Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 List of Illustrations
 A chunk of gold
 Enter Mr. Hook-nose
 An odd nursery
 What the burgomaster found out
 In state
 A rough barber
 P. P. C.
 The artificial cripple
 A living parcel
 Old and new acquaintances
 The wrong Columbia
 Giulia and her troupe
 Away! Away!
 In the hands of the police
 Echoes from the north
 "Old doc."
 "I am your uncle"
 Tramps and vagabonds
 "Save him!"
 A letter with a "postfiscum"
 Two surprises
 Under the maple
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Group Title: Children's library
Title: Pax and Carlino
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00082626/00001
 Material Information
Title: Pax and Carlino a story
Series Title: Children's library
Physical Description: 196 p., 3 leaves of plates : ill. ; 18 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Beckman, Ernst, 1850-1924
Upton, Florence K ( Florence Kate ), 1873-1922 ( Illustrator )
T. Fisher Unwin (Firm) ( Publisher )
Publisher: T. Fisher Unwin
Place of Publication: London
Publication Date: 1894
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Adventure and adventurers -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Uncles -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Nurseries -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Gold -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Barbers -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Street life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
People with disabilities -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1894
Genre: novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Statement of Responsibility: by Ernst Beckman ; illustrated by Florence K. Upton.
General Note: Title page printed in red and black.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00082626
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002222037
notis - ALG2270
oclc - 222019875

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter 1
        Front Matter 2
    Half Title
        Half Title
        Advertising 1
        Advertising 2
    Title Page
        Title Page 1
        Title Page 2
    Table of Contents
        Page 1
        Page 2
    List of Illustrations
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
    A chunk of gold
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
    Enter Mr. Hook-nose
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
    An odd nursery
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
    What the burgomaster found out
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 28a
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
    In state
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
    A rough barber
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
    P. P. C.
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
    The artificial cripple
        Page 56
        Page 56a
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
    A living parcel
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
    Old and new acquaintances
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 86a
        Page 87
        Page 88
    The wrong Columbia
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
    Giulia and her troupe
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
    Away! Away!
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 114a
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
    In the hands of the police
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
    Echoes from the north
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
    "Old doc."
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
    "I am your uncle"
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
    Tramps and vagabonds
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 170a
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
    "Save him!"
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
    A letter with a "postfiscum"
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
    Two surprises
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
    Under the maple
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
    Back Matter
        Back Matter
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

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(Others in the Press.)


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"IriM BY H K G BU P e



a >totr







I. A CHUNK OF GOLD ...................... 7
II. ENTER MR. HOOK-NOSE ......... ........ 13
III. AN ODD NURSERY ........ ............ 20
V. IN STATE. ................. ............... 36
VI. A ROUGH BARBER................ ....... 41
VII. PAX........................ ............ 45
VIII. P. P. C................................... 51
IX. THE ARTIFICIAL CRIPPLE ................. 56
X. A LIVING PARCEL........................ 63
XI. W HITHER ? ..... ............. ........... 74
XIII. THE WRONG COLUMBIA ................... 89
XIV. JEWELS .................................. 95
XV. GIULIA AND HER TROUPE ............... I04
XVI. AWAY! AWAY! .......................... 112
XVIII. ECHOES FROM THE NORTH ............... 134
XIX. "OLD Doc." ............................ 145
XX. "I AM YOUR UNCLE." .................... 153
XXI. TRAMPS AND VAGABONDS ................. 164
XXII. SAVE HIM" ............................. 175
XXIV. Two SURPRISES .......................... 188
XXV. UNDER THE MAPLE ...................... 194




SLEEP." .................... ................. 29


"CARLINO WITH PAX ON HIS LAP." .................. 86

"LIFTING HER SKIRT." ......................... 114



THAT is the question which will be almost
sure to come to the lips of children who read
about Carlino's strange adventures.
To this I may answer both yes and no.
I cannot say that everything has happened
just as I have related it.
On the other hand, facts are often stranger
than fiction, and in this case the very incidents
which seem the most unlikely are really true.
I may add that the story originated in the
experiences of a boy to whom I am, at the
present moment, acting as guardian.
To him, CARLINO S., and to my own
seven-year-old FREDDY, this little book is
lovingly dedicated.




THE martial-looking gendarme that was
leisurely pacing up and down the platform of
the railway-station of the little Italian town
stopped all of a sudden. For the second time
within a few minutes he thought he heard a
small voice calling out in a strange language.
The gendarme was a traveled man. He
wore on his breast a bright medal, as a sign
that he was one of the famous thousand that
went with Garibaldi down to Sicily to fight for
the freedom of Italy. In his journeying he
had heard many dialects, but never any like
this. It sounded like Italian, but he was un-
able to understand a single word. Neither
was it English-at least, he had never heard


any Ingless speak that way. What could
it be?
"Madonna mia, what a wonderful lan-
guage!" he muttered to himself.
An almost uncanny feeling crept over him
when he heard that strange voice sound out
on the air in the darkness. It was a plaintive,
childlike voice, that seemed to proceed from
the baggage-room, which was locked up for
the night.
No mistake this time. There was some-
thing mysterious in there among the luggage.
As it was the particular business of the
stately gendarme to look out for the safety of
all those bags and boxes, piled up like mount-
ains along the walls of the room, he immedi-
ately went to the station-master's window and
I say, signore, there's a queer sound in the
baggage-room. It is like a child's voice-
unless it be a spirit's. Please come out."
He had scarcely finished before the dark-
eyed young station-master made his appear-
ance, with a lantern in his hand.
Come on, Pietro," he said, yawning. "I
suppose it is my duty to go with you, although


I am sure there isn't anything there. I locked
the room myself an hour ago. It is all your
fancy," he added, smiling. Such a dark
night, you know."
He turned the key in the lock, unfastened
the big iron bar, and opened the door. No
sound was heard. The lantern shed its yellow
light over rows upon rows of boxes, all sleep-
ing soundly in the most correct and respect-
able manner.
"Niente, niente, nothing at all," said the
station-master. Halloa, though, what is
In the narrow space between two American
trunks, that were looming up like two grain
elevators, the light fell upon something that
looked like a big round chunk of solid gold,
as it reflected the rays from the lantern. The
gendarme leaned forward to touch it. It was
not hard and cold like gold, but warm, and
soft like silk.
"Ecco, signore," exclaimed Pietro, "here
is where the music came from. What a jolly
youngster! A whole bush of golden curls!
Sleeping now, you see. Tired out, poor


And he tenderly lifted a little child from
the floor.
"A girl?" asked the station-master.
"Well, upon my honor, I don't know,"
answered Pietro. "Turn the light on it."
The strong light fell on a pale, white face.
Two deep-blue eyes opened slowly, and gave
an astonished look at the big mustache that
leaned over them. Just one jerk-and be-
tween the surprised station-master and the
gendarme there stood, erect as a soldier, a
little boy with long golden curls falling down
over his shoulders. He looked from one of
the dark-faced Italians to the other. When
he noticed the three-cornered hat and the
sword of the gendarme, it suddenly seemed to
strike him that he had been lacking in polite-
ness. He drew himself up still straighter than
before, and, soldier fashion, put two fingers of
the right hand up to his blue cap, which he
had hurriedly put on, picking it up from the
The station-master and the gendarme burst
out laughing. The boy looked reproachfully
at them. He didn't see anything ridiculous
in the situation at all. However, he fought


manfully to keep back the tears that rose in
the anxious blue eyes, and in his most polite
manner addressed the gendarme.
The two men looked at each other. It was
a very charming, melodious sound that issued
forth between the child's lips. To understand
it, however, was out of the question. It might
just as well have been the sweet song of a
strange bird.
At last the Italians could not control them-
selves any longer. Once more their merry
laughter rung out over the drowsy boxes in
the baggage-room. They would not have
hurt the child's feelings if they could have
helped it, but the temptation was irresistible.
Their faces became quite sober when they saw
clear tears trickle down the pale cheeks of the
little stranger. Suddenly he hid his face in
his hands, his whole frame shaking with sup-
pressed sobbing.
A few minutes later he lay sound asleep on
the station-master's couch, covered by his
great brass-buttoned overcoat. Beside him
stood an empty milk-pitcher and a half-emp-
tied little basket of luscious red grapes.
The station-master sat a good while smok-


ing his cigar and musing as to what nation the
little fellow could belong. He had in vain
tried French on him, and also a few words of
English and German, which he happened to
Outside were heard the measured footsteps
of the gendarme, who was slowly pacing up
and down in the dark.



NEXT morning the little stranger had
scarcely rubbed the sleep out of his eyes when
he found himself lifted on the strong arms of
the gendarme up to the box of a big lumber-
ing stage-coach.
The driver placed the tiny passenger by his
side on the box, where he-driver and postil-
ion in one person-was enthroned, as proud
as a king, although he only wore a broad-
brimmed hat of black leather, instead of a
golden crown. The gendarme stepped up,
tucked the apron around his small friend, and
gave him a good kiss from under the black
Then he said something to the driver, who
seemed very much amused. Finally he bade
good-by, addressing the boy in Italian, of
course: "Addio, addio, little gold-head."


