By the Ionian Sea: Notes of a Ramble in Southern Italy

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. At length un ricco signore found a way out of

the difficulty by purchasing the friar a third-class ticket; with a

grave reproof to the station-master, the friar took his seat, and the

train went its way.

But the matter, of course, did not end here. Indignant and amazed, and

wishing to be revenged upon that frataccio, the station-master

telegraphed to Loreto, that in a certain carriage of a certain train

was travelling a friar, whom it behoved the authorities to arrest for

having hindered the departure of the said train for fifteen minutes,

and also for the offense of mendicancy within a railway station.

Accordingly, the Loreto police sought the offender, but, in the

compartment where he had travelled, found no person; there, however,

lay a letter couched in these terms: “He who was in this waggon under

the guise of a humble friar, has now ascended into the arms of his

Santissima Madre Maria. He wished to make known to the world how easy

it is for him to crush the pride of unbelievers, or to reward those who

respect religion.”

Nothing more was discoverable; wherefore the learned of the Church—_i

dotti della chiesa_—came to the conclusion that under the guise of a

friar there had actually appeared “N. S. G. C.” The Supreme Pontiff

and his prelates had not yet delivered a judgment in the matter, but

there could be no sort of doubt that they would pronounce the

authenticity of the miracle. With a general assurance that the good

Christian will be saved and the unrepentant will be damned, this

remarkable little pamphlet came to an end. Much verbiage I have

omitted, but the translation, as far as it goes, is literal. Doubtless

many a humble Tarentine spelt it through that evening, with boundless

wonder, and thought such an intervention of Providence worthy of being

talked about, until the next stabbing case in his street provided a

more interesting topic.

Possibly some malevolent rationalist might note that the name of the

railway station where this miracle befell was nowhere mentioned. Was it

not open to him to go and make inquiries at Loreto?

CHAPTER VI

THE TABLE OF THE PALADINS

For two or three days a roaring north wind whitened the sea with foam;

it kept the sky clear, and from morning to night there was magnificent

sunshine, but, none the less, one suffered a good deal from cold. The

streets were barer than ever; only in the old town, where high, close

walls afforded a good deal of shelter, was there a semblance of active

life. But even here most of the shops seemed to have little, if any,

business; frequently I saw the tradesman asleep in a chair, at any hour

of daylight. Indeed, it must be very difficult to make the day pass at

Taranto. I noticed that, as one goes southward in Italy, the later do

ordinary people dine; appetite comes slowly in this climate. Between

colazione at midday and pranzo at eight, or even half-past, what an