Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 269, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 November 1912 — Page 2

The Corrector of Destinies

Being Tales of Randolph Mason as Related by His Private Secretary, Courtland Parks The Virgin of the Mountain

v On any Sunday evening of last year one could have seen the Marquis Mazaccra dining at the Dresden, on Fifth avenue. The observer may not have known this remarkable man nor anything of his history, but he would instantly have noticed his fine, sinewy figure, and his features, clean-cut and regular like those of an Italian bronze. _ , . - .. I; ■■ It is well to remember that every country maintains a kingdom lying within the boundaries of this republic. Ido not mean the fiction of sovereignty attaching to the legations at Washington, but a phantom state rather, keeping the customs, the traditions, even the very laws, of the mother country. It was only in this kingdom of Italy that Signore Mazaccra was a marquis. Uptown in New York, he was merely a star of heavy opera, one Ricardo Robini, with a voice like that of many sirens, and yet the man, plying this emasculated trade, was In fact a ruthless, calculating, steelnerved sentinel, presenting himself, thus singing, in the world’s most public places, and reporting each night to that phantom kingdom of Italy, set down like a well-fitting shadow over the streets and buildings of New York. The Marquis Mazaccra lived openly, lodged in a suite at the Dresden. And yet for weeks the district attorney of New York had known that this man ought to be in the electric chair; his assistants knew it, the police officers of tte city knew it. On a memorandum in a pigeonhole of the district attorney’s desk he was written down as guilty of murder in the first degree—-willful, premeditated murder. Th'e district attorney neglected, nay, it should be written, refused, to apprdhend him on a criminal warrant. Let us not too hastily denounce this district attorney of New York. He was an incorruptible public servant, able, persistent, fearless. Why, then, this immunity to the Marquis Mazaccra, as of one heaven born, amenable to no, law? Why was he not sent promptly to the electric chair, and after to dimmer audiences? To know this it is necessary to know first a chapter of Italian history. If, when one is dropping his copper tribute into the dish of the collector at Sorrento, he will look to his left hand along the Bay of Naples, he will observe, a villa built of ancient Sicilian marble clinging like a bit of Hungup sea. foam to a little promontory of the shore, having for background a lemon grove, the thick branches supported by a lath trellis, like that commonly built for vines. —- When the singing marquis came Into his inheritance there remained only this villa, the half-acre of lemon’ grove and the steps to the sea, out of what was once the finest estate in Salerno. Even the treasures of the villa had, for the most part, gone elsewhere in exchange for lira, that the dissolute father of the marquis teight maintain to the last day his midnight court of revels for the ballet of the Neapolitan opera, coming up the stone stairway, laughing, shouting, singing bits of dissolute songs,' as though escaped by some enchantment from the halls of Morgana the Fay, under the sea. One night, crowned with a wreath of wilted roses, brought by the first arrivals from their dancing floor, the old marquis, running forward to welcome Lauretta Matteo —the white devil of Naples—stumbled, and was himself welcomed by the master of all devils. The young marquis, arriving swiftly from a military school at Milan, found himßelf to have inherited a corpse, and little else. Every item of his inheritance had gone down the stone stairway, except this patch of garden, this house, this dead body of the marquis and an ancient painting of the Virgin hanging in its heavy frame in the hall. This painting the old marquis had not dared to sell, having a care for the welfare of his body Into the bargain. It was painted from some round-faced Tuscan model of middle age and was wholly without beauty except its coloring, which was wonderfully fresh and bright. Nevertheless, it was the most adored Virgin In the south of Europe, with a miracle to Its credit beyond that of any Virgin of the cathedrals —not a mere straightening of legs or a healing of afflicted infants, but the saving of the whole village of Torre del Greco, its meadows, its crops, its villas, its churches, its gardens, as well, also, as Its cripples and its babies. The manner of it was that on a certain good Tuesday, with scarce a rumble of warning, Vesuvius began to pour .forth, ashes, sulphurous fumes and lava. The alarmed but pious people of Torre del Greco began at once to carry in procession every holy relic to be found in any of the churches, but without effect The sulphurous cloud remained, the ashes oontlnued to fall, the black, viscous streams of lava drew always a little nearer, scarifying the meadows like hell-vomit. When the list of these holy objects had been exhausted, a certain padre of Sorrento remembered the Virgin of the Marquis Mazaccra, and went Instantly In a boat to bor-