All that the boy understood was the kiss
and the word addioo." This was enough to
make him feel very sad. There was the sta-
tion-master also, saluting him in a military
way and smiling good-naturedly.
The driver slung the long lash of his whip
through the air with a crack loud as the report
of a pistol. The five gray horses were startled
out of their musings. They whisked their
tails, snorted, gave a strong pull, and the
heavy coach began to move.
"Addio, addio!" called out the boy. His
quick ear had caught the Italian pronunciation
of this word. He kissed his hand to the two
men on the steps of the station.
The driver, looking quite astonished, turned
his face toward his curious companion on the
lofty box. Did the boy speak Italian after
all? That addioo" was correct, anyhow.
He decided to bring about an Italian con-
versation with the brave little fellow, who
looked so admiringly at his horses. Once
started, the jolly driver talked one perpetual
stream, while the coach was winding slowly
around the steep hill, on the top of which the
little town was perched like an immense eagle's


nest. Naturally, he only got for an answer
an acknowledging smile from the boyish lips
or a gleam of sunshine in the serious blue
Once only the boy ventured to open his
mouth. It seemed to have dawned upon the
driver that the foreign-looking passenger, after
all, did not understand Italian. One thing,
however, he must understand; and, pointing
in turn to each of the horses, the driver
repeated, very slowly, their names. Sure
enough, the boy showed that he caught the
point, for his face lighted up with pleasure.
He evidently did not think the introduction
complete, though, until the horses were also
told his name. Pointing to himself with his
slender forefinger, he slowly repeated several
times, Carl Ros."
The driver hurriedly turned around to the
passengers inside the coach.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he exclaimed,
pointing the handle of his whip to the yellow
curls by his side, "the name of gold-head is
Carlorosso. Jolly name, jolly name!"
And he laughed and swung his whip, and
all the passengers-three Italians and a very


large English family-laughed also, and ex-
claimed: Carlorosso! What a funny name!"
Master Carl had not time to find out that
he was the cause of all this merriment, for the
coach was now rolling into the main street of
the town. The wheels rumbled, sparks of fire
flew from the stones under the horses' hoofs,
the driver cracked his whip furiously, so that
echoes rebounded from one side of the street
to the other, and dogs, chickens, and olive-
skinned urchins were dispersed to all the four
points of the compass. Then came a sudden
stop at the Albergo del Sole," where the big
entrance was prettily adorned with waiters in
white neckties and well guarded by a gilded
portiere, all expecting the arrival of the In-
Here the passengers alighted, and the por-
ters carried their luggage inside the house.
Both the passengers and the people of the
hotel seemed to have much to say to the
driver. He nodded in a very important man-
ner toward the boy, and several times, in
answer to their questions, straightened himself
up, put two fingers, like a soldier, up to the
brim of his hat, laughed, and repeated the


word "Carlorosso, Carlorosso." Then they
all laughed.
During all this time the innocent subject of
this jollity had no idea whatever that he was
giving the world so much pleasure. He now
and then looked anxiously up into the face of
the swarthy driver, turned to repeat, in his
pretty way, "Addio, addio," to the passen-
gers, waving his hand to them when they dis-
appeared into the hotel. At last, with much
hesitation, he proceeded to unfasten the apron,
his questioning blue eyes all the time trying
to attract the attention of the driver.
"No, no, signorino, you keep your seat,"
this dignitary exclaimed, rather gruffly, when
he observed the boy's undertaking. The whip
cracked, the horses started, the coach rolled
along the street, passed the solemn cathedral,
and stopped at the door of an old palace, that
looked very much like a prison, although it
had on one side a garden full of late blooming
roses, shaded by live-oaks and olive-trees.
The poor boy must have thought that this
house really was a prison, he looked so scared
and pale.
The driver jumped down, and, holding the


reins with one hand, pulled a knob of a bell
with the other. The boy heard the sound fill
the passage and then die away before the
heavy door was opened, just enough to show
a hooked nose, a couple of jet-black eyes, part
of a black livery, and a low buckled shoe stuck
forward as in a position of defense.
The driver and footman in black talked very
excitedly for some minutes. The boy heard
the word "monsignore" repeated again and
again. He somehow got the idea that this
person, "Mr. Monsignore,'' was a very severe
man, who would be much displeased at his
arrival. Finally the footman slammed the
door and left the driver standing on the side-
In a few moments, however, Mr. Hook-nose
again appeared. This time he opened the
door fully, and, without a word, solemnly
nodded toward the little fellow on the box.
The driver lifted him down and placed him
inside the door, which was banged behind him
by the footman, before he even had time to
say addioo to his friend of the coachman's
The grand footman gave the boy a sign to


follow, and passed before him through a long
vestibule up a magnificent flight of stairs,
where old marble statues peeped out myste-
riously from dark niches in the wall. At the
top of the stairs they entered a lofty gallery
covered from floor to ceiling with pictures in
gilded frames. At the farthest end of this
hall the footman drew aside a heavy red cur-
tain, and pushed the boy into the presence of
monsignore the bishop.



THE prelate was sitting at a writing-desk
placed under a large crucifix carved in dark
wood. His head, where, in spite of the own-
er's fifty-seven years, no trace of gray was
mixed with the black, leaned upon his hand.
He seemed to be deep in thought.
The boy had to wait some minutes before
the bishop looked in his direction. Meanwhile
he had time to come to the conclusion that, in
spite of the violet scarf around his waist, in
spite of the golden cross which glittered where
the long cassock was left unbuttoned, monsig-
nore was not half as imposing a person as his
Now the bishop looked up. He put on his
eyeglasses and surveyed the stranger. His
guest was in doubt whether to stop at the
door or to advance. At last he made up his


mind. He went straight to the prelate, put
out his thin hand, and made a very polite
He did not attempt to say anything, as he
had found that he was never understood. He
only looked entreatingly up into the bishop's
Now, monsignore was quite as noted for his
kind heart as he was for his big body, that
towered a full head above the clergy of his
diocese. He looked very much amused, and
immediately buried that little outstretched
hand in one of his own.
"Well, Carlorosso?" he said.
The boy shook his head in a sad way, in
order to express that he did not understand
Italian. Then the happy thought struck him.
This much-repeated word "Carlorosso" was
perhaps meant for his own name.
Pointing, therefore, at himself, he ventured
to say, Carl Ros."
"Si, si, just so," said the bishop in his turn,
playfully poking him with his big forefinger:
" Carlorosso, Carlorosso."
He was just going to try to find out where
the boy hailed from by repeating the names


of all the different countries of Europe, when
he suddenly stopped himself.
"Why, how pale you look," he exclaimed.
He had scarcely uttered these words before
the little stranger began to totter, and, mut-
tering a few words in his own language, sank
on the floor before the bishop had time to get
hold of him.
Looking frightfully scared, the bishop im-
petuously pulled the bell. This called the
solemn footman, who could not keep back a
smile when he saw his huge master with a
strange boy in his arms, holding him in that
awkward way in which inexperienced men
generally take hold of a baby.
Quick, fetch Assunta!" the bishop com-
It seemed an age to the good bishop before
Assunta arrived. She was an old woman who
lived in the porter's lodge at the back entrance
on the other side of the garden. When she
at last bustled in, she stopped, dumfoundered,
with her hands joined before her, when she
saw monsignore himself almost as pale as the
pale boy he was carrying to and fro.
"Assunta, the boy is dying in my arms,"


the bishop said, the perspiration breaking out
on his forehead.
No, no, your Highness," Assunta replied.
"Now, quick, put him down here flat on the
rug. Your Highness don't know about chil-
dren. I have ten, and many a one of them
has been lying as pale as that little angel-
angelo d' Iddio."
The boy was laid down on the rug. As-
sunta threw some cold water on to his face,
and bathed his temples with vinaigre, which
Mr. Hook-nose went to fetch with an injured
air, to show that he thought it quite below his
dignity to run errands for a beggar-boy, at
Assunta's beck and call.
Monsignore had divested himself of his long
cassock, and tried to make himself generally
useful. Most of the time he seemed to be
rather in the way. He was quite grateful
when Assunta asked him to put a cushion on
the sofa.
He is coming to now, poor little soul," she
said. "Pray, your Highness, do you know
his name?"
It is a queer name: Carlorosso. Suppose
we call him Carlino," said the bishop, who


was taking off the silver-embroidered cover
from the table in the middle of the room, to
throw it over the boy as a blanket.
Carlino opened his eyes just when it was
put over him. He gave the bishop one grate-
ful look, turned over on his side, and went to
The physician who had been sent for looked
also somewhat taken aback when he saw his
Highness in his shirt-sleeves and old Assunta
in her white headgear, both doing duty as
nurses. -He ordered the boy to be put to
bed-but where? There was, of course, no
nursery in the episcopal palace.
"Put him in the room outside my bed-
room," commanded the bishop, who now
regained his composure.
Mr. Hook-nose in vain tried a few remon-
strances. The boy was undressed and put to
bed under the bishop's own supervision.
How thin he is," said the bishop, address-
ing the physician.
Quite emaciated. He must have been
starved. Your Highness will have to fatten
your chick," said the doctor, with a quizzical
look at the monsignore.


