rments
the signs, the traces, of his toil." Remember this. And you must
love the little mason, first, because he is your comrade; and next,
because he is the son of a workingman.

THY FATHER.

A SNOWBALL.

Friday, 16th.

It is still snow, snow. A shameful thing happened in connection with the
snow this morning when we came out of school. A flock of boys had no
sooner got into the Corso than they began to throw balls of that watery
snow which makes missiles as solid and heavy as stones. Many persons
were passing along the sidewalks. A gentleman called out, "Stop that,
you little rascals!" and just at that moment a sharp cry rose from
another part of the street, and we saw an old man who had lost his hat
and was staggering about, covering his face with his hands, and beside
him a boy who was shouting, "Help! help!"

People instantly ran from all directions. He had been struck in the eye
with a ball. All the boys dispersed, fleeing like arrows. I was standing
in front of the bookseller's shop, into which my father had gone, and I
saw several of my companions approaching at a run, mingling with others
near me, and pretending to be engaged in staring at the windows: there
was Garrone, with his penny roll in his pocket, as usual; Coretti, the
little mason; and Garoffi, the boy with the postage-stamps. In the
meantime a crowd had formed around the old man, and a policeman and
others were running to and fro, threatening and demanding: "Who was it?
Who did it? Was it you? Tell me who did it!" and they looked at the
boys' hands to see whether they were wet with snow.

Garoffi was standing beside me. I perceived that he was trembling all
over, and that his face was as white as that of a corpse. "Who was it?
Who did it?" the crowd continued to cry.

Then I overheard Garrone say in a low voice to Garoffi, "Come, go and
present yourself; it would be cowardly to allow any one else to be
arrested."

"But I did not do it on purpose," replied Garoffi, trembling like a
leaf.

"No matter; do your duty," repeated Garrone.

"But I have not the courage."

"Take courage, then; I will accompany you."

And the policeman and the other people were crying more loudly than
ever: "Who was it? Who did it? One of his glasses has been driven into
his eye! He has been blinded! The ruffians!"

I thought that Garoffi would fall to the earth. "Come," said Garrone,
resolutely, "I will defend you;" and grasping him b