The Argosy — page 293: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

pret" Marionettes, The mother, who looks very young, with dark eyes and fair hair; in her arms is a baby, who sits up and crows, and gazes in rapture at the lamp before it. Mimi is intent on the macaroni, and until the delightful moment comes for enjoying it, is munching away at a hard crust. Luigi, the father, has taken off his hat, and looks brighter now than when we first saw him on the bridge. It is a fine, intellectua}- looking head, but there are lines of care traced on the forehead, and there is a certain weakness about it, which speaks of a nature not exactly suited to push to the front, in the scramble which we call life. But this evening all anxiety is put away, as money enough has been taken to provide this little family with the necessaries of life for at least three or four days to come, and there is hope also for the future. Christmas will soon be here, and holiday-making people cannot find a better way of amusing themselves for a few pence than in going to see the famous Marionettes. ‘The town is full of strangers, some of whom may condescend also to enter this humble little booth, and admire the Queen of Sheba, and the graceful attitudes of Made- moiselle Rosalie, the dancer, who flies round on one toe, and, finally, springs almost to the top of the stage, to sink afterwards on one knee, and hold out her hands to the audience for applause. Ii, Hicu among the Apennines there is a little village, hidden away in the mountains. It consists of a few houses, some of them very old and small, yet with a certain air of picturesqueness about them, surrounded as they are by the giant mountains, and over- shadowed by immense chestnut trees. Above the village stands the little church. Here it was that, twenty-four years ago, a little dark-eyed, ragged boy, named Luigi Pasterini used to run about, and play the livelong day. He belonged to a very old woman, who lived in one of the poorest and smallest of the houses, and managed to eke out a scanty living for herself and her grandchild. And because she was known to be so old, and so very, very poor, Luigi became, in a way, the child of the whole “paese.” Often a piece of cake, oz some nuts or figs were thrust into his little brown hands, in those days, by the kind mothers who had children of their own. So Luigi grew and throve, nourished by the sun and the sweet air of the mountains, and by the great love the old “‘nonna” gave him without stint, because she had so little else to give him. Time went on, and he went to the little school, and learnt all that the old man who kept it could teach him. And then just as he began to wish to leave his home high up among the hills and learn a little what life in the plains was like, the old “nonna” died. It was his COPMICMDOOKS EO) m