"Why, he will have to have some new
clothes, too," said the bishop. "This curly
head looks quite like some unnatural growth
sticking out of that dirty cotton jacket. An-
tonio," he said, turning to Mr. Hook-nose,
" you take his jacket and trousers and go down
to the Pacci's in the arcade and tell them to
send up a warmer suit of the same size."
Hook-nose looked at his master as though
he doubted whether he were quite right in his
mind. He thought best, however, to obey.
The bishop and the doctor left the room,
where Assunta stayed to watch. She crossed
herself and took out her rosary. Before she
began to say her prayers, she looked at the
sleeping boy, shook her head, and repeated:
" Poor little angel-angelo d'lddio."



THE bishop retired to his room and wrote a
note to the burgomaster, "il sindaco," asking
him to find out all he could about the quaint
living package which the station-master had
been pleased to send him, without even asking
his permission."
Two days later the fat, jocose burgomaster
called in person to report the results of his in-
"Well, your Highness," he said, rubbing
his hands and making a very low bow, you
have to pay the penalty for being too good.
You have spoiled us, and now you see the
result. You have fallen a prey to that out-
landish little fellow, whose yellow curls seem
to have enthralled both the civil and ecclesias-
tical authorities in the persons of Pietro the


gendarme, and of your most reverend High-
ness yourself."
All right, all right, my dear burgomaster,"
interrupted the bishop; but what have you
found out about that outlandish little fellow,
as you call him? "
"Well, monsignore, upon my word it looks
like the beginning of a most extraordinary
story. The guard thought he remembered
that your gold-head took the train at the first
little station this side of Florence. I immedi-
ately telegraphed to the chief of police in that
city. This morning the postman brought this
letter. Perhaps your Highness will allow me
to read it to you? "
By all means," said the bishop.
The burgomaster with an air of great im-
portance took the letter out of the envelope,
adorned with the armorial bearings of the city
of Florence. He cleared his throat, as a dig-
nified burgomaster ought to do, and read:

"FIRENZE, October 3d.
"MY DEAR SINDACO: The very same hour
that I received your Honor's most esteemed
telegram, I gave strict orders to the force to do


everything in their power to throw some light
upon- the parentage, nationality, etc., of the
protege of yourself and his Highness, the most
distinguished Lord Bishop of your diocese.
Happily, the subject of these researches turned
out to be well known by the officers in the
north district, on account of his long golden
curls, which have attracted a good deal of at-
tention. It seems that ten days ago a dark,
middle-aged lady rented a small uninhabited
villa-Villa Saldoni-just outside the city
limits. She was dressed in English fashion,
but looked like an Italian. She also spoke
our language, although with a strange accent,
as if she might have been living many years
in foreign parts, possibly in England or in
America. Having paid the rent for a fort-
night in advance, she returned to the railway
station, where it appears that she had left the
boy alone on the platform with her luggage.
The boy was spoken to by the guard at the
station, but evidently did not understand Ital-
ian. The woman then drove over to the villa
in cab 163, the boy, as the driver noticed,
shivering in his thin summer clothes (a couple
of days in that week, as your Honor will re-



'~841~~ e~T;I:j';.T

hl i

-- ~f~


ts .i


member, being real autumn days, and unprec-
edentedly cold).
"The day after her arrival the neighbors
found that she left the boy the whole day all
by himself locked up in the house. This was
repeated several days in succession. When
the child was heard crying as if in distress, an
old lawyer, Signor Sonzogno, who lives oppo-
site the villa, went and looked in through the
windows. He beheld a pitiful sight: in the
damp, cold kitchen the little boy and a small
dachshund were fastened to the stove with the
same chain. The boy seemed to have cried
himself to sleep on the bare stone floor. By
him there were a jug of water and a crust of
brown bread. While the lawyer was still look-
ing through the window, the woman happened
to come home. She went directly to him,
sharply asking, 'What are you doing in this
place, sir?' 'Well, madam,' he retorted, 'I
will tell you that when you tell me what you
are doing with that poor boy chained up like
a wild animal in a menagerie.' 'What am I
doing ?' she answered, giving the man a spite-
ful look. 'I want to give that boy a good
education. Had he stayed with his parents,


they would have made him one of those effem-
inate milksops. I will give him a good Spar-
tan education. I will keep him with me, and
when he grows up he will be my courier de
voyage.' Signor S., exasperated at this effront-
ery, in leaving the premises said to the
woman, 'It is a stolen child. I know it is.
What nonsense about your Spartan education!
I will see about this. I shall go this very
minute to notify the police.' The woman
laughed scornfully.
"Of course, in telling her beforehand that
he was going to inform the authorities, Signor
S., although generally a very cautious man,
no doubt as you, my honored colleague, will
perceive, committed an imprudence. When
one of my constables arrived there, the woman,
probably frightened by this threat, had already
left our city. We have, of course, not had
any special reason further to look into this
matter until we received your favor of the Ist
instant. No doubt my supposition is right
that she thought it safest to get rid of the
boy, and managed to do so by smuggling him
into the left-luggage office at your station.
"I remain, yours, etc.,


The reading finished, the burgomaster
handed the letter to the bishop.
"Your Highness may keep it. It contains
most valuable information in a most interest-
ing case."
It would be more valuable if it gave you
any idea where to catch that woman," said the
bishop, rather curtly.
Well, what would you do with that woman
even if you could catch her? asked the bur-
gomaster, nettled. Would you give the boy
a blessing and send him back to that lady's
loving, motherly bosom and Spartan educa-
tion? No doubt she is one of those tender
souls that travel around Europe to get hold of
little ones suitable for the noble calling of cir-
cus-riding or organ-grinding."
My dear sindaco," said the bishop, good-
humoredly, "pray don't lose your temper.
You have done everything you could. You
are also right about the woman. I only wish
the letter had given some clue as to the nation-
ality of the boy."
Monsignore," said the burgomaster, his
round face flushed with anticipation of certain
success, I am sure I can find that out for you
in less than two minutes, if I am only brought


face to face with your little canary bird. I
have not been a lawyer for twenty years for
An almost imperceptible smile lingered
around the firm mouth of the bishop, when he
touched a bell and told Antonio to ask As-
sunta whether she thought Carlino strong
enough to come for a few minutes into the
Antonio sniffed with his hooked nose as
soon as the shut door hid this important
member from his master's eye. He muttered
something about "absurd fussing," but re-
turned, nevertheless, presently with the boy,
whose deathly pale cheeks were tinged with
a delicate flush of rose color at the sight of the
strange gentleman.
Carlino made his most polite bow, and prof-
fered his hand, first to the bishop and then to
his guest.
"Well, Carlino," began the latter, placing
the boy between his knees, "just tell me one
thing, just one thing. What country do you
come from? "
The jolly sindaco must have grown quite
absent-minded by looking into the sorrowful,


dreamy blue eyes of that boy, for he was say-
ing this in Italian. The boy looked helplessly
from the burgomaster to the bishop. To the
bishop's lips came back the same almost im-
perceptible smile as before.
"Per Bacco, I forgot!" exclaimed the sin-
daco, disconcerted. "I remember now I was
told that he don't understand Italian."
He repeated the question, this time in very
poor English. The same result.
Then he tried German of the same quality.
" He must be German," he said, turning to the
bishop. All in vain.
The burgomaster looked puzzled. He raised
his voice, he asked over and over again, at
last roaring so that his face became red all
"Why, the boy is deaf, monsignore," he
exclaimed, looking in despair to the bishop.
To his utter amazement he now observed that
this high dignitary of the church had fallen
into a fit of laughter so violent that he could
scarcely keep his seat.
Carlino had felt his heart sink in his bosom
during the noisy questioning of the strange
gentleman. Looking up, he saw the bishop's


hilarity. He smiled through his tears, and the
next second he joined in with a silvery peal of
This merriment proved so contagious that
in a moment the burgomaster, altogether for-
getting his dignity, was fairly roaring. His
rotund body shook, he clapped his thighs with
his hands, in the midst of these paroxysms
calling out to the bishop:
This is the-univer- sal-language." It is
doubtful whether the bishop's library ever
witnessed such a jolly scene. Quiet finally
restored, the burgomaster said: "Now I will
try another method."
Striving to make his whole person look like
a most expressive sign of interrogation, he
slowly repeated to Carlino in Italian, English,
French, and German the names of the different
countries of Europe, from Italy up to the far
"Well, you have hit upon my plan. I was
just going to try that when the boy fainted,"
said the bishop.
The sindaco was too eager to be interrupted.
He went on with his polyglot geography. He


rather stumbled and hesitated when he came
to the less known of the northern countries.
Poor Carlino could only shake his head.
How could he know that Svezia, or Sweden,
or Suede, or Schweden meant the country
which his child-heart already loved under the
very differently sounding name of Sverige ?
Just as little could the bishop or the sindaco
know that his longing thoughts were flying
like birds of passage northward to a pine-
shaded home, mirrored in the blue waters of
Lake Melar.
Had the two Italians known the Swedish
colors, perhaps through some association of
ideas they would have been led to think of
Carlino's country, as he stood there with the
yellow curls falling down on the blue velvet
jacket, in which the bishop had been pleased
to dress his unexpected guest. They prob-
ably did not, and therefore the burgomaster,
playfully pinching Carlino's ear, bade him
addioo," and left the episcopal palace, if not
exactly a sadder, at least a wiser and less con-
ceited, man.



