the fact of its being a gift from me. When, however, I got home, casting up my accounts and looking over my cash and bills, I found, that, in a country where, from the want of communication, distance is infinitely magnified, I should perhaps place myself in a strait, if I attempted to make amends for the dishonesty of a rogue by an act of mere good nature.
The subsequent issue of this affair may as well be here introduced.
I set off from Palermo, and never came back to it; but notwithstanding the great distance of my Sicilian and Italian travels, my soul never lost the impression which the interview with this family had left upon it.
I returned to my native land; and the letter of the old widow, turning up among the many other papers which had come with it from Naples by sea, gave me occasion to speak of this and other adventures.
Below is a translation of this letter, in which I have purposely allowed the peculiarities of the original to appear.
"On the 16th April, 1787, 1 received tidings of you through Mr. Wilton, and I cannot express to you how consoling it was to me; for ever since you removed from France I have been unable to hear any tidings of you.
"My dear son, I entreat you not to forget me, for I am very poor, and deserted by all my relations but my daughter, and your sister Maria Giovanna, in whose house I am living. She cannot afford to supply all my wants, but she does what she can. She is a widow, with three children: one daughter is in the nunnery of St. Catherine, the other two children are at home with her.
"I repeat, my dear son, my entreaty. Send me just enough to provide for my necessities; for I have not even the necessary articles of clothing to discharge the duties of a Catholic, for my mantle and outer garments are perfectly in rags.
"If you send me anything, or even write me merely a letter, do not send by post, but by sea; for Don Mattéo, my brother (Bracconeri), is the postmaster.