By Melville Davisson Post

row it. It was carried through the streets of Torre dfel 'Greco behind lighted candles. That night the eruption of Vesuvius ceased, and the marquis’s Virgin was on the instant famous. She was called now the Virgin of the Mountain. There is this virtue in a miracle, that one does not have to repeat it, like a clown’s trick, to keep one’s reputation shining. The Virgin of the Mountain continued the patron of Torre del Greco. Twice a year, in May and in October, the painting was borrowed of the marquis and carried in procession through Torre del Greco. It was May and but seven days before the festival of Torre del Greco» when the old voluptuary of Sorrento fared forth so swiftly with a guest he had not invited. The new ( marquis was scarcely warm In his bare house and the old one cold in his before the procession of boats, each with its comfortable priest, came to the stone steps and bore away the Virgin of the Mountain to her semi-annual worshiping. An American tourist chose that morning to ascend Vesuvius. Passing through Torre del Greco, he was met by the procession of the Virgin, and his driver was ordered by the priests to pull up by the roadside until the holy ceremony was ended. The tourist, standing up on his carriage seat, observed that the procession Whs not likely to pass within any reasonable time, and as the ceremony was in no wise holy to him, a fact which he stated clearly enough in his own language, he ordered his driver to go on. The driver declined, having, like the old marquis, an eye to the welfare of his soul, whereupon the tourist, not caring a whit for hiß soul, caught up the lines and drove into the procession, A crowd of women with their hair streaming down their backs were passing at that moment. These promptly seized the horses, cut the traces of the harness, pulled the linch-pins out of the axles, aiyl trundled the carriage Into the gutter. They then, in a variety of ways, explained to the tourist the esteem In which they held him. He, likewise, gave his views no less picturesquely, finally declaring that he would buy the confounded Virgin as soon as he got down from Vesuvius, and hang her up in a Carnegie library—a threat at that moment lost on the un-Englished peasants of Torre del Greco, but otherwise an expression fated, like an oracle. It was not lost, however, on the guide who sat beside him, but accurately remembered and accurately repeated In reply to innumerable queries. One does not know what hand the long-baffled mountain took in the business. At any rate, the following morning the American called on the new marquis and asked him to name a price for his picture. The young man declined. The American offered a thousand lira, then ten, finally twenty. The marquis still declined, and the American in disgust returned to Naples. The young marquis locked up his house and went to the Inn at Sorrento for his dinner. This hostelry is maintained by the pleasantest thief In Italy. Over his wine the marquis had the incident of the procession related with endless comment; so many gesticulating witnesses came forward to be heard that the marquis was compelled to remain the night under the roof of this pleasantest thief. When he returned at sunrise and opened the door of the villa with its iron key, he found the Virgin of the Mountain vanished; the canvas had been cut out of the frame. The man, overwhelmed with this tremendous disaster, sat down on a bench in his hall, covered his face with his hands and abandoned himself to despair, forgetful of the open door and the sun now shining through it. He was aroused by a voice offering him the salutation of the morning and the benediction of God. He looked up to see the padre of Sorrento standing in the door. The old man had come early, tramping down the mountain through the wet lemon groves, to "warn the young marquis against that devil’s threat of the American and to bring peace to his house. .The young marquis took one of his hands from over his face and pointed to the empty frame hanging on the wall. The padre, following his finger, groaned like one struck with a mortal agony and backed slowly out of the door. Then, livid, quivering, his teeth rattling like castanets, he cursed the new Marquis Mazaccra with hideous, excoriating curses. “Thou who hast sold, like Judas, not Christ, bnt the Mother of Christ!” The boy leaped up like one prodded with a hot spit. "No, no, padre!" he cried, “I have not sold It. It was stolen. See, It was cut from the frame. I have not sold it!” The old man pointed a long, shaking finger over the threshold. "Thou art a liar,” he said, "like thy master, who is the father of liars.” Then he gathered his skirts closely about his legs, shook the dust from his feet and went swiftly down the steps. The boy Instantly saw ths hellstorm that would descend on him when the padre got back to his people with the news.