NEXT night Carlino had a strange dream.
In Sweden the spelling-books are adorned
with the picture of a cock, as a symbol of early
rising. One of the most magnificent of these
learned birds is found in the A B C book of
Charles XII. This very cock, with its golden
royal crown, stepped bodily out of the first
page and began to examine Carlino. When
he did not know his lesson, the cock grew very
angry; it crowed in a higher and higher pitch,
bobbing its head so that the golden crown
rolled off the red comb. Carlino stooped
down to pick it up. When he looked up
again, lo! there was the cock changed into the
fat sindaco, looking so fierce that the boy
woke, sobbing, in a sudden fright. How he
wished that he were back at home with his


parents, and could throw his arms around his
mother's neck!
Involuntarily he stretched out his arms and
threw them around the neck of the bishop,
who that very moment was leaning over the
bed. Bachelor as he was, the prelate was
looking at the boy as tenderly as a father
might look at his first-born child.
Carlino, Carlino mio, my little Carlino,
why do you cry? said the bishop, soothingly.
The boy forgot all his fears, gave monsig-
nore a kiss, and threw himself back on the
pillows, a playful smile breaking through the
The bishop made him understand that he
had better get up. Antonio brought his shoes,
and after a hasty breakfast he went, holding
the bishop's hand, down to the entrance, where
the episcopal carriage was waiting. The bish-
op put the boy beside him in the carriage.
"To the station," he said to Hook-nose,
who shut the carriage-door and jumped up by
the footman.
That day people took a greater interest than
usual in the bishop's well-known olive-green
carriage, drawn by the two black horses, whose


flowing tails, according to the fashion among
the horses of Italian church aristocracy, reached
almost to the ground. The object of this
special interest was a small white face lighted
by the great blue eyes, that peeped out of a
frame of golden curls. It formed a strong
contrast to the dark figure of the bishop and
the somber color of the whole equipage.
They soon turned from the main street
down into the winding road. The landscape
below their feet looked like a sea of undulating
hills, the most distant, blue, the nearer, green,
and flecked by olive-trees, all dotted with
churches and villas like white flowers. Far
away in the misty distance rose the snow-clad
tops of the Apennines. The sight of the
snow, an old acquaintance to the bewildered
little stranger, made him call out in his own
language. The bishop thought it sounded
half joy, half sorrow.
When the carriage stopped at the station,
Carlino had the pleasure of speaking to his old
friends, the gendarme and the station-master.
There was not much time, however, for the
whistle of the coming train already swept over


the valley. Carlino went with the bishop out
on to the platform. He had long ago ceased
to wonder at anything that happened, the
last two months having been so full of strange
events. He thought this sudden trip quite
natural, and, under the circumstances, rather
pleasant, as he was to accompany his kind
friend the bishop.
Great was his dismay when monsignore said,
"Addio, Carlino," and stepped alone into the
"Be good to gold-head, Antonio. I will be
back in a week," said the bishop to the foot-
man. The station-master gave the signal, the
sad shriek of the locomotive sounded far over
the country, off went the train, and there
stood by the side of Mr. Hook-nose a boy
whose heart that moment felt more lonely than
it is possible for grown-up people to under-
stand. Brave as he was, he cried and hid his
face in his hands, just as he had done when he
was found in the luggage-room of this very
station a few days before.
His kind friends of that day could not com-
fort him now, for his new friend Mr. Hook-


nose bustled him in a hurry into the bishop's
carriage, slamming the door in an ominous
So it came about that gold-head, in grand
state, with a pair of horses and a footman, was
riding through the town all by himself in the
episcopal carriage.



ALAS! the grandeur of riding like a grown-
up gentleman in the bishop's coup did not
bring any comfort to the lonely soul which
enjoyed this great privilege.
The boy's heart was filled with dark fore-
bodings. These half unconscious fears were
not dispersed by the looks of Antonio. There
is a way of saying hard things only with looks.
Mr. Hook-nose knew this art to perfection.
His dark eyes, from the very first moment
they rested upon the child, had plainly shown
their natural aversion to the honest blue eyes
of the Swedish boy.
From day to day Carlino now had the op-
portunity of seeing that Antonio was as good
as his looks." That individual considered
cruelty to animals a very amusing and in-
nocent pastime. Freed from the restraint


caused by the bishop's presence, he proved
more and more that he looked upon a foreign
boy as a good substitute for a donkey or a
bird. Of course he did not dare to beat or
kick Carlino. He only bullied him, and
pricked him with invisible pins and needles.
He laughed mockingly at him; he clinched his
fist before his face; he pretended to trip him
up with his foot. When serving Carlino's
dinner, if the cook had put on the tray some
delicacy, like an extra fine peach or a zuppa
Inglese Antonio deliberately took it and ate
it before the boy's eyes.
One day, when Carlino happened to go into
the bishop's library, Antonio was burying his
hooked nose deep in a desk where the bishop
kept some of his valuables. The boy, who
wanted to get his cap, which he had left in the
room, innocently went to take it from the table
close to the desk. Antonio started, shut the
drawer, hid the key in his pocket, and, pale
with rage, caught the boy by the long curls.
With the free hand he took a pair of scissors
from the writing-table, and in a second there
fell on the carpet something like golden clus-
ters of acacia. One more cut of the scissors,


and the remaining curls shared the same
Now Carlino, in fact, had often wished to
get rid of his curls. It had happened more
than once on their account that he had been
taken for a girl. Now he felt very differently.
His whole being rebelled against this summary
performance by a person who had absolutely
no right over him. His surprise and indigna-
tion were too deep for words. When the curls
had fallen and his head was loosened from the
grip of Mr. Hook-nose, he did not utter a
sound. He simply turned around and gave
his tormentor a look of calm defiance. The
only sign of emotion was a trembling around
his lips. Then with an air of decision he went
off to his room.
It may have been the unexpectedness of the
boy's behavior, or fear for the consequences of
an act which it would be difficult to explain;
at all events, Antonio soon seemed to regret the
outcome of his hasty mood. When he brought
the boy's dinner he wore a most friendly face.
He even condescended with his own hands to
put the best piece of a fowl on his plate.
In the kitchen Mr. Hook-nose reported that


monsignore had ordered him "to crop the
youngster," as he was to be put in the Choir-
boys' School, and there, of course, "it would
be out of tune to keep such an elegant head-
gear as that."



A POOR little four-legged creature was
moving slowly along the dusty road leading
from the railway-station up to the town. It
was a hungry-looking dog, a black dachshund
with pointed nose-one of those queer, short-
legged animals upon whom nature certainly
might have bestowed an extra pair of legs in
the middle, in order to support a body which
seems decidedly too long.
It was plain that the dog either was a stray
dog, without any master, or else was running
away without leave. Most likely the latter,
for he evidently had not a clear conscience.
He had a scared look when he met anybody,
man or beast. On, such occasions his tail
dropped between his legs, and he cautiously
made a wide sweep, glancing sideways from
out his wise eyes, which looked very dark


under the light-brown spots that gave his
whole face a wild expression.
The dachshund, no doubt, had had a sad
experience of life. He did not trust man, nor
even his own kind. When he arrived in town
his whole behavior seemed, even more than
before, to express a humble apology for his
bare existence. When he met a dog in better
circumstances, he looked so humble that he
generally succeeded in escaping notice. Once
only an elegant greyhound made a dash at
him, but merely to turn proudly away, as a
closer inspection revealed his poverty-stricken
This event served to quicken the pace of
our splayfooted friend. He waddled briskly
along on his crooked legs, led by his keen
scent. Without much hesitation he went
straight to his goal, which turned out to be
the episcopal palace. There he sniffed about
with a set expression, turned round the corner,
and ran at his fastest speed to the garden
entrance by the porter's lodge. Standing up
on his hind legs, he looked between the iron
railings and gave a joyous bark. Here was
what he had been seeking through weary days


