THE CONGRESS OF WOMEN.

699

homespun in which these people are clothed is composed of the refuse left from the silk culture, which is washed, carded, spun, dyed and woven at home by the women and made by the village tailors into most comfortable and durable costumes. This material is, alas!being supplanted by cheap factory goods also made up by the tailors, for the peasant women consider that none but men can fashion garments worthy of admiration.

The horses climb up and up through picturesque villages, and past flowering walls and verdant vineyards, orchards and copses. On every side bits of most charming landscape attract the eye studded with villages, and you are in Fruili, the third most populous country in the world, China and Belgium alone having more inhabitants to the square mile.

The carriage spins over a long rough causeway flanked by old acacia trees. At the end stands between massive stone columns a wide open iron gate draped in wysteria and roses, forming a graceful frame to a ruined castle that closes the vista. From its highest tower float the Stars and Stripes and the Tricolor of United Italy, sanctified by the White Cross of Savoy.

We have reached home. A hubbub of sweet feminine voices caresses the ear; down the old terrace steps swarm half a hundred girls led by a gary-haired old hunch­back. They scramble to kiss our hands, they courtesy and murmur “ Servito suo .” They are very neat, with their white aprons and sleeves and bonny kerchiefs. They are the children of the Home Lace School, who learn the new patterns and then teach them in their turn to their one hundred and fifty companions in the neighboring villages. Many of the little ones have been to the public school all the morning, and the big ones come from the fields or stables, for as soon as they can get away they hasten to their lace cushions as to an entertainment, fresh and merry as chattering magpies.

We do not wish them to forget what they have learned at school, and so each girl is compelled to write her own name and address on the piece of lace made by her, as well as its price and the date when finished. They sing while they work, street litanies and lovely part songs, as well as the stirring war choruses of young Italy. They are visited twice a week by a chaplain and school-teacher, who recounts to them anec­dotes about the helpful lives which members of their class have led for others, and tells them of the great charitable organizations and institutions founded through their self-abnegation. Each morning they begin the day by united prayer, and if the priest is not expected one of the stories learned from him is repeated for the amusement of the others. If you asked Italia, our most lovable and industrious lacemaker, she would repeat to you the following in soft and modest accents:

“ One day not so many years ago—alas! I forget the date, but I think it was about 1830—a priest in Sicily entered one of the most squalid houses of his parish just at the hour when the family was about to partake of its mid-day meal. He was politely invited to join, and what was his surprise, after the blessing had been asked, to see each cut off the most delicate part of his portion and place it on a plate in the center of the table. He asked for an explanation of this strange action. The father answered: ‘You see we have no money to spare with which to help our neighbors, but we find that if each of us gives away a good big mouthful of his food, though it costs him nothing, it suffices to remind him of those who have no meals, and the united bits are ample for the nourishment of an old man who comes daily to get what we have saved for him.’ ” The priest marveled at the example of true Christian charity set by this simple household and went away full of the idea that what had been done by one family could be done by many. And at present, owing to his teachings, each day that the sun rises on Sicily six thousand poor people are fed with the mouthfuls of the poor.

Oh my compatriots, you and I grew up with tales of Mafia Camorra and blood­shed poisoning our hearts against the Sicilians, while their poorest were developing this noblest brotherhood which teaches to take the bread from one’s own hungry mouth to feed a poorer neighbor.