When I Had Pressed Near Enough
To Hear The Speaker, I Found He Was Just Finishing A Wonderful
Story, In Which He Himself Might Or Might Not Have Faith, But Which
Plainly Commanded The Credit Of His Auditors.
Having closed his
narrative, the fellow began to sell it in printed form - little
pamphlets with a rude illustration on the cover.
I bought the thing
for a soldo, and read it as I walked away.
A few days ago - thus, after a pious exordium, the relation began
- in that part of Italy called Marca, there came into a railway
station a Capuchin friar of grave, thoughtful, melancholy aspect,
who besought the station-master to allow him to go without ticket by
the train just starting, as he greatly desired to reach the
Sanctuary of Loreto that day, and had no money to pay his fare The
official gave a contemptuous refusal, and paid no heed to the
entreaties of the friar, who urged all manner of religious motives
for the granting of his request. The two engines on the train (which
was a very long one) seemed about to steam away - but, behold, con
grande stupore di tutti, the waggons moved not at all! Presently a
third engine was put on, but still all efforts to start the train
proved useless. Alone of the people who viewed this inexplicable
event, the friar showed no astonishment; he remarked calmly, that so
long as he was refused permission to travel by it, the train would
not stir.
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