and nights, running many miles along the rail-
way track or upon unknown roads. There in
the garden he beheld his friend and fellow-
traveler-indeed, he might say fellow-sufferer,
as the boy more than once had shared his own
He, the dachshund, had at first looked sus-
piciously upon this youngster, that so unex-
pectedly appeared in his mistress's cabin when
the steamer at Cologne started up the Rhine.
Soon, however, he persuaded himself that the
boy was just as kind toward dogs as he was
lonely and sad. He therefore made up his
mind to bestow his friendship and protection
on the intruder.
To this decision he stuck faithfully, and he
had no reason to regret it. Many a time he
had received from that two-legged creature a
goodly share of its scant allowance of bread,
and often he had been sheltered from the
dampness of a bare stone floor by the loan of
its jacket.
Great was his sorrow and anxiety when he
missed the boy. He had noticed that their
mistress took him out at one station and then
came back alone. He very soon made up his


mind to start upon a search for his lost com-
Now he had found him. There he stood
by a rose-bush in the garden. Forgotten was
the weariness of the long tramp, forgotten the
fact that he had left a place disagreeable, no
doubt, in certain respects, but where he was
at least sure of his frugal daily bread. In his
joy he wagged his sleek round tail, he jumped
up at the railings, he barked and whined alter-
Finally he succeeded in attracting Carlino's
There he comes-is running down the walk;
now he opens the gate, and the next second
he is sitting down on a carpet of red and yel-
low autumn leaves, caressing the dachshund,
who is licking his hands and face, and in its
eagerness rubbing off all the dust from its
glossy black skin on to the boy's blue velvet
At last the dog quietly nestled down in the
lap of his friend, who seemed to think that he
understood Swedish.
"Well, Pax, my little doggie," he said in
his own language, "how thin you are! Now


we'll run away, won't we? You will help me
to find my parents. Hush! hush! don't let
on to that black man coming down there."
Pax looked intelligently up into the boy's
face, as if he understood every word. His
natural temper, however, got the better of
him when his attention was drawn to Mr.
Hook-nose. He turned his head, pricked up
his ears, and, barking furiously, flew at the
black stockings. Poor fellow! he forgot that
when he started on his adventurous trip he
had chosen as his guide and watchword the
wise old saying Discretion is the better part
of valor." He was hurled back by a violent
kick, which sent him flying off into the grass.
Luckily for him, through the fierceness of his
attack the shoe had dropped off Antonio's big
foot. Now he was only enough hurt to be
willing to obey the boy's call and withdraw
from the fight. Carlino did not, however,
succeed in shielding his friend from a cruel
whipping. When Hook-nose with a stick was
dealing heavy blows at the dog, Carlino made
a dash at him with clinched fists, and pum-
meled him with all his might and main. Alas!
his effort had no other effect than the man


shaking himself free as a bulldog might shake
off a tiny cur. Antonio did not even strike
the boy, as the latter expected he would. As
soon as Pax was sent howling with pain into
a dark corner of the garden, Hook-nose only
laughed scornfully, and thereupon slowly
sauntered away, his hands in his trousers'
pockets. He looked very well contented with
himself, whistling cheerfully, as though he
were sure that this time he had behaved like
a real gentleman, a very good and forgiving
gentleman, not revenging himself, only using
his manly superiority for self-defense.


P. P. C.

CARLINO, pale with indignation, followed
with his eye the retreating form of Mr. Hook-
nose passing slowly along, until it disappeared
in the darkness as a part of darkness itself.
Having heard at last the sound of his steps
clattering on the stairs leading to the servants'
hall, the boy ventured to stir. He crept into
the bushes, and, with a low whistle, called for
his friend. The poor dog came limping along,
looking so frightened and sad out of his mild
eyes that Carlino felt ready to cry. There was
no time, however, for tears. He put his pocket-
handkerchief down on the ground, and told Pax
to watch it, being sure that this faithful creature
would be found on the same spot when he
came back. He then hurried stealthily into
his room, filled his pocket and a handkerchief
with bread and biscuits, which for some days


he had secreted in a drawer, instead of eating
them with his meals. Ever since his advent-
ure with Antonio in the bishop's library he
had made up his mind to run away. He
would try to get home, whatever might hap-
pen. He felt sure that now was the time to
start. Had not Pax come on purpose to be
his traveling companion?
He was just leaving the room, when he
turned back once more. He thought of the
kind bishop. If he only could leave some-
thing in the bishop's room to show him how
grateful he was! He felt in his pockets; ex-
cept the biscuits, he had nothing but a knife
and a leather folding-cup. Both these things
he badly needed for his journey. He was
just going to give up his plan, when his eyes
fell upon a pair of his stockings left on a chair.
He immediately took one of them, went into
the bishop's bedroom, and tucked it under the
blanket in the bed. It somehow seemed to
him that this odd visiting-card was better than
nothing. This done, he stole cautiously along
the passage, and, unnoticed, reached the gar-
den. Next minute he and Pax had left the
episcopal premises.

P. P. C.

At half-past nine-about an hour after their
flight-the bell of the palace was rung in a
very imperative manner.
Mr. Hook-nose, who answered the bell, was
very much surprised, and even startled, to see
the jolly face of the fat sindaco, who, panting
with the exertion of rapid walking, very eag-
erly proceeded to communicate the contents
of a letter received from the bishop.
The letter ran as follows:

"ROME, October 7th.
"MY DEAR SINDACO: Imagine how pleased
I was yesterday to have from a friend some-
thing that surely concerns our gold-head. My
friend was invited to dine with the Swedish
ambassador. That gentleman happened to say
that he had read in the Swedish papers about
a very well known Swede and his wife who in
a mysterious manner had lost their only child,
a boy six years of age. They stayed over
night at Cologne, and next morning the boy,
who had been playing in the hotel garden by
the river, was nowhere to be found. It was be-
lieved that he had been drowned, as his straw
hat was found in the river. The distressed


parents decided to spend some weeks on the
Rhine. A few days ago they had a visit from
a Swedish painter, who told them about his
having noticed on the train between Milan and
Florence a most picturesque little fellow, who
formed a striking contrast to the dark Italian
children. His eyes were deep blue, and long
golden curls fell to his shoulders. 'That is
my boy!' immediately exclaimed the lady,
to the great astonishment of the painter,
who never had heard about their child being
"I need not tell you, my dear sindaco, that
my friend had scarcely finished before I hurried
to the house of the Swedish ambassador, who
looked rather astonished at being called upon
by a Roman Catholic bishop, but, nevertheless,
received me most courteously. He was very
much interested in my account of our prot6g6,
and we decided that the boy ought immedi-
ately to be sent to the Swedish embassy. May
I ask you kindly to see about his being put on
the night train so that he can be here in the
"Yours, etc."

P. P. C.

The sindaco, having in few words told An-
tonio the contents of the above letter, asked
him to get the boy ready immediately.
I will go with him myself," he added, with
his look of official importance.
Mr. Hook-nose actually, in spite of his grand
manners, looked thrown off his balance. He
was revolving in his mind the possibilities of
explaining to the burgomaster the sudden dis-
appearance of gold-head's golden curls. He
had much on his conscience just now, and did
not like the authorities to look into his game.
It was a relief to him when he came back to
be able to say Carlino was not to be found in
the house nor in the garden.
He can't be far away, sir," he added, put-
ting on an unconcerned air. I saw him in
the garden not long ago. He certainly will
be back in a little while."



PAX looked upon four legs as a sure sign of
superiority over a two-legged companion-at
least as far as walking was concerned. From
the very outset he took the command, and
led the trotting just in advance of Carlino.
Strange to say, he did not seem to have any
hesitation as to the road. It almost looked as
though he had been over the country before
and planned the route in detail.
On the whole, the two friends were of good
cheer. They plodded along in the dark. Pax
especially was in the happy humor that always
follows success. The whole maneuver was a
triumph for his sagacity and his superior scent,
in which he, however personally unassuming,
placed a very decided family pride.
As for Carlino, he had, like many a Swedish
boy, a love of adventure that learned men
have tried to prove an heirloom from the old


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%tlf, PaL 57.

