c3eb
ba583253c100ea9881718a4b8387b354de66b386
'2011-11-14T21:41:59-05:00'
describe
'2019' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITH' 'sip-files00144.txt'
82eb633b4c0cbaf568dfb8b9b5d8ce6d
416fa83bd63a902942f0e1a0aa2372a46a171658
describe
'8997' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITI' 'sip-files00144thm.jpg'
bce5b20f0cfe15943ebfadb82815235d
e5a6a4031bc6c6c833bea9fb773aca11e85c9179
describe
'445882' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITJ' 'sip-files00145.jp2'
5e0e97e820e7a9939414f193bb828ae7
f5519485f75aa40205a42afeac6d4da61918a907
describe
'131643' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITK' 'sip-files00145.jpg'
5c47fd0e386ecc5349ad2f90826a401a
2ea612f81374a5774465a809f6c0acb1c9de10d1
describe
'45930' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITL' 'sip-files00145.pro'
d22201cbe8116d5cf870dfe1698bf20e
56b88cb82572a218269c5beeb2bdab58645499c4
describe
'38057' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITM' 'sip-files00145.QC.jpg'
9832e8b968f414d261d10eb1d082d0d0
f55d8139c51f613ba281c23f64646dbca439bea1
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITN' 'sip-files00145.tif'
5530c346230b41ff4c3e45d1d2908ffa
cc8e5247c119b2fe10bfbd19a79e0b509e3f66ac
describe
'1954' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITO' 'sip-files00145.txt'
77b90eb9ee540809024fbabea9d96fbf
0cc759ff35b1aa90ffb36dcc72dca502efec1bc1
describe
'9003' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITP' 'sip-files00145thm.jpg'
4a31f2eacada9372992fe1fbb4c0a5b9
8699a6bbb19b288bef0df98aa11f9488a43b03d9
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITQ' 'sip-files00146.jp2'
7e686498f81a6fc73972329b682e20a8
142f36f2446de30567c9ac33f9efa71b4d1f35af
describe
'134716' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITR' 'sip-files00146.jpg'
4c490dd45713fe9831ee321f9313d5c6
704f834dce0070d6c2391cdd2941d6e0463d7e0b
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITS' 'sip-files00146.pro'
ecd5f664199778b3306c04d1f63faee6
b4ef632049a9481fbc4ab47579dcffe74be8183f
describe
'40100' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITT' 'sip-files00146.QC.jpg'
7ed2d58d4b6ea37ee54bf180ab290072
f44a73df536f3fdae99b4b37dd1b5799758e0a65
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITU' 'sip-files00146.tif'
760382702a3e76af2287d062c1880adb
6a718ba7956eea8d6b98889bf46b4ba4e911ade6
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITV' 'sip-files00146.txt'
52edda3456bc700908fe47eab7d304f5
2622abfe4463fbcb60f08a1715b4bbb219d412c1
describe
'8952' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITW' 'sip-files00146thm.jpg'
c3ac25e3ebb86c38e40dd084540bb99e
6b36d998acc86f2212cd5b78f7ff63e23607f6ea
describe
'445865' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITX' 'sip-files00147.jp2'
a7eb63ca88923c1d1b745d5d7d1b28f9
ce6080ecd89974cc82e56412ddf95ef90dc05fee
describe
'144933' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITY' 'sip-files00147.jpg'
8623fbea5b1fc85cdb57f3aa87a2d713
15d679d71461a4730992f65c373fb76c4a0f4ca2
'2011-11-14T21:42:21-05:00'
describe
'51337' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAITZ' 'sip-files00147.pro'
5a08f01cb547a5770665fb4e3ee9abf1
4ba2e53a03a66773096cf1e898c02246199f3196
describe
'41476' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUA' 'sip-files00147.QC.jpg'
f7ac79e443fdeedc1b11ef5b7ed938cd
129e2d6246a3cb7a9192df27ddaa4c74eab41212
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUB' 'sip-files00147.tif'
5d60790071fe49c57c23ad775e1101c1
6c80392e206d88180b02ebce093fad08efa4c464
describe
'2094' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUC' 'sip-files00147.txt'
9cc2b193f855f488d3f67b91b111d32b
4adf9db74f791a15d979c3386e03be39b586fc55
'2011-11-14T21:33:13-05:00'
describe
'9389' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUD' 'sip-files00147thm.jpg'
8e6836b01af914a55ab2b5b8af949759
031cef342ee02f356b9f04ad59810449c11679a6
