saturday, 22d.
yesterday afternoon, while the master was telling us the news of poor robetti, who will have to go on crutches, the director entered with a new pupil, a lad[7] with a very brown face, black hair, large black eyes, and thick eyebrows which met on his forehead: he was dressed entirely in dark clothes, with a black morocco belt round his waist. the director went away, after speaking a few words in the master’s ear, leaving beside the latter the boy, who glanced about with his big black eyes as though frightened. the master took him by the hand, and said to the class: “you ought to be glad. to-day there enters our school a little italian born in reggio, in calabria, more than five hundred miles from here. love your brother who has come from so far away. he was born in a glorious land, which has given illustrious men to italy, and which now furnishes her with stout laborers and brave soldiers; in one of the most beautiful lands of our country, where there are great forests, and great mountains, inhabited by people full of talent and courage. treat him well, so that he shall not perceive that he is far away from the city in which he was born; make him see that an italian boy, in whatever italian school he sets his foot, will find brothers there.” so saying, he rose and pointed out on the wall map of italy the spot where lay reggio, in calabria. then he called loudly:—
“ernesto derossi!”—the boy who always has the first prize. derossi rose.
“come here,” said the master. derossi left his bench and stepped up to the little table, facing the calabrian.
“as the head boy in the school,” said the master to him, “bestow the embrace of welcome on this new companion, in the name of the whole class—the embrace of the sons of piedmont to the son of calabria.”
derossi embraced the calabrian, saying in his clear[8] voice, “welcome!” and the other kissed him impetuously on the cheeks. all clapped their hands. “silence!” cried the master; “don’t clap your hands in school!” but it was evident that he was pleased. and the calabrian was pleased also. the master assigned him a place, and accompanied him to the bench. then he said again:—
“bear well in mind what i have said to you. in order that this case might occur, that a calabrian boy should be as though in his own house at turin, and that a boy from turin should be at home in calabria, our country fought for fifty years, and thirty thousand italians died. you must all respect and love each other; but any one of you who should give offence to this comrade, because he was not born in our province, would render himself unworthy of ever again raising his eyes from the earth when he passes the tricolored flag.”
hardly was the calabrian seated in his place, when his neighbors presented him with pens and a print; and another boy, from the last bench, sent him a swiss postage-stamp.
