Tuesday, 4 April 2017

"Prophetia Sancti Malachiae Archiepiscopi, de Summis Pontificibus" by Uncertain Writer (in Latin and Portuguese)



Papas anteriores à publicação de Lignum Vitae (1595) e cujos nomes aparecem no livro:

Ex caſtro Tiberis.   (Cœleſtinus. II)  
De um castelo do Tibre                                  
Inimicus expulſus.   (Lucius. II)        .
Inimigo expulso                                 
Ex magnitudine mõtis.   (Eugenius III)
Fora da grandeza da montanha          
Abbas Suburranus.   (Anaſtaſius. III)          .
Abade Suburran                                 
De rure albo.   (Adrianus. IIII)
Do campo branco                               
Ex tetro carcere.   (Victor IIII)        
Fora de uma prisão repugnante.         
Via Tranſtiberina.   (Calliſtus. III)
Estrada através do Tibre.                               
De Pannonia Thuſciæ.   (Paſchalis. III)       
De Tusculan, Hungria            
Ex anſere cuſtode.   (Alexander. III)            
Fora do ganso guardião.                                
Lux in oſtio.   (Lucius. III)
A luz de entrada                                
Sus in cribro.   (Urbanus. III)
Porco em uma peneira                                    
Enſis Laurentii.   (Gregorius. VIII)  
A espada de São Lourenço.               
De Schola exiet.   (Clemens. III)
Ele virá da escola                               
De rure bouenſi.   (Cœleſtinus. III)  
De país de gado                                 
Comes Signatus.   (Innocentius. III)            
Contagem designada
Canonicus de latere.   (Honorius. III)          
Canon a partir do lado           
Auis Oſtienſis.   (Gregorius. IX)        
Pássaro de Ostia         
Leo Sabinus.   (Cœleſtinus IIII)       
Leão Sabine   
Comes Laurentius.   (Innocentius IIII)       
Conde Lourenço        
Signum Oſtienſe.   (Alexander IIII)   .
Sinal da Óstia
Hieruſalem Campanię.   (Urbanus IIII)
Jerusalém de Champanhe       
Draco depreſſus.   (Clemens IIII)
Dragão pressionado   
Anguinus uir.   (Gregorius. X)         
Sangue do homem     
Concionator Gallus.   (Innocentius. V)
Pregador Francês       
Bonus Comes.   (Adrianus. V)
Conde Bom    
Piſcator Thuſcus.   (Ioannes. XXI)
Pescador Toscano      
Roſa compoſita.   (Nicolaus III)
Composto Rosa          
Ex teloneo liliacei Martini.   (Martinus IIII)            
Do pedágio liriado de Martin
Ex roſa leonina.   (Honorius IIII)     
Da Rosa Leonina       
Picus inter eſcas.   (Nicolaus IIII)
Pica-pau entre alimentos        
Ex eremo celſus.   (Cœleſtinus V)
Levantou do deserto.
Ex undarũ bn̑dictione.   (Bonifacius VIII)
Da bênção das ondas
Concionator patereus. [sic]   (Benedictus XI)
Pregador de Patara     
De feſſis aquitanicis.    (Clemens V)
