ad in a jacket which
reaches to his knees, who is pale, as though from illness, who always
has a frightened air, and who never laughs; and one with red hair, who
has a useless arm, and wears it suspended from his neck; his father has
gone away to America, and his mother goes about peddling pot-herbs. And
there is another curious type,--my neighbor on the left,--Stardi--small
and thickset, with no neck,--a gruff fellow, who speaks to no one, and
seems not to understand much, but stands attending to the master without
winking, his brow corrugated with wrinkles, and his teeth clenched; and
if he is questioned when the master is speaking, he makes no reply the
first and second times, and the third time he gives a kick: and beside
him there is a bold, cunning face, belonging to a boy named Franti, who
has already been expelled from another district. There are, in addition,
two brothers who are dressed exactly alike, who resemble each other to a
hair, and both of whom wear caps of Calabrian cut, with a peasant's
plume. But handsomer than all the rest, the one who has the most talent,
who will surely be the head this year also, is Derossi; and the master,
who has already perceived this, always questions him. But I like
Precossi, the son of the blacksmith-ironmonger, the one with the long
jacket, who seems sickly. They say that his father beats him; he is very
timid, and every time that he addresses or touches any one, he says,
"Excuse me," and gazes at them with his kind, sad eyes. But Garrone is
the biggest and the nicest.

A GENEROUS DEED.

Wednesday, 26th.

It was this very morning that Garrone let us know what he is like. When
I entered the school a little late, because the mistress of the upper
first had stopped me to inquire at what hour she could find me at home,
the master had not yet arrived, and three or four boys were tormenting
poor Crossi, the one with the red hair, who has a dead arm, and whose
mother sells vegetables. They were poking him with rulers, hitting him
in the face with chestnut shells, and were making him out to be a
cripple and a monster, by mimicking him, with his arm hanging from his
neck. And he, alone on the end of the bench, and quite pale, began to be
affected by it, gazing now at one and now at another with beseeching
eyes, that they might leave him in peace. But the others mocked him
worse than ever, and he began to tremble and to turn crimson with rage.
All at once, Franti, the boy