near the swing-bridge, where undeniable steamships go and come between the inner and the outer sea, I saw a crowd gathered about a man who was exhibiting a picture and expounding its purport; every other minute the male listeners doffed their hats, and the females bowed and crossed themselves.  When I had pressed near enough to hear the speaker, I found he was just finishing a wonderful story, in which he himself might or might not have faith, but which plainly commanded the credit of his auditors.  Having closed his narrative, the fellow began to sell it in printed form—­little pamphlets with a rude illustration on the cover.  I bought the thing for a soldo, and read it as I walked away.

A few days ago—­thus, after a pious exordium, the relation began —­in that part of Italy called Marca, there came into a railway station a Capuchin friar of grave, thoughtful, melancholy aspect, who besought the station-master to allow him to go without ticket by the train just starting, as he greatly desired to reach the Sanctuary of Loreto that day, and had no money to pay his fare The official gave a contemptuous refusal, and paid no heed to the entreaties of the friar, who urged all manner of religious motives for the granting of his request.  The two engines on the train (which was a very long one) seemed about to steam away—­but, behold, con grande stupore di tutti, the waggons moved not at all!  Presently a third engine was put on, but still all efforts to start the train proved useless.  Alone of the people who viewed this inexplicable event, the friar showed no astonishment; he remarked calmly, that so long as he was refused permission to travel by it, the train would not stir.  At length un ricco signore found a way out of the difficulty by purchasing the friar a third-class ticket; with a grave reproof to the station-master, the friar took his seat, and the train went its way.

But the matter, of course, did not end here.  Indignant and amazed, and wishing to be revenged upon that frataccio, the station-master telegraphed to Loreto, that in a certain carriage of a certain train was travelling a friar, whom it behoved the authorities to arrest for having hindered the departure of the said train for fifteen minutes, and also for the offense of mendicancy within a railway station.  Accordingly, the Loreto police sought the offender, but, in the compartment where he had travelled, found no person; there, however, lay a letter couched in these terms:  “He who was in this waggon under the guise of a humble friar, has now ascended into the arms of his Santissima Madre Maria.  He wished to make known to the world how easy it is for him to crush the pride of unbelievers, or to reward those who respect religion.”