One day Padre Filippo was going over Ponte S. Angelo, when he met two little boys who seemed to attract his notice. ‘Forty-two years hence you will be made a cardinal,’ he said to one, as he gave him a friendly tap with his walking-stick. ‘And that other one,’ he added, turning to his companion, ‘will be dead in two years.’
And so it came true exactly.
10
There was another peasant who, when he came into Rome on a Sunday morning, always went to the church where St. Philip was.[9] ‘You quite weary[10] one with your continual preaching about the Blessed Sacrament. I’m so tired of hearing about it, that I declare to you I don’t care so much about it as my mule does about a sack of corn.’ Padre Filippo preferred convincing people in some practical way to going into angry discussions with them; so he did not say very much in answer to the countryman’s remarks, but asked him the name of his village. Not long after he went down to this village to preach; and had a pretty little altar erected on a hill-side, and set up the Blessed Sacrament in Exposition. Then he went and found out the same countryman, and said, ‘Now bring a sack of corn near where the altar is, and let’s see what the mule does.’ The countryman placed a sack of corn near the altar, and drove the mule by to see what it would do.
The mule kicked aside the sack of corn, and fell down on its knees before the altar; and the man, seeing the token, went to confession to St. Philip, and never said anything profane any more.
11
There were two other fellows[11] who were more profane still, and who said one to the other, ‘They make such a fuss about Padre Filippo and his miracles, I warrant it’s all nonsense. Let’s watch till he passes, and one of us pretend to be dead and see if he finds it out.’
So said so done. ‘What is your companion lying on the ground for?’ said St. Philip as he passed. ‘He’s dead! Father,’ replied the other. ‘Dead, is he?’ said Padre Filippo; ‘then you must go for a bier for him.’ He had no sooner passed on than the man burst out laughing, expecting his companion to join his mirth. But his companion didn’t move. ‘Why don’t you get up?’ he said, and gave him a kick; but he made no sign. When he bent down to look at him he found he was really dead; and he had to go for the bier.