Dos infortúnios/faixas da Aquitânia  
De ſutore oſſeo.   (Ioannes XXII)
De um sapateiro magro          
Coruus ſchiſmaticus.   (Nicolaus V, antipapa)
Corvo cismático         
Frigidus Abbas.   (Benedictus XII)
Abade frio      
De roſa Attrebatenſi.   (Clemens VI)
Da rosa de Arras        
De mõtibus Pãmachii.   (Innocentius VI)    
Das montanhas do Pamáquio                         
Gallus Vicecomes.   (Urbanus V)
Visconde Francês
Nouus de uirgine forti.   (Gregorius XI)
Novo homem da virgem forte            
Decruce Apoſtolica. [sic]   (Clemens VII)
Da cruz apostólica      
Luna Coſmedina.   (Benedictus XIII)
Lua Cosmedina.         
Schiſma Barchinoniũ.   (Clemens VIII)
Cisma dos Barcelonas            
De inferno prægnãti.   (Urbanus VI)
De um inferno grávido.          
Cubus de mixtione.   (Bonifacius IX)
Cubo de uma mistura.            
De meliore ſydere.   (Innocentius VII)
De uma estrela melhor           
Nauta de ponte nigro.   (Gregorius XII)
Marinheiro de uma ponte negra.        
Flagellum ſolis.   (Alexander V)
Chicote do sol.
Ceruus Sirenæ.   (Ioannes XXIII)
Veado da sirene.
Corona ueli aurei.   (Martinus V)
Coroa da cortina de ouro.
Lupa Cœleſtina.   (Eugenius IIII)
Loba Celestial.
Amator Crucis.   (Felix V)
Amante da cruz.
De modicitate Lunæ.   (Nicolaus V)
Da mesquinhez de Luna.
Bos paſcens.               (Calliſtus III)
Alimentação de bovinos.
De Capra & Albergo.   (Pius II)
De uma cabra e uma estalagem.
De Ceruo & Leone.   (Paulus II)
De um veado e leão.
Piſcator minorita.   (Sixtus IIII)
Pescador Minoritas.
Præcurſor Siciliæ.   (Innocentius VIII)
Precursor da Sicília.
Bos Albanus in portu.   (Alexander VI)
Bula de Alba no porto.
De paruo homine.   (Pius III)
De um homem pequeno.
Fructus Iouis iuuabit.   (Iulius II)
O fruto de Júpiter vai ajudar.
De craticula Politiana.   (Leo X)
De uma grelha Poliziana.
Leo Florentius.   (Adrian VI)
Leão de Florença.
Flos pilei ægri.   (Clemens VII)
Flor da pílula do doente.
Hiacinthus medicorũ.   (Paulus III)
Jacinto dos médicos.
De corona montana.   (Iulius III)
Da coroa montanhosa.
Frumentum flocidum. [sic]   (Marcellus II)
Grão insignificante.
De fide Petri.   (Paulus IIII)
Da fé de Pedro.
Eſculapii pharmacum.    (Pius IIII)
Medicina de Esculápio.
Angelus nemoroſus.   (Pius V)
Anjo do bosque.
Medium corpus pilarũ.   (Gregorius XIII)
Metade do corpo das bolas.
Axis in medietate ſigni.   (Sixtus V)
Eixo no meio de um sinal.      
De rore cœli.   (Urbanus VII)
Do orvalho do céu.
Ex antiquitate Urbis.   (Gregorius XIIII)
Da antiguidade da cidade.     
Pia ciuitas in bello.   (Innocentius IX)          
Piedosa cidade em guerra.
Crux Romulea.   (Clemens VIII)     
Cruz de Rômulo.        