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IfkjPf~: ~



Vikings. It was this same adventurous spirit,
coupled with an unbounded confidence in his
fellow-creatures, that had led him to accept at
Cologne the invitation, given in the universal
language of signs, of an unknown lady-an
invitation to enjoy a meal of raisins and apri-
cots in the cabin on board the steamer.
Sure enough, the sad outcome of this visit,
as well as the last days' intercourse with Mr.
Hook-nose, had somewhat ruffled Carlino's op-
timistic view of humankind.
If he had been older he might perhaps have
spoken his mind in the words of the philoso-
pher who said, "The better I learn to know
man, the better I love dogs." Happily, he
was too hopeful yet for such pessimism. Ex-
hilarated by the tramp, and homeward bound,
as he thought, he cheerfully followed the par-
ticular dog that he loved, and left mankind
out of account.
Having walked for about three hours, the
two travelers stopped in the shelter of a big
walnut-tree. There they shared a meal of
bread and biscuits out of the provision that
Carlino had brought with him. This agreeable
occupation soon coming to an end, Pax had the


good sense immediately to start afresh. The
boy would have liked a great deal better to
lie down then and there for a nap, in spite of
the chill night air; but he was unwilling to
acknowledge himself tired before such a little
fellow as Pax, so they trudged on.
The night grew darker and darker. The
stars, that hung like glistening lamps from the
vast deep-blue cupola over their heads, were
by and by covered with clouds, sailing like
huge black vessels before a wind that blew
harder every minute. Soon a heavy rain be-
gan to fall, in big, cold drops. It was not
long before the two companions had not a dry
thread on their backs-be it said without lack
of respect for Mr. Pax's glossy black fur coat.
The boy tried manfully to bear both the rain
and the cold as best he could. Father likes
me to be brave," he said to himself. But he
could not help shedding tears as he thought
of his home with the snug white bed, and of
his mother, coming every night, as long as he
could remember, to hear his evening prayer,
and give him his good-night kiss.
The worst of it all was an overwhelming
sleepiness that was creeping over him. He


actually almost slept walking. Pax looked
back anxiously when the boy reeled from one
side of the road to the other. The dog grew
still more alarmed when his sharp ears heard
the dull sound of hoofs coming closer and
closer upon them. Suddenly there was a
thump, Carlino tumbled headlong on the road,
Pax gave a distressed bark, and the strong
voice of a man was heard calling out, Whoa,
Rosina!" The rider got down, lit the candle
of a small lantern, which barely gave light
enough to reveal Carlino as he crawled out of
the mud, unhurt, from under the legs of a
long-eared donkey answering to the poetical
name of Rosina.
Luckily for him, that worthy soul, with the
remarkable common sense of her much ma-
ligned race, had stopped as if rooted to the
ground, in order not to hurt the boy whom
she had inadvertently upset. The wise crea-
ture whisked her long ears, turned her rugged
head, and bestowed one half-humorous glance
upon the victim, as if measuring his size and
his weight. She seemed rather set at ease
when she saw that it was a small and thin boy.
She no doubt inferred that her master, as


"damages" due to the boy, would invite him
to take a ride.
So he did. He lifted Carlino up, and placed
him in a big basket hanging on one side of the
patient Rosina. The corresponding basket on
the other side was already occupied by a sleep-
ing Italian youngster just as dark as the little
Swede was fair. Behind the saddle, on the
top of a haystack, were fastened two small
crutches, a guitar, a violin, a tambourine, and
a flute. The man having mounted, the won-
derful Rosina carried the whole caravan all by
herself. Pax formed the rear-guard.
Carlino soon went to sleep. He was waked
by the hot rays of the sun literally scorching
his neck. Rosina's master was walking by
the roadside. He was a tall man with a big
black beard. On his head he wore a coni-
cal felt hat adorned with red tassels. His
stately body was clad in red waistcoat, blue
jacket, knickerbockers of yellow leather, and
broad sandals bound with blue ribbons. The
little Italian boy, who was running ahead, gam-
boling with Pax, wore the same garb in minia-
ture. The father gave a sharp whistle, which
called the boy back. Rosina halted, and, to


the astonishment of Carlino, the man took
down the crutches and hooked up one of the
legs of the boy, who hobbled along, putting
on a serious face. The boy being now in full
uniform, ready for action, his father went to
assist Rosina in her toilet. He decorated her
head with a gorgeous tuft of cock's feathers
standing up between her long ears. Then he
attached around her belly a string of prettily
jingling brass bells fastened to a piece of fur.
"Why, the chap is awake!" the man mut-
tered, when he noticed Carlino, who was look-
ing intently at him out of his hanging bed.
He lifted him down, and, pulling out some
bread and cheese from the depth of the basket
where Carlino had spent the night, he gave
the whole troupe a square meal; for dessert,
Pax and the little Italian, Giacomo by name,
had the last episcopal biscuits out of Carlino's
Of course Rosina was not included in the
treat. She had to look out for herself, accord-
ing to the Italian rule that an ass ought to
feed on nothing." She bore her fate with a
resigned air, browsing a few mouthfuls of
dusty thistles from the roadside.


When they had finished their breakfast, the
man hung the guitar by its faded red ribbon
over his shoulder, and thrust the tambourine
into the hands of the astonished Carlino, who
looked quite changed in his begrimed suit,
with his unwashed face, deprived of its set-
ting of yellow curls. After all, tambourine in
hand, he did not seem very much out of place
as a member of a troupe of wandering musi-
The procession moved on, and a funny pro-
cession it was. At the head, the man, with
his grave face, playing his guitar and singing
a jolly song at the top of his voice; then
Rosina with her baskets, pompously nodding
her wise head, her bells dingling their merry
accompaniment; behind her, the youngsters,
Carlino already knocking the tambourine in a
manner that promised very well for a future
artistic career, and Giacomo, the artificial crip-
ple, showing to the astonished, barking Pax
his cleverness in throwing one of his crutches
high in the air and catching it again.



THE road made a sharp turn by the gray
wall of a vineyard. Two brawny women were
coming down the steps leading to the road.
They were balancing on their heads low bas-
kets with grapes, some of the bunches lolling
over the edge almost to their shoulders. They
both stopped to look at the procession, which
ascended the hill toward a large stone house,
an old palace, or rather part of a palace, one
half being in ruins, its broken walls and ar-
cades covered with ivy. The other half was
used as a common abode for the farmer, his
mules, his pair of spotless gray oxen, his
chickens, and his children. The musician went
to the door, overhung by heavy ears of bright
yellow corn, took off his hat, and asked a
question. The answer evidently was agree-
able, for, with a very contented air, he marched
his troop along past the house, singing:


How sweetly sounds thy guitar,
0 orange flower!
But sweeter than the rest by far,
0 orange flower,
That little string, the last dear string,
Where love and dance together sing."

When they reached the small open yard on
the other side of the house, Carlino stopped
short in astonishment at the sight before him.
On the top of a wall, overlooking the valley,
there were placed three large stone vats,
heaped full of grapes, red, blue, and white.
To the sound of a clarionet, young men, their
heads crowned with vine-leaves, their legs bare
up to the thighs, were merrily dancing on the
bed of grapes.
The performer on the clarionet stopped
playing as soon as he caught sight of the well-
known musician. The dancers also stopped
dancing, and from their lips, as well as from
those of the bystanders, went up one shout of
joy, saluting the artistta" When the musi-
cian had finished the song he was singing, he
put his guitar in its place on Rosina's back,
took down the violin, stayed his little cripple
against the wall with a flute before his mouth,


and so the dance began with renewed vigor.
The bleeding grapes spurted their purple jets
around the dancers' naked feet, the juice
sprinkled their sunburned faces, their black
hair was bedewed by the mist of wine. When
one pair of dancers were tired, they were re-
lieved by others. New pails of grapes were
emptied into the vats, when their contents
were well pressed down, the juice all the
time, like a reddish brook, trickling down into
wooden butts below.
The lively music attracted the people from
the village, distant but a stone's-throw. When
the musician thought his audience well warmed
by song and music, he made signs to Carlino
to take up a collection in the tambourine.
Far from objecting, Carlino enjoyed his new
dignity very much. Every time a greasy
soldo danced on the yellowish skin of his tam-
bourine, he saluted, soldier fashion, touching
his cap with two fingers. When he had gone
the round, he handed the tambourine to the
musician with a profound bow.
0 bellino! 0 carino!" How sweet he
is! What a darling!" the women exclaimed,
laughing so that their white teeth gleamed in


the sun, to vie with their golden ear-rings,
which swung lustily when they moved their
heads to and fro, repeating their "bellino,
In the middle of the day there was a pause,
all the helpers in the vintage being treated to
a good dinner of polenta and bacon, with
All having rested until the day was some-
what cooler, dancers, musicians, and lookers-
on were again ready for work. The boys were
allowed the afternoon free. They improved
the opportunity to visit a pond not very far
off. Walled in by steep masonry, it had been
built in the old signorial times, when the
guests of the palace rowed about in tiny cha-
loupes, gay pennants being mirrored in the
clear, deep water. The water was still clear
and transparent, but its level now stood several
feet lower. The boys played together, keep-
ing up a constant conversation by means of
signs and a few common Italian words which
Carlino had learned. Giacomo showed his
skill in throwing one of his crutches high up
in the air and catching it again on the very
edge of the parapet, jumping on one leg, as


the rules in the vicinity of a village would
not allow him to unhook the one that made
him professionally a cripple. Suddenly he
lost his balance, set up a piercing yell, and
disappeared in the water.
Carlino, like many of the boys and girls of
Sweden, had had an amphibious education, so
to speak. He had known the art of swimming
since he was four years old. Without a sec-
ond's hesitation, he threw off his jacket and
plunged, like an arrow, headforemost into the
water, in order to rescue the Italian boy, who,
even if he had been a swimmer, was fatally
hampered by his crooked leg. He managed
to reach the struggling fellow just as he was
about for the second time to disappear under
the surface. In his frantic effort to catch hold
of something to save himself by, the poor little
Italian nearly dragged Carlino down into the
depths, seizing him around the neck so that
he could not swim. Carlino succeeded, how-
ever, in freeing himself, at the same time hold-
ing up Giacomo with one hand. He clung to
the steep masonry so hard that the blood was
pressed out of his bruised fingers. Pax also,
who wanted to lend a hand, or foot, in the