He gathered quickly what he could carry tied up in a cloth and fled to Naples. A steamer was just going out of the harbor for America. He went abroad, took his place in the steerage with the emigrants and came to New York. Here he repaired directly to those in authority over the phantom kingdom of Italy and laid the entire matter before them. In this new kingdom, as in the old one, he was the Marquis Mazaccra ‘and a person of peculiar distinction. Moreover, here his story was believed. The new kingdom of Italy decided for the marquis and went Into secret counsel on his case. The young man had a plan of his own. He knew the face of the American who had come to buy the Virgin of the Mountain, and he had, also, the finest voice in the military school at Milan. Why not, then, get a place in grand opera, if it could be managed. There could be no better station for a sentinel posted to find a millionaire than that. Sooner or later the man would come In with such audiences If he were living. The matter was easily managed through Filippo Marchesi, himself an Italian born in Amalfi. In the Marquis Mazaccra’s throat was a voice descended from the stars. He gained swiftly everything to be had over a footlight. Within five years he was richer than any other marquis born in the villa at Sorrento. More northern and colder blood would doubtless, after thise years, have given up the Virgin of the Mountain, and gone about enjoyment of its much goods, like that certain rich man. But not so this blood, brewed in its sun-vat by the Mediterranean. All this was related In minutest detail by the servant Pietro to Randolph Mason. The occasion for it was the finding of the Virgin of the Mountain. Not by the Marquis Mazaccra nor the host of Italian servants in New York, all commissioned by the authority on the East side to search, but by accident. An Italian paper hanger, sent to help with the Interior decoration of a house on East Fortyeighth street, had discovered the painting rolled up in a closet of a room on the second floor whose door he had opened to find a place for his paste pots. The house belonged to Tolman Perkins, a retired iron manufacturer. This man, like all those who, having got a fortune by middle life and having come to New York to enjoy it, had found Inactivity unbearable, and had gone wandering over the earth. He was about to return from a three years’ sauntering through the Japanese east, and the caretakers were getting the house in order for him.

The fame of Randolph Mason had been carried by Pietro into the kingdom of New Italy. The authority there wished to know how the picture might be recovered and adequate vengeance visited on Tolman Perkins. Pietro laid the matter before Randolph Mason one night after dinner. Randolph Mason bade Pietro sit down in a chair before him, and he explained with great patience the avenues of redresu. A suit could be instituted in the circuit court of the United States by this Mazaccra, a subject of King Victor Emanuel the Third of Italy, against Tolman Perkins, to secure the painting and adequate damages. The picture could be taken, meanwhile into the custody of the court by a proper writ. This was the direct legal plan available In such a case, and to be advised. If this authority on the East side preferred not to go with such a matter into the courts, then he would give it a plan by which the matter could be adjusted without the running of any risk. But first, Pietro should go back to New Italy, state exactly what Randolph Mason had said, and learn which of the two plans the authority there preferred to follow. But, in the meantime, the Marquis Mazaccra had elected to follow his own plan. Taking the place of the Italian paper hanger who had found' the picture of the Virgin of the Mountain, and disguised as that workman, he went on the day following the discovery to the house on Forty-eighth street and brought the painting away with him inclosed in a roll of burlap. Pietro reported to Randolph Mason that the stolen picture hag been thus recovered and that the authority of New Italy now considered the matter ended. The Marquis Mazaccra, however, did not consider it thus ended. The score with Tolman Perkins remained yet to be settled. The Latin mind was not accustomed to the idea of punitive damages at law for an injury. On a certain Sunday morning, a few days after the recovery of the picture of the Virgin of the Mountain, New York was astonished by a homicide belonging, in its deliberate, cruel and theatric details, to some inquisitorial era. Mr. Tolman Perkins, a bachelor, was found ,by his valet at seven o'clock on this Sunday morning, in the library of his house on Forty-eighth street In a dying condition. Mr. Perkins, insensible from loss of blood, waa taken immediately to a hospital and a saline solution injected into his veins. He revived a little and attempted to talk, but was unable to do so. A pencil was put into his fingers and he was asked to write the name of the person who had attacked him? Finally, after repeated efforts, he wrote the following words: “It waß that Italian, the Marquis Mazaccra, who did it When I get well I will kill him.” He died at three o’clock. But the curtain was not yet rang down on the tragedy. I happened to be with Randolph Ma-

