Arethusa, you remember? the lovely maiden of Elis, who was seen bathing and pursued by the river god, Alpheus. The maid, appealing to Artemis, was changed to a fountain, whereupon Alpheus mingled his stream with hers, and they both sank into the earth, passed under the sea, and rose again in Ortygia:
“Like friends once parted,
Grown single-hearted
. . . . . . . . . .
Like spirits that lie
In the azure sky
When they love, but live no more!”
Would you know how she looks to an artist? The next time you are at the Metropolitan Museum in New York, look at George Fuller’s lovely picture of Arethusa, and you will learn.
The fountain rises from an arch in the rock and spreads into a wide picturesque pool, where papyrus and water lilies grow.
The concert was over, the band put up their instruments, the crowd began to disperse; it was time to leave the Passeggiata Aretusa. As we drove back to the lady’s house she pointed out a large building.
“See, they have nearly finished that labor—who knows when it would have been done if it had not been for the earthquake? The American Mees Davis had a hand in that.”
“You know Miss Davis?” I asked.
“If I know her? Per Bacco, who does not? I tell you that woman is a marvel! You have heard what she accomplished after the earthquake, she and the German Dr. Colmers? We had three thousand of those poor creatures to feed, house and clothe. Magari! it would have gone hard without the help of that woman—and what influence, what power she possessed! She had but to ask, no matter what, it was granted—money, but thousands of scudi; work-rooms, the Sindaco gave her three in the Palazzo Municipale.”
Miss Davis! That is another story; it has been told elsewhere, will, I hope, be more fully told by Miss Davis herself. She had come to Sicily for a vacation, having so overworked herself that the trustees of her Woman’s Prison at Bedford insisted she should take a few months’ rest. The day after the earthquake she offered her services for relief work. Syracuse was fortunate in having a good Prefect, a good Mayor, doubly fortunate in having two women of power among the volunteers—Miss Davis and the Marchesa di Rudini, daughter of Mr. Labouchere, the editor of Truth. Miss Davis had with her just six hundred dollars; this she promptly spent for the relief work. Her first purchase was two hundred francs’ worth of pocket handkerchiefs. She had besides, what the American Committee in Rome had, faith unlimited in the heart of America; that is better than a bank account.
“From the point of view of actual achievement,” writes Mr. Cutting, “and also of example, Miss Davis’ feat at Syracuse seems to me the most important single contribution to the problem of rehabilitating the sufferers from the earthquake.”