A certain aged lady was desirous of eating figs, and went out into her garden, intending to knock down a few with a long pole; but finding herself unable to do this, in spite of her infirmities she began climbing the tree to pick them, and did not even take off her slippers. At this juncture the Devil, in human shape, happened to pass by, and thinking that the old lady was about to fall, said to her, “My good woman, if you wish to climb a tree to gather figs, you should at least remove your slippers, otherwise you will most assuredly fall and break your bones.” To this the old lady replied angrily, “My good sir, it does not matter to you whether I climb the tree with slippers or without them; pray go about your business, that I may not say, to perdition!” So she went on climbing; but just as she was about to seize the branch on which the figs were, one of her slippers came off, and she fell to the ground. Lying on the ground, she began to scream; and when her family came to see what was the matter she would say nothing but “The Devil blinded me!—the Devil blinded me!” The Devil, who was not far off, went up to her, and hearing what she said, found it more than he could stand, and really blinded both her eyes, saying, “I warned you, and asked you not to climb the tree in slippers, telling you that you would fall, and in return for that you gave me a very rude answer. And now, instead of saying, ‘If I had listened to that wayfarer I should not have fallen,’ you say ‘The Devil blinded me;’ and I, who am really the Devil, have blinded you in very truth. What’s the good of blaming the cat when the mistress is mad?” So saying, the Devil vanished away, and the obstinate old woman was left without her eyesight.
THE SUITOR AND THE PICTURE.
A certain man of Celento having come to Naples to attend to a law-suit, was forced to take a house; and in order to be near the Vicaria,[[36]] he took one close to the Convent of San Giovanni a Carbonara. In this house he found an old picture hanging on the wall, all black and grimed with smoke, to which, thinking it to represent some saint, he recommended himself most fervently every time he left the house, praying that he might be preserved from every misfortune, find a good lawyer, and gain his case. The first time he said his prayers before this picture, on returning home at night, he was attacked and beaten by thieves. On the next day he fell down the stairs and bruised himself all over; and on the third he was arrested and imprisoned for a theft which had been committed near his lodging. On coming out of prison he once more addressed his prayers to the unknown image for a good lawyer; but this petition, too, was granted the wrong way, for he fell into the hands of one who was the greatest scoundrel and blunderer that could be imagined. The poor Celentano, quite broken down by his troubles, redoubled his prayers to the smoky picture in hopes of at least gaining his law-suit; but after this last attempt, seeing that things were going from bad to worse, he came home, no longer able to contain himself. “Now,” he said, “I want to see what the picture is which has gained me so many benefits from Heaven, and worked so many miracles in my favour.” He therefore took it down from the wall, and, after having carefully cleaned it, perceived that it represented a lawyer in his robes. Whereat he cried, “Ah! thou accursed race! none other could have worked such miracles! A fine saint I had chosen as my protector!” And therewith he cut the picture in pieces and threw it into the fire.
A peasant of Chiaramonte,[[37]] returning home by moonlight, on his ass, with two panniers of fresh-plucked grapes, passed by a cypress-tree, on which an owl was sitting. The owl began to hoot and moan in so piteous a manner that it seemed as though he would moan out his very heart. Poor Vito (every Chiaramonte man is called Vito) was a fool, but he had a kind heart, and he was saddened by the moaning of the owl, thinking that perhaps he was hungry. So, overcome by compassion, he called out, “Owl of mine, dost thou want a bunch of grapes?” The owl went on hooting “Cciù.”[[38]] “How? Is one bunch not enough?—dost thou want two?” “Cciù.” “Oh! how hungry thou must be!—dost want a basketful?” “Cciù.” “But—holy Death! thou art insatiable!—perhaps thou wouldst like the whole pannier?” “Cciù!” “Go to the devil! I have a wife and children, and I cannot give thee everything!”
NEWSPAPER HUMOUR.
During the recent elections there was a large popular demonstration at Bergamo, where the police mustered in great force to prevent a disturbance. A fiery-spirited youth, seeing a gentleman escorted by two policemen, made a sudden rush to deliver him from his captors. In vain the supposed victim protested that his generous interposition was quite uncalled for.
“Ah! Signore, I could not for a moment think of leaving you in the hands of these minions of injustice.”
“Pray, sir, moderate yourself.”
“Moderate myself? We are not Moderates; we are Progressists, we are!”