son at about firs o'clock when, through the window, I noticed Pietro enter the back gate of the honse with an Italian fruit vender. "Oh, Mr. Mason,” he said, "a terrible thing has happened! The Marquis Mazaccra is lost!” Then, hurriedly, gesticulating with hjs hands and shoulders, he poured Jorth the wh<&e story: How t a wax Impression of the lock on the Fortyeighth street house had been taken for the Marqnis Mazaccra after the picture of the Virgin had been brought away, and a key made; how with this key the marquis had admitted himself to the presence of Tolman Perkins In his library, seized him from behind as he sat reading by his table, and visited upon him this ghastly ordeal of retributive justice; how Tolman Perkins, contrary to every human possibility, by reason of a bloodclot forming in the wound, had lived long enough to tell who had killed him. The Italian janitor at the hospital had made a copy of his dying statement; the Marquis Mazaccra was Instantly notified, and by the direction of that authority on the East side, of whom I have spoken, had come instantly, disguised thus, to Randolph Mason. He was there by the door. “Let me see this statement,” said Mason. Pietro handed him a piece of wrapping paper containing these lines In pencil: “It was that Italian, the Marquis Mazaccra, who did it. When I get well I will kill him.” "You will at once,” said Mason to the marquis, “abandon this absurd disguise, and immediately return to your usual life at the Dresden, conducting yourself there as though nothing unusual had happened. Refuse to be interviewed. If you are fortunate enough to he arrested, decline to make any statement whatever and send immediately for me.” "Sir,” he said, “I never in my life have been accustomed to take directions from any man; but since I have come to you for directions, I shall Implicitly obey them.” Then he picked up his basket from the floor and went out of the room, followed by Pietro. From the great newspapers of America nothing can be hidden; neither a flight on the wings of the morning nor a dwelling in the uttermost parts of the sea provides adequate cover. On Monday morning the whole story of Tolman Perkins’ killing was laid in detail before the world under headlines inquiring who the Marquis Mazaccra was. Friday, Saturday, a week passed, and the Marquis Mazaccra was not yet taken into custody. The people, waxing vitriolic, began now to speculate; conjecture to wag its double-pointed tongue. In the mean time the district attorney remained as silent as the unmolested, singing marquis. However, ten days after the death of Tolman Perkins, the district attorney did act. He caused the valet to be arrested. When I told Randolph Mason of this his eyes narrowed and his under jaw moved resolutely forward. "Parks," he said, "I am coming to have an Interest in this district attorney. Let us visit him.” Then he summoned the marquis from the Dresden, and three of us went in a carriage to the Criminal Court building. We were brought almost Immediately Into the presence of the district attorney. - “Sir,” said Randolph Mason, “permit me to present to you the Marquis Mazaccra.”

For a moment there was an expression of the keenest inquiry In the steady eyes of the lawyer, then he arose and bowed courteously. “May I inquire,” he said, “why I am thus strikingly honored?” I saw instantly that no fears cudgeled this unusual man. “You have caused an innocent man to be arrested for the killing of Tolman Perkins,” said Mason; “we came to say that” "How do you know that he is innocent?” said the lawyer. “I know it,” replied Mason, "in precisely the same manner that you, yourself, know it, and with the same conviction.” “I would prefer,” said the district attorney, “to hear the Marquis Mazaccra upon that point." “With pleasure,” replied the Italian. "The valet did not kill Tolman Perkins.” “Who did kill him?” said the lawyer Instantly. “Pardon me,” replied the marqnis; "is net that query a trifle beside the point?" "Suppose,” said the district attorney, slowly, “I should cause you to be detained as a witness In this matter!" "Sir," said Mason, “it would be an act of the purest idiocy. He would decline to answer, on the ground that such an answer would tend to Incriminate him, and so be immediately dis-i charged. You must, my dear air, be content with the word of the marquis as a gentleman.” “Why not, rather,” said the district attorney, speaking even more slowly, “arrest the Marquis Mazaccra for this murder?” - “Indeed why ntft?” replied Mason. “Yon are quite convinced that he is guilty of it.” “Do you admit it, then?” said the lawyer. “Pardon me,” said Mason, ‘1 am his counsel and shall always formally depy it” _ • _ “Gentlemen,” said the district attorney, “this interview is preposterous.” “At any rate,” replied Mason, “it is ended. Good morning.” Then he turned abruptly and walked ont of the room. The marquis bowed to the district attorney and followed Mason, while I came at their heels.