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUE' 'sip-files00148.jp2'
9f085dce3ea04e751658f66d15b6cb1b
154eb0f3bab5e125c64380f888c7eded84b7eeee
describe
'120607' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUF' 'sip-files00148.jpg'
d214416f7812e0cd1a2546aba8483b14
ecce0e06ff19304d76698fbe0fb438cae9f00a36
'2011-11-14T21:37:17-05:00'
describe
'43784' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUG' 'sip-files00148.pro'
0c43eaaa0e82886ee3a17e80f3b333e9
2ba2e489fee7f6bcc05cd697df59592b7e05c305
describe
'35033' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUH' 'sip-files00148.QC.jpg'
e1ae7a536548a9f86e9256527355d820
64995402cc7561d3a37579b65566e755a2df20cf
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUI' 'sip-files00148.tif'
46dfc7d2508ab2258c28be564c48c99c
127af31f174c25deaa45e54d38fb666f4cb7271e
describe
'1820' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUJ' 'sip-files00148.txt'
06b751c30ea85811ddfe928a5f1b678c
5e87b27104a15bdc83616d41110249b565d3d83a
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUK' 'sip-files00148thm.jpg'
3e0b88607a204fffe04195be7d37632e
271d2d26e4f98ba220cc05ade4cd693f4b7e09f1
'2011-11-14T21:35:25-05:00'
describe
'445842' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUL' 'sip-files00149.jp2'
0cb0517657e2a14e0c7032724ff463ac
1fe0aa6e6dc24eea6caf3bdf85f9b28603bb67d7
describe
'137024' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUM' 'sip-files00149.jpg'
f2842dea30fa2798ff94decb173f0371
d12c38c23b7f9ff9a6afb49f52c3bfa112e77d20
describe
'50958' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUN' 'sip-files00149.pro'
c862cd4f04bca307fa7ab8df8fc01b33
9037a7ddb0ebda7202b8a2bf68c5ccb1be424fb9
'2011-11-14T21:41:43-05:00'
describe
'39329' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUO' 'sip-files00149.QC.jpg'
58b034c56b4c6ee26e9c00cdb447f593
918aabf857c2400f390be34f6e97d6e50011dcc2
'2011-11-14T21:34:30-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUP' 'sip-files00149.tif'
9d52739a641ad4f8ad7a2664ff5c670f
4bc6312c453300604fe33c0b30046d8910290641
describe
'2016' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUQ' 'sip-files00149.txt'
4c18b3346c5262e0d4eab4611d606911
eb729e4a6e2a7eb16a7078faace2772192120259
'2011-11-14T21:36:58-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUR' 'sip-files00149thm.jpg'
5e529e3eda463ff9ae49d5db4ada6c0f
189fc2aca5bb0276f93e52d4cfe0e99cc68030d2
'2011-11-14T21:42:12-05:00'
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUS' 'sip-files00150.jp2'
6dd485178f78e399364e976c93ae81db
70cfd7bc9aa1a5011a57d8e2100cec58f5e1f85d
describe
'124839' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUT' 'sip-files00150.jpg'
5d7eec3c89958179689b89c51ea2033c
ff60fe075bce022f2eec4b94d9d7d7276d8d476c
describe
'45343' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUU' 'sip-files00150.pro'
716a6bf3b2de43235eb4a3d4ee7a1a24
a8edc9095ce7e3da1bc606338dae16561bf20ce5
describe
'35690' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUV' 'sip-files00150.QC.jpg'
cacd8251d20bd21fc803e3d3362e3e61
091113304f39216156401a8168d8793ab4573468
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUW' 'sip-files00150.tif'
babc0e6d8686fd2ac0015c1f4eb00439
131936f7f1be18c847af3022035f5368e5eb3682
describe
'1870' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUX' 'sip-files00150.txt'
e2dda72bd7fd2a3fc2e51f8cc382d64c
65e21c581c0dd67bc4e5bcb73c4f24e97095f5f6
describe
'8379' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUY' 'sip-files00150thm.jpg'
e7d556eb80b2fe71d8cc379be90c92b9
fd68724a4ce45135af2ce78754fd720717d25089
describe
'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIUZ' 'sip-files00151.jp2'
649fa83e3c833c7efd7e64e5c3357c6c
b0af3f10f295a5b00379cd8527b04ae0a15b7956
describe
'142323' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIVA' 'sip-files00151.jpg'
2ee1231c13c634cf11be80a2d82d0c71
e84b4e712a6dcf0198870e4943dc59d412ae1231
describe
'2651' 'info:fdaE20080808_AAAAFTfileF20080810_AAAIVB' 'sip-files00151.p