seek work in France, had returned to Italy, and had landed a few days before at Naples, where, having fallen suddenly ill, he had hardly time to write a line to announce his arrival to his family, and to say that he was going to the hospital. His wife, in despair at this news, and unable to leave home because she had a sick child, and a baby to tend, had sent her eldest son to Naples, with a few soldi, to help his father—his daddy, as they called him. The boy had walked ten miles.
The porter, after glancing at the letter, called a nurse and told him to conduct the lad to his father.
“Whose father?” inquired the nurse.
The boy, trembling with terror, lest he should hear bad news, gave the name.
The nurse did not recall such a name.
“An old laborer, arrived from abroad?” he asked.
“Yes, a laborer,” replied the lad, still more uneasy; “ not so very old. Yes, arrived from abroad.”
“When did he enter the hospital?” asked the nurse.
The lacl glanced at his letter; “Five days ago, I think.”
The nurse stood awhile in thought; then, as though suddenly recalling him; “Ah!” he said, “ the furthest bed in the fourth ward.”
“Is he very ill? How is he?” inquired the boy, anxiously.
The nurse looked at him, without replying. Then he said, “Come with me. ” They ascended two flights of stairs, walked to the end of a long corridor, and found themselves facing the open door of a large hall, wherein two rows of