work of rescue, jumped into the water. His
anxious yelps mingled with Carlino's desperate
shouts for help.
At last some one heard their cries. The
music at the vintage stopped, and the whole
crowd, headed by the musician, came running
to the pond. One of the young men was low-
ered, several others holding on to his legs.
His strong arms soon brought all the unfort-
unates up on dry ground.
It was high time, for they all were nearly
exhausted. Thereupon they were carried in
solemn procession toward the farmhouse, Gia-
como, half crying, half laughing, telling his
father, and any one else that would listen,
what a brave boy "that foreigner was," and
how he, Giacomo, would have been drowned,
"really drowned, most certainly drowned,"
had not "gold-head," as he called him, risked
his own life to save him.
Carlino had now become the hero of the
day. When their clothes were hung up to
dry before a fire in the kitchen, he and Gia-
como, wrapped in shawls, were surrounded by
a regular court of men and women, gathered
to hear Giacomo tell the adventure and to


compliment the brave foreign boy." "Oh,
bravo, bravo! they all called out.
The musician had to tell circumstantially
how he happened to meet him. Then he was
asked about the boy's father and mother,
where he came from, and what he, the musi-
cian, was going to do about him, etc., etc.
While this- eager talk was going on around
the blazing fire of dry vine and olive branches,
the door was opened for Father Giovanni, the
Franciscan, the temporary assistant of the
village priest. Having a great thirst for knowl-
edge, the reverend gentleman had started for
the farm on the very first rumor of some-
thing having happened." As soon as he was
seated, he took out a greasy wooden snuff-box
from the depths of a spacious pocket fastened
to the rope which he used as a scarf around
his heavy brown gown. Giving a tap with
two fingers on the lid, he looked around as if
taking in the whole company, strengthened
himself with a goodly pinch, and entered upon
a kind of cross-examination of all and every
one present.
In the midst of this solemn proceeding an
unexpected occurrence took place. In his


eagerness to tell the reverend father how it
happened, Giacomo forgot about being by
profession a cripple, and, all of a sudden, rush-
ing into the middle of the room, threw himself
down on the floor to show how he tumbled in.
The whole kitchen was filled with laughter at
this sudden and radical cure. The boy looked so
funny that his father, however dismayed at such
a lack of regard for business principles, could
not resist joining in the general merriment.
The uproar having ceased, the monk entered
upon the more embarrassing question of Car-
lino's past, present, and future. His success in
examining the boy was slight indeed, as he
neither understood nor was understood. At
last, in a rather impatient mood, he undertook
to catechise Carlino's jacket, which was hang-
ing on the back of the chair. Something fell
out of the pocket. It was the leather cup,
one of those old-fashioned ones shaped like a
little folded canoe. Not having been used
since Carlino was last with his parents, it was
as if glued together when Father Giovanni,
who never before had seen an article of the
kind, carefully examined it. He handed it to
Carlino, who with an effort succeeded in open-


ing it. Then there dropped out of it a slip of
paper. It was the upper part of an envelope
with an American stamp on it, and a few
words printed in the left-hand corner.
The reverend father eagerly seized the
paper. The printed words ran thus;

CARL 0. Ros,
Columbia, Me.,
U. S. of America."

Father Giovanni, who was perfectly igno-
rant of English, stumbled through these words
over and over again, as best he could. At
last he slowly and meditatively took another
pinch of snuff. Then he put his forefinger to
his forehead and rested so, wrapped in thought.
In a little while he gave a low whistle. Now
he understood the mysterious inscription, or
at least part of it. He had already found out
from the boy himself that his name was Car-
lorosso, or Carloros, or something like that.
Was it not plain that here was the address of
his father? Again, if such were the case-this
was his next, perhaps somewhat rash, con-
clusion-was it not just as plain that the
boy ought to be forwarded to Columbia to


his father? He, Padre Giovanni, of the holy
order of the Franciscans, would see about that
being done without delay. He would himself go
with the boy by rail to Genoa, where the great
steamer was lying, ready to take emigrants.
Having expounded this plan in all its de-
tails to his congregation around the fire, the
father, upon the spot, proceeded to make a
collection, which included some heavy clothing
that might be needed for the voyage. Thus
Carlino became the happy owner of an im-
mense round cloak, and of Giacomo's red
waistcoat, which the Italian boy, notwithstand-
ing Carlino's attitude of decided protest, in-
sisted on bestowing upon him. The hat hav-
ing made its round, Father Giovanni counted
the little sum, and then disappeared with Car-
lino's jacket into the adjoining room. There
he got from the farmer's wife a piece of cham-
ois leather, half a foot square. On its yellow
ground he wrote with brush and black paint
the following inscription in Italian:

Please forward to
Columbia, America.
Providence pays freight."


The farmer's wife sewed this odd label se-
curely on to the left front of the jacket. Wav-
.ing this masterpiece in his hand as a flag, the
padre again made his appearance in the kitchen.
A murmur of admiration went through the
crowd when the scheme was explained to
them. Even Carlino somehow got a vague
idea that the warm-hearted Father Giovanni
was going to help him home to his parents.
During the two hours they had to wait be-
fore the arrival of the train bound for Genoa,
Carlino enjoyed himself highly.
The stirring events of the last two days, the
evident kindness of all these people, the possi-
bility of a sort of conversation with Giacomo,
who almost seemed to understand Swedish,
the very undefined, but none the less, as he
thought, certain hope that he now was to be
put on the right track for home, and last, but
not least, the strengthening dinner after the
cold bath-all served to bring back his ordi-
nary buoyancy of spirits, sorely affected by the
last weeks' trials and separation.



AT nine o'clock in the evening, Father
Giovanni, Carlino, and Pax, the latter snarling
suspiciously at the monk's bare feet, stuck in
loose wooden sandals, passed up the gangway
to the steamship "Allonia," which was to
transfer directly to Charleston, S. C., a large
number of Italian emigrants bound for various
points of destination in the Southern States.
With the addition of what cash the reverend
father produced out of his own savings, the
collection was enough to pay Carlino's passage,
at the very reduced price then current. As-
sisted by the Italian interpreter, Father Gio-
vanni impressed upon the officer by whom they
were received on board that his little prot6g6
was a most remarkable person, and that he
ought to be well cared for, and that his parents
would be sure to show their gratitude upon his
arrival. The officer-it was the second mate


-listened in a very absent-minded way, the
father thought. He did not even answer, only
looked fixedly at the boy. The reverend gen-
tleman then tried to get him into a more com-
municative mood by enticing him to regale
himself with a pinch of snuff. When the
American rather sternly refused this peace-
offering, Father Giovanni, with a humorous
look of offended astonishment, consoled himself
with a generous pinch of the aromatic powder,
and turned to accompany Carlino to his place
in the steerage.
As the steamer was to lift anchor early next
morning, Father Giovanni soon had to bid
good-by. Carlino, who was very fond of giv-
ing presents, took the leather cup out of his
pocket and thrust it into the monk's wallet.
He could not understand why this seemed to
make the father sad. At any rate, he very
plainly saw him wiping away a tear from the
brown, sunburned cheek.
Next minute Father Giovanni's slippers
were shuffling along the gangway, Pax stand-
ing at the top and giving several short, discon-
tented barks at the descending feet.
Pax was perhaps not altogether wrong in


barking at the retreating form of the reverend
father; for in that gentleman's wallet there
was, inside the leather cup, which could be
easily replaced, another thing that could not.
There was the piece of paper with the address.
It was not the address of Carlino's father, as
the monk had taken it for granted, but it was
the name and residence of an uncle, who had
been living for more than twenty years in
America. He would of course have received
Carlino into his home, had the boy come there.
Unluckily, on the chamois label that Father
Giovanni attached to his living package, the
reverend father, in making his Italian version,
had not only unintentionally changed the gen-
tleman's name, but also left out .two small let-
ters, "Me.," the significance of which he did
not understand. He knew only about one
Columbia. Even that held a very vague place
in his mind. It would have been to him just
as much a myth as a city in the moon, had he
not happened to hear the name that very day.
A woman of his village had told him about
meeting in the morning train, when she was
going to market, a distant relative of hers, a
man by the name of Antonio, who had been


for some time footman to the bishop of the
diocese. This Antonio was about to sail for
America in the steamer "Allonia." He was
going to join a brother of his who was a fruit-
vendor in a town by the name of Colombia."
The possibility never struck Father Giovanni
that there could be more than one American
town named in honor of his great countryman,
the weaver's son from Genoa. Still less could
he-or, for that matter, any other uninitiated
person-imagine that those two unimportant-
looking letters were the sign-posts to show a
traveler which way to choose in order to reach
the right Columbia out of the baker's dozen
or thereabouts which are liberally scattered
among the different States of the Union.
Such, however, was the case. The two let-
ters signified the State of Maine, the most
northern of the Northern States. Could it
be that Pax, with his wonderful sagacity, had
some gloomy forebodings as to the result of
this slight omission?
On the whole, life on shipboard from the
very outset disagreed with Pax. He looked
dejected, and shortly after embarking he crept
into one of the boats, where he sullenly curled