On the following morning the storm of public condemnation doubled around the head of the district attor ney of New York. The story of the mysterious visit of the Marquis Mazaccra and his counsel to the Criminal Court building was elaborately published. The members of the party opposed In politics to the district attorney denounced him with savage comment. If he was afraid to prosecute the Italian Robini, it would find an attorney who was not afraid. It then named a certain lawyer in politics, one Theodore Fagan, a person of large municipal influence and considerable prominence, a man of no profound legal learning and of little legitimate practice, nevertheless a person of ambitions and unfailing assurance. This party demanded that Fagan should be sworn in as an assistant district attorney and the prosecution of the Marquis Mazaccra put entirely into his hands. Contrary to every expectation, the district- attorney of New York instantly assented to this proposition, without a word of explanation or comment. Fagan, fortified by his tremendous assurance, began at once to carry his mob directions into effect. Immediately after he was clothed with the authority of an assistant district attorney, he caused the Italian marquis to be arrested. Within a week of the date of the arrest, the Marquis Mazaccra, alias Ricardo Robini, was indicted for the murder of Tolman Perkins. His case was advanced on the docket, a jury was Impaneled, and the man placed on trial for his life. The valet, released and sitting in the court room, was the chief witness for the people. Randolph Mason appeared as counsel for the prisoner, but his conduct of the defense was so acquiescent that Fagan’s friends facetiously named him the co-counsel for the people. Finally, having at great length established the death of Tolman Perkins and its circumstances, Mr. Fagan arose. He stepped dramatically before his table, threw back his shoulders, and caught up the third button of his coat. j “If your honor please,” he said, “I have reason to believe that the prisoner is relying for his defense upon our inability to Identify him as the Marquis Mazaccra. I have therefore called a number of Italian witnesses. Will your honor direct the interpreter to be sworn?” Then he whirled about triumphantly into his chair like one who has gloriously spiked the only cannon of his enemy. The reporters at the table paused a moment with their pencils suspended above their notebooks. Thig, then, was the solution of Mason’s indifference. If the prisoner could not be identified as the Marquis Mazaccra, he could not, of course, be convicted. This was a vital point—the savage battle for the prisoner’s life would begin now. They waited, fingers tightening on pencils, for the report of the opening gun. Every glance In the court room winged to Randolph Mason. It was an Instant of peculiar dramatic stress. Then it puffed out “Your honor,” said Mason, "we admit the Identity of the Marquis Mazaccra.” The joy of Mr. Fagan could ont be concealed; it sat glowing on his face as he got once more to his feet. The only gap in his evidence had been bridged for him. The road to the conviction of his prisoner lay now unbroken before him ill the sun. “If your honor please,” he said, “I have proved the incidents of the murder, the death of the victim, and the circumstances attendant on the dying declaration of the deceased. I wish now to introduce that declaration, to connect the prisoner with this killing. The identity of this prisoner with the Marquis Mazaccra having been now admitted, I take it that the people have made their case." Then, posing on one foot, and raising his voice until it carried to the bailiffs at the door, he read the original statement of Tolman Perkins: . ‘“lt was that Italian, the Marquis Mazaccra, who did it When I get well, I wiU kill him.’ ” If any one had been at that moment observing closely the face of the presiding judge, he would have noticed a curious transition there, as of lights swiftly changed behind the Immobile features. The judge was an able and conservative trier of causes, and made It a point never to read any notices of a crime, nor to be advised in any manner of public opinion, nor of any comment antedating the trial of the prisoner. He thus got his knowledge of the case solely from the evidence produced before him on the trial. “May I Inquire, Mr. Fagan,” he said, “If you have any evidence further than this declaration to offer for the people?” "No, your honor," replied the lawyer. “This seems quite enough to establish the guilt of the prisoner. The people rest with it." The judge looked down at Randolph Mason. “Has counsel for the prisoner anything to say on the admissibility of this evidence?" “No," replied Mason, rising; “I object merely to its introduction, and move the court to direct a verdict of not guilty. We have no evidence to offer." Mr. Theodore Fagan arose then, buttoned his frock coat, thrust his right hand into its breast, and delivered an oration on a homicide. When Mr. Fagan returned finally, steaming, to his chair, the judge arose and addressed the Jury. “Gentlemen,” he said, “there Is no more difficult duty than that of passing upon the guilt or innocence of one charged with a crime; therefore the law, out of an Interminable experience, has laid down certain definite