Papas posteriores à publicação de Lignum Vitae (1595) e cujos nomes não aparecem no livro:

Undoſus uir.   (Leo XI)
Homem ondulado.                 
Gens peruerſa.   (Paulus V)
Nação corrompida.     
In tribulatione pacis.   (Gregorius XV)
No trabalho de paz     
Lilium et roſa.   (Urbanus VIII)        
Lirio e rosa                 
Iucunditas crucis.   (Innocentius X)
Alegria da cruz.          
Montium cuſtos.   (Alexander VII)
Guarda das montanhas.
Sydus olorum.   (Clemens IX)          
Estrela dos cisnes.
De flumine magno.   (Clemens X)
De um grande rio.
Bellua inſatiabilis.   (Innocentius XI)
Besta insaciável.
Pœnitentia glorioſa.   (Alexander VIII)
Penitência gloriosa.
Raſtrum in porta.   (Innocentius XII)
Ancinho na porta.      
Flores circundati.   (Clemens XI)
Flores rodeadas.
De bona religione.   (Innocentius XIII)
De boa religião.
Miles in bello.   (Benedictus XIII)
Soldado na Guerra.
Columna excelſa.   (Clemens XII)
Coluna elevada.
Animal rurale.   (Benedictus XIIII) 
Animal rural   
Roſa Vmbriæ.   (Clemens XIII)
Rosa da Umbria         
Urſus velox.    (Clemens XIIII)
Urso rápido.
Peregrin9 apoſtolic9.   (Pius VI)
Peregrino apostólico.
Aquila rapax.   (Pius VII)
Águia voraz.
Canis & coluber.   (Leo XII)
Cão e víbora.  
Vir religioſus.   (Pius VIII)   
Homem religioso        
De balneis Ethruriæ.   (Gregorius XVI)
Dos banhos da Toscana         
Crux de cruce.   (Pius IX)    
Cruzar da cruz.
Lumen in cœlo.   (Leo XIII) 
Luz no céu.
Ignis ardens.    (Pius X)        
Fogo ardente.
Religio depopulata.   (Benedictus XIIII)
Religião destruída.
Fides intrepida.   (Pius XI)
Fé intrépida.
Paſtor angelicus.   (Pius XII)
Pastor angélico.
Paſtor & nauta.   (Ioannes. XXIII)
Pastor e marinheiro.
Flos florum.   (Paulus VI)
Flor das flores.
De medietate lunæ.   (Ioannes Paulus I)
Do meio da lua.
De labore ſolis.   (Ioanes Paulus II)   
Do trabalho do sol.    
Gloria oliuæ.   (Benedictus XVI)
Glória da Oliveira.     
In perſecutione extrema S.R.E. ſedebit.   (Franciscus I)
Em extrema perseguição a Sagrada Igreja Romana assentará.          
Petrus Romanus, qui pascet oves in multis tribulatiónibus; quibus transáctis, civitas septicóllis diruétur, et ludex treméndus iudicábit pópulum. Finis.
Pedro, o Romano, que apascentará as ovelhas em meio a muitas tribulações. Passadas estas, será destruída a cidade das sete colinas e o Tremendo Juiz julgará o Seu povo. Fim.

Saturday, 1 April 2017

“Little Match Girl” by Hans Christian Andersen (translated into English)



 Unknown translator.

Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and evening - the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet. When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but what was the good of that? They were very large slippers, which her mother had hitherto worn; so large were they; and the poor little thing lost them as she scuffled away across the street, because of two carriages that rolled by dreadfully fast.
            One slipper was nowhere to be found; the other had been laid hold of by an urchin, and off he ran with it; he thought it would do capitally for a cradle when he some day or other should have children himself. So the little maiden walked on with her tiny naked feet, that were quite red and blue from cold. She carried a quantity of matches in an old apron, and she held a bundle of them in her hand. Nobody had bought anything of her the whole livelong day; no one had given her a single farthing.
            She crept along trembling with cold and hunger - a very picture of sorrow, the poor little thing!
            The flakes of snow covered her long fair hair, which fell in beautiful curls around her neck; but of that, of course, she never once now thought. From all the windows the candles were gleaming, and it smelt so deliciously of roast goose, for you know it was New Year's Eve; yes, of that she thought.
            In a corner formed by two houses, of which one advanced more than the other, she seated herself down and cowered together. Her little feet she had drawn close up to her, but she grew colder and colder, and to go home she did not venture, for she had not sold any matches and could not bring a farthing of money: from her father she would certainly get blows, and at home it was cold too, for above her she had only the roof, through which the wind whistled, even though the largest cracks were stopped up with straw and rags.
            Her little hands were almost numbed with cold. Oh! a match might afford her a world of comfort, if she only dared take a single one out of the bundle, draw it against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. She drew one out. "Rischt!" how it blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm, bright flame, like a candle, as she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light. It seemed really to the little maiden as though she were sitting before a large iron stove, with burnished brass feet and a brass ornament at top. The fire burned with such blessed influence; it warmed so delightfully. The little girl had already stretched out her feet to warm them too; but--the small flame went out, the stove vanished: she had only the remains of the burnt-out match in her hand.
            She rubbed another against the wall: it burned brightly, and where the light fell on the wall, there the wall became transparent like a veil, so that she could see into the room. On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth; upon it was a splendid porcelain service, and the roast goose was steaming famously with its stuffing of apple and dried plums. And what was still more capital to behold was, the goose hopped down from the dish, reeled about on the floor with knife and fork in its breast, till it came up to the poor little girl; when - the match went out and nothing but the thick, cold, damp wall was left behind. She lighted another match. Now there she was sitting under the most magnificent Christmas tree: it was still larger, and more decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door in the rich merchant's house.
            Thousands of lights were burning on the green branches, and gaily-colored pictures, such as she had seen in the shop-windows, looked down upon her. The little maiden stretched out her hands towards them when - the match went out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher, she saw them now as stars in heaven; one fell down and formed a long trail of fire.
            "Someone is just dead!" said the little girl; for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now no more, had told her, that when a star falls, a soul ascends to God.
            She drew another match against the wall: it was again light, and in the lustre there stood the old grandmother, so bright and radiant, so mild, and with such an expression of love.
            "Grandmother!" cried the little one. "Oh, take me with you! You go away when the match burns out; you vanish like the warm stove, like the delicious roast goose, and like the magnificent Christmas tree!" And she rubbed the whole bundle of matches quickly against the wall, for she wanted to be quite sure of keeping her grandmother near her. And the matches gave such a brilliant light that it was brighter than at noon-day: never formerly had the grandmother been so beautiful and so tall. She took the little maiden, on her arm, and both flew in brightness and in joy so high, so very high, and then above was neither cold, nor hunger, nor anxiety - they were with God.
            But in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the poor girl, with rosy cheeks and with a smiling mouth, leaning against the wall - frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. Stiff and stark sat the child there with her matches, of which one bundle had been burnt. "She wanted to warm herself," people said. No one had the slightest suspicion of what beautiful things she had seen; no one even dreamed of the splendor in which, with her grandmother she had entered on the joys of a new year.

Friday, 31 March 2017

"Il canto popolare" by Pier Paolo Pasolini (in Italian)


Improvviso il mille novecento
cinquanta due passa sull'Italia:
solo il popolo ne ha un sentimento
vero: mai tolto al tempo, non l'abbaglia
la modernità, benché sempre il più
moderno sia esso, il popolo, spanto
in borghi, in rioni, con gioventù
sempre nuove - nuove al vecchio canto -
a ripetere ingenuo quello che fu.

Scotta il primo sole dolce dell'anno
sopra i portici delle cittadine
di provincia, sui paesi che sanno
ancora di nevi, sulle appenniniche
greggi: nelle vetrine dei capoluoghi
i nuovi colori delle tele, i nuovi
vestiti come in limpidi roghi
dicono quanto oggi si rinnovi
il mondo, che diverse gioie sfoghi...

Ah, noi che viviamo in una sola
generazione ogni generazione
vissuta qui, in queste terre ora
umiliate, non abbiamo nozione
vera di chi è partecipe alla storia
solo per orale, magica esperienza;
e vive puro, non oltre la memoria
della generazione in cui presenza
della vita è la sua vita perentoria.

Nella vita che è vita perché assunta
nella nostra ragione e costruita
per il nostro passaggio - e ora giunta
a essere altra, oltre il nostro accanito
difenderla - aspetta - cantando supino,
accampato nei nostri quartieri
a lui sconosciuti, e pronto fino
dalle più fresche e inanimate ère -
il popolo: muta in lui l'uomo il destino.

E se ci rivolgiamo a quel passato
ch'è nostro privilegio, altre fiumane
di popolo ecco cantare: recuperato
è il nostro moto fin dalle cristiane
origini, ma resta indietro, immobile,
quel canto. Si ripete uguale.
Nelle sere non più torce ma globi
di luce, e la periferia non pare
altra, non altri i ragazzi nuovi...

