And the policeman and the other people were crying more loudly than ever: "Who was it? Who did it? One of his glasses has been driven into his eye! He has been blinded! The ruffians!"

I thought that Garoffi would fall to the earth. "Come," said Garrone, resolutely, "I will defend you;" and grasping him by the arm, he thrust him forward, supporting him as though he had been a sick man. The people saw, and instantly understood, and several persons ran up with their fists raised; but Garrone thrust himself between, crying:

"Do ten men of you set on one boy?"

Then they ceased and a policeman seized Garoffi by the hand and led him, pushing aside the crowd as he went, to a pastrycook's shop, where the wounded man had been carried. On catching sight of him, I suddenly recognized him as the old employe who lives on the fourth floor of our house with his grandnephew. He was stretched out on a chair, with a handkerchief over his eyes.

"I did not do it intentionally!" sobbed Garoffi, half dead with terror; "I did not do it intentionally!"

Two or three persons thrust him violently into the shop, crying: "Your face to the earth! Beg his pardon!" and they threw him to the ground. But all at once two vigorous arms set him on his feet again, and a resolute voice said:

"No, gentlemen!" It was our head-master, who had seen it all. "Since he has had the courage to present himself," he added, "no one has the right to humiliate him." All stood silent. "Ask his forgiveness," said the head-master to Garoffi. Garoffi, bursting into tears, embraced the old man's knees, and the latter, having felt for the boy's head with his hand, caressed his hair. Then all said:

"Go away, boy! Go. Return home.”

And my father drew me out of the crowd, and said to me as we passed along the street, "Enrico, would you have had the courage, under similar circumstances, to do your duty -to go and confess your fault?"

I told him that I should.

And he said,

"Give me your word, as a lad of heart and honor, that you would do it."

"I give thee my word, father mine!"

"Tell you a story," my beautiful dear, "Of nixies, and pixies, and fairies with wings?"

Well, curl up close in the corner here,

And I'll show you more astonishing things!

I give you this small white packet to hold. "It rustles," you say. Both the ends are sealed.

Patience a moment, and you shall be told

Of the 'hundreds of captives that lie con

cealed

In this little paper. "What, living things?

Yes, full of life. "Won't I take one out?" Yes, only be careful - they have no wings, But your lightest breathing will blow them

out.

There, one in your warm pink palm I lay; You hardly can see it! "Does anything

hide

In that wee atom of dust?" you say.
Yes, wonderful glory is folded inside!

Robes, my dear, that are fit for kings;
Scarlet splendor that dazzles the eyes;
Buds, flowers, leaves, stalks-so many things!
You look in my face with doubting surprise,

And ask, "Is it really, truly true?"

No fairy story at all this time!

Don't you remember the poppy that grew
At the foot of the trellis where sweet peas
climbed,

Last summer, close to the doorstep, where
You and I loved to sit in the sun,

And see the butterflies float in the air

When the long bright day was almost done?

Don't you remember what
joy we had

Watching that poppy
grow high and
higher,

In its lovely gray-green
garments clad,

Till the buds one even-
ing showed streaks
of fire?

And next day-oh! it

was all ablaze;

Three or four flowers at once outburst In the early sun's low, golden raysAnd you were down at the doorstep first

And what magnificence met our sight! What a heavenly time we had, we two, Just adoring it, lost in delight!

For the gray-green leaves were spangled with dew,

And the flowers, like banners of silken flame Unfurled, stood each on its slender stem,