rules by which courts ars to be governed in the exercise of that duty. These rules are said to be the very refinement of reason. They at least Insure a certain order and a certain uniformity of result not otherwise attainable. They are rigid, accurately determined and binding alike on all courts of justice. It is certain that now and then the observance of these permits a guilty man to escape punishment. But, in the mean time, they are the safeguards of persons unjustly accused and preserve the innocent from passion, prejudice or a public preconception of guilt. “In the case before you, evidence has established the violent death of a citizen, and the circumstances atr tendant on it; in fact, the perpetration of the highest crime under that of treason. If, In addition thereto, proper evidence should be presented tending to connect the prisoner with that killing, you would haVe the right, under the law, to say whether he is guilty or hot guilty of the crime. The assistant district attorney offered the statement .of the deceased, naming the Marquis Mazaccra. The identity of that person with the accused is admitted. This is the only testimony offered on that point. If it is admissible and proper, the guilt or innocence of the accused will remain with you to be determined. If not, it becomes my duty to take the case out of your hands and direct an acquittal. “As a general rule of law, one speaking against an accused must first be sworn, and an opportunity given for his cross-examination, before his statement can be heard as evidence ; but there is an exception made in that certain class of evidence commonly named dying declarations, that is, statements germane to the issue made by one about to die. Here the law assumes that a man in the immediate presence of death will not probably lie; and his statement is admissible as evidence, with the usual presumption of truth In Its favor. But, it must affirmatively and conclusively appear that the deceased, at the time of making such a declaration, believed himself about to die, had, In fact, abandoned all hope of life. If he entertained any hope of recovery, or any doubt of death, his statement Is not admissible as evidence. It is not material that he did In fact die, even with the words of the declaration on his lips, if he did not believe death impending. ' “This is the rule. Let us now apply it to the declaration of Tolman Perkins: ‘lt was that Italian, the Marquis Mabaccra, who did It. When I get well I will kill him.’ Did the decedent believe that he was about to die when he made this statement? Had he abandoned hope of life? Clearly not. His statement Itself will establish the contrary beyond a doubt.- ‘When I get well I will kill him.’ Here Is more than a hope of life. Here is a threat of retribution, based on a conviction of recovery. This statement of the decedent is, therefore, not an admissible dying declaration. It cannot be introduced as evidence. It is a worthless recital, before the law. “Now, gentlemen of the jury, there is no evidence whatever, other than this inadmissible statement, tending to connect the accused with this homicide. - I shall, therefore, sustain the motion made by counsel for the accused. You are directed to find a verdict of ‘not guilty.’ And the Marquis Mazaccra, alias Ricardo Robini, Is discharged.” The following morning the district attorney of New York had his triumph. His statement to the electorate of the city marked the greatness of the man; it was dignified, concise and without exultation. Being aware that the statement of Tolman Perkins was not admissible as evidence, and that the Italian would be acquitted if seized and tried, his plan waß to set the police machinery at work on the case in the hope of finding some evidence connecting the accused with the crime. Finally, when the great wave of public opinion descended on him, he determined to yield to Its wishes and thereby give the people an object lesson, an example of the danger of public clamor when directed against the administration of the law. He looked upon the result as a thing not to be deplored, rather as a public good, tending to strengthen the confidence of the people In the integrity of Its public servants. It was now clear to me why Randolph Mason had tried to goad the district attorney into a trial. There was danger in delay, something might be discovered; but a trial upon the evidence In the possession of the people must result In acquittal, and, If the man was once acquitted, he could not again be tried, no matter what afterevidence was discovered. The Marquis Mazaccra. saw It all, too; but he made no fulsome offer of thanks to Randolph Mason In the court room. He maintained there his bearing of an aristocrat, the air of a man lightly Indifferent to sun or shadow. Later, on his way to an Italian steamer, he cams in for a moment. “Hr. Mason,” he said, “I wish to thank you for my life.” “Sir,” said Mason, "I had no Interest in your life. The adjustment of your problem was the only thing of interest tome.” - I have not been lately in Italy, but I am told that if one will doable the copper coins dropped into the dish at the collector st Sorrento, he will be rowed along the bay to the villa of the Marquis Mazaccra, and. If he increase this wage to a lira, he will be shown the Virgin of the Mountain.

For the legal principle involved In this story see Greenloaf, or any textbook on evidence.