Tra gli orti cupi, al pigro solicello
Adalbertos komis kurtis!, i ragazzini
d'Ivrea gridano, e pei valloncelli
di Toscana, con strilli di rondinini:
Hor atorno fratt Helya! La santa
violenza sui rozzi cuori il clero
calca, rozzo, e li asserva a un'infanzia
feroce nel feudo provinciale l'Impero
da Iddio imposto: e il popolo canta.

Un grande concerto di scalpelli
sul Campidoglio, sul nuovo Appennino,
sui Comuni sbiancati dalle Alpi,
suona, giganteggiando il travertino
nel nuovo spazio in cui s'affranca
l'Uomo: e il manovale Dov'andastà
jersera... ripete con l'anima spanta
nel suo gotico mondo. Il mondo schiavitù
resta nel popolo. E il popolo canta.

Apprende il borghese nascente lo Ça ira,
e trepidi nel vento napoleonico,
all'Inno dell'Albero della Libertà,
tremano i nuovi colori delle nazioni.
Ma, cane affamato, difende il bracciante
i suoi padroni, ne canta la ferocia,
Guagliune 'e mala vita! in branchi
feroci. La libertà non ha voce
per il popolo cane. E il popolo canta.

Ragazzo del popolo che canti,
qui a Rebibbia sulla misera riva
dell'Aniene la nuova canzonetta, vanti
è vero, cantando, l'antica, la festiva
leggerezza dei semplici. Ma quale
dura certezza tu sollevi insieme
d'imminente riscossa, in mezzo a ignari
tuguri e grattacieli, allegro seme
in cuore al triste mondo popolare.

Nella tua incoscienza è la coscienza
che in te la storia vuole, questa storia
il cui Uomo non ha più che la violenza
delle memorie, non la libera memoria...
E ormai, forse, altra scelta non ha
che dare alla sua ansia di giustizia
la forza della tua felicità,
e alla luce di un tempo che inizia
la luce di chi è ciò che non sa.

Thursday, 30 March 2017

"O Sanctissima" by Unknown Writer (in Latin and French)

O sanctissima, o piissima,
dulcis Virgo Maria!
Mater amata, intemerata,
ora, ora pro nobis.

Tu solatium et refugium,
Virgo Mater Maria.
Quidquid optamus, per te speramus;
ora, ora pro nobis.

Ecce debiles, perquam flebiles;
salva nos, o Maria!
Tolle languores, sana dolores;
ora, ora pro nobis.

Virgo, respice, Mater, aspice;
audi nos, o Maria!
Tu medicinam portas divinam;
ora, ora pro nobis.


Ô Très Sainte, Ô Très Pieuse
Douce Vierge Marie
Mère ayant été aimée sans tache
Priez, priez pour nous.

Tu es toute belle, ô Marie
Et la faute originelle n'est point en toi
Mère ayant été aimée sans tache
Priez, priez pour nous.

Comme un lis au milieu des épines
Telle est Marie parmi les jeunes filles
Mère ayant été aimée sans tache
Priez, priez pour nous.

En misère et en angoisse
Priez Vierge, pour nous
Pour nous priez à l'heure de notre mort
Priez, priez pour nous.



 "O Sanctissima" sung by Regina Nathan with the Irish Philharmonic Orchestra.

Wednesday, 29 March 2017

“A Horseman in the Sky” by Ambrse Bierce (in English)