himself up with his nose between his paws.
Nothing stirred him until the steam-whistle
with its hoarse shriek signaled to the world
that the sea-monster was bidding fair Italy
addioo." Then Pax in a most discreditable
manner howled and barked at the noble city
of Genoa, whose white marble palaces seemed
slowly to sink into the blue waters as the ves-
sel steamed off, the foam in snowy flakes surg-
ing around its proud black bow.
Carlino was asleep when this happened-
asleep and dreaming in a snug berth with white
sheets and a clean blanket-a bed altogether
different from the empty bunk in the steerage.
He had already gone to sleep among the rest
on his hard board, with his round cloak over
him, too tired even to look for his beloved
Pax, when the second mate came in and took
the boy, cloak and all, in his strong arms, car-
ried him into his cabin, and laid him softly
down at the foot of his own bed. Having
done this, the officer looked around to see that
the door was well closed against inquisitive
eyes. Then he stooped down and kissed him
tenderly. Or perhaps it might be more true
to say that in kissing the unknown stranger


he kissed another fair child with golden hair
-his own darling boy, for more than two
years sleeping quietly under the weeping ashes
at Greenwood Cemetery, outside New York.
The tall, weather-beaten sailor stood several
minutes looking at the boy who bore such a
striking resemblance to the beloved child whom
he so often, in his short stays at home, had
watched in his sleep.
At last he heaved a deep sigh, drew the
green shade over the lamp, and went out into
the night.



FOR a couple of days Carlino, like most of
the landsmen, had to pay his tribute to old
Neptune. As soon as he had overcome his
seasickness, he enjoyed the voyage famously.
He began to regain the freedom and natural-
ness which were his special characteristics.
This was to a great extent brought about by
the kindness of the second mate, who treated
him as his own child. A special pleasure to
the boy was to pick up English. It was by
far an easier language than Italian. The
words were actually often the same as in
Swedish. It would be great fun, he thought,
when he was now so soon to reach his home
in Sweden, to astonish his father and mother
with his learning, as well as with his remark-
able adventures.
No questions were asked concerning Car-
lino's point of destination. His knowledge


of English was not comprehensive enough to
allow any explanation as to the mystery of his
traveling all alone. There was the address on
his jacket; and the fact that one of the sailors,
who had formerly shared the cabin with a
Swede, insisted on the boy's mother-tongue
being Swedish, was not so very astonishing,
after all. Those Scandinavians settled in al-
most any part of the States. The boy's par-
ents, no doubt, were emigrants that had sent
for their child. Why he came by the round-
about way of Italy certainly seemed very
strange, but none the less it was a fact. A fact
it was also that Carlino, who had the perfect
freedom of the ship, was the favorite of all,
officers and crew alike. He amused them with
his fearless ways, his straight, soldier-like back,
and his sweet voice in singing the strange mel-
odies of his country, and he won their hearts by
his thoughtfulness for others, and his charming
tact and politeness.
Once he very nearly failed in the latter
respect. He was going forward in order to
have a better look at the white-caps, which
caught the brilliancy of the red evening sun.
Suddenly he was startled by a furious barking.


He found Pax in this manner showing his dis-
approval of a figure very different from any-
thing the boy's eyes had ever beheld. It was
a man dressed all in white: white jacket, white
trousers, white apron, and a big white cap
crowning a woolly head-a head which was all
black and shiny as the fellow's own unexcep-
tionable shoes. The only thing not black in
the blackness of that face was the white of the
eyes, and a double row of white teeth between
a pair of thick lips. Carlino actually fell back
at the sudden appearance of that unearthly
human magpie. To be sure, it is a very dif-
ferent thing to see a negro in a picture-book,
and, for the first time in one's six years' ex-
perience, to meet him life-size in the accoutre-
ment of a ship's cook.
Carlino must himself have felt that he was
lacking in courtesy, for he blushed up to the
roots of his hair. In a second he resolutely
approached the dark apparition and held out
his hand.
Bress my soul, young gem'man, you ain't
goin' to be afeerd of me ? said the cook, grin-
ning all over, and shaking hands with Carlino,
who bowed very solemnly and passed on.


The boy could not help looking at his hand
to see whether any of the black stuck to it.
Some of the emigrants who were looking on
read his thoughts, and burst out laughing.
Carlino lifted his head. He stopped short;
his face grew ghastly pale. He saw some-
thing that made his blood turn cold. He
thought that his eyes met the dark look of
Mr. Hook-nose.
No, no, it could not be! That man, who
now busied himself with something, so that
his face was hidden, had a big mustache, and
Antonio was closely shaved. This man also
had a big plaster on his forehead over his left
eye. Oh no, impossible! It was only imag-
Pax-what was the matter with Pax? He
was running off in dismay, his tail between his
legs. Carlino wondered whether the dog also
was afraid of that man. Of course it could
not be Antonio, he looked so different.
False or not, the impression was strong
enough to make Carlino turn back. He
wanted the protection of the kind second
Alas! the warm heart and the strong arm


of his friend would not long be able to guard
him. Three days off the American coast, the
"Allonia" was caught in a violent gale. One
moment the big vessel was trembling on the
top of a billow, which rose like a steep
mountain of transparent emerald, the next she
went down into the abyss, the white, foamy
crests arching above her, and dashing, with
the roar of thunder, over her deck. One of
these heavy seas threw the mate with such
violence against the capstan that he fell uncon-
scious on the deck. In this state he was placed
in the hospital state-room. Next day he woke
out of his deathlike slumber. The physician
was very hopeful as to his final recovery, but
he was so weak that during the remainder of
the passage nobody was allowed to see him.
However much the unlucky sufferer longed
for his young friend, he was especially anxious
to spare the boy the sad sight of his fright-
fully bruised and mangled face. Besides, he
had no claim on that boy, now on his way to
his parents. Perhaps it might be better that
the separation took place at once, as Provi-
dence seemed to order it.
When Carlino was told by the doctor that


he could not be allowed to see his kind friend,
he was in despair. He begged in the most im-
petuous manner for admission, in his eagerness
mixing Italian, English, and Swedish words,
and looking so entreatingly out of his blue eyes
that it took all the physician's sense of his
professional responsibility to withstand such
a petitioner. He had to do so, however, as
he feared it would really do harm to the fever-
ish patient.
The towers and spires of Charleston came
in sight, rising, as by magic, out of the glitter-
ing waves. Soon the whole city, framed in
the luxuriant verdure of the sunny South, ap-
peared swimming, as it were, upon the ocean.
The queen of the forest, the majestic pine,
with its straight trunk shining like gold in the
sunlight, looked out far over the sea, proudly
lifting its round crown against a deep-blue
sky. The palmetto spread its light-green fan
far above the glossy leaves of the magnolia.
Around them were seen the autumnal colors:
the brown, the gold, and the red of the elm,
the ash, and the swamp-maple, whose brilliant
attire was the only reminder that this warm
summer day really was the last day of October.


Carlino, with Pax on his lap, was sitting on
the steps to the captain's bridge, dreamily
looking at this wonderful sight. Strange
thoughts of anxiety rose in his mind. This
shore did not look at all like the coast around
Stockholm, with its girdle of a thousand isl-
ands. These trees-how different from the
oaks and the spruce on the heights around his
home! -The city itself, beautiful as it was-
even a child's eye could not escape its charm
-was so softly flat, so strangely rich in color,
such a perfect contrast to the austere Swedish
capital, built on granite rocks, and guarded by
its reef of many isles. Even before this day
he had had some misgivings as to the "Allo-
nia's course. But, more or less consciously,
he had not allowed himself to dwell upon
them. Now strange thoughts of anxiety flut-
tered in his mind like startled birds. They
seemed to cry out in despair. Or was it only
the weird cry of the seagull, suddenly diving
in the glittering waters, and then again, with
another plaintive cry, lifting its white wings to
sail far away into the blue ether?
A hand was laid on the boy's shoulder. It
was the doctor.


"ClRLINO WI I'll PiN ON IIS LAP."' Page 86.





"Here, my boy, this is for you, from the
second mate," and he put a small package into
Carlino's pocket.
Me wants to say addio," Carlino burst out.
"No, my boy," said the physician, "that
will not do. He is too weak. You tell your
folks to write a letter for you to him; that
will please him, and help him to get better.
Your father- "
Never see father, never mother-no pos-
sible," cried out Carlino, sobbing, and putting
up both hands in despair. "This no my land."
The doctor looked surprised.
Well, I know that," he said; I know that
you come from another country; but are you
not going to your father and mother? Don't
they live in America? "
"No, me go home to Sverige. This is not
Sverige! I never heard of a country with
that name," said the doctor, puzzled.
The boy looked at him in utter amazement.
This was beyond his comprehension.
This is the address of your father, isn't it?"
continued the doctor, pointing to the label on
Carlino's jacket: "'Carloros, Columbia.' "

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