One sunny afternoon in the autumn of the year 1861, a soldier lay in a clump of laurel by the side of a road in Western Virginia. He lay at full length, upon his stomach, his feet resting upon the toes, his head upon the left forearm. His extended right hand loosely grasped his rifle. But for the somewhat methodical disposition of his limbs and a slight rhythmic movement of the cartridge-box at the back of his belt, he might have been thought to be dead. He was asleep at his post of duty. But if detected he would be dead shortly afterward, that being the just and legal penalty of his crime.
            The clump of laurel in which the criminal lay was in the angle of a road which, after ascending, southward, a steep acclivity to that point, turned sharply to the west, running along the summit for perhaps one hundred yards. There it turned southward again and went zigzagging downward through the forest. At the salient of that second angle was a large flat rock, jutting out from the ridge to the northward, overlooking the deep valley from which the road ascended. The rock capped a high cliff; a stone dropped from its outer edge would have fallen sheer downward one thousand feet to the tops of the pines. The angle where the soldier lay was on another spur of the same cliff. Had he been awake he would have commanded a view, not only of the short arm of the road and the jutting rock but of the entire profile of the cliff below it. It might well have made him giddy to look.
            The country was wooded everywhere except at the bottom of the valley to the northward, where there was a small natural meadow, through which flowed a stream scarcely visible from the valley's rim. This open ground looked hardly larger than an ordinary door-yard, but was really several acres in extent. Its green was more vivid than that of the enclosing forest. Away beyond it rose a line of giant cliffs similar to those upon which we are supposed to stand in our survey of the savage scene, and through which the road had somehow made its climb to the summit. The configuration of the valley, indeed, was such that from out point of observation it seemed entirely shut in, and one could not but have wondered how the road which found a way out of it had found a way into it, and whence came and whither went the waters of the stream that parted the meadow two thousand feet below.
            No country is so wild and difficult but men will make it a theatre of war; concealed in the forest at the bottom of that military rat-trap, in which half a hundred men in possession of the exits might have starved an army to submission, lay five regiments of Federal infantry. They had marched all the previous day and night and were resting. At nightfall they would take to the road again, climb to the place where their unfaithful sentinel now slept, and, descending the other slope of the ridge, fall upon a camp of the enemy at about midnight. Their hope was to surprise it, for the road led to the rear of it. In case of failure their position would be perilous in the extreme; and fail they surely would should accident or vigilance apprise the enemy of the movement.
            The sleeping sentinel in the clump of laurel was a young Virginian named Carter Druse. He was the son of wealthy parents, an only child, and had known such ease and cultivation and high living as wealth and taste were able to command in the mountain country of Western Virginia. His home was but a few miles from where he now lay. One morning he had risen from the breakfast table and said, quietly and gravely: "Father, a Union regiment has arrived at Grafton. I am going to join it."
            The father lifted his leonine head, looked at the son a moment in silence, and replied: "Go, Carter, and, whatever may occur, do what you conceive to be your duty. Virginia, to which you are a traitor, must get on without you. Should we both live to the end of the war, we will speak further of the matter. Your mother, as the physician has informed you, is in a most critical condition; at the best she cannot be with us longer than a few weeks, but that time is precious. It would be better not to disturb her."
            So Carter Druse, bowing reverently to his father, who returned the salute with a stately courtesy which masked a breaking heart, left the home of his childhood to go soldiering. By conscience and courage, by deeds of devotion and daring, he soon commended himself to his fellows and his officers; and it was to these qualities and to some knowledge of the country that he owed his selection for his present perilous duty at the extreme outpost. Nevertheless, fatigue had been stronger than resolution, and he had fallen asleep. What good or bad angel came in a dream to rouse him from his state of crime who shall say? Without a movement, without a sound, in the profound silence and the languor of the late afternoon, some invisible messenger of fate touched with unsealing finger the eyes of his consciousness--whispered into the ear of his spirit the mysterious awakening word which no human lips have ever spoken, no human memory ever has recalled. He quietly raised his forehead from his arm and looked between the masking stems of the laurels, instinctively closing his right hand about the stock of his rifle.
            His first feeling was a keen artistic delight. On a colossal pedestal, the cliff, motionless at the extreme edge of the capping rock and sharply outlined against the sky, was an equestrian statue of impressive dignity. The figure of the man sat the figure of the horse, straight and soldierly, but with the repose of a Grecian god carved in the marble which limits the suggestion of activity. The grey costume harmonised with its aerial background; the metal of accoutrement and caparison was softened and subdued by the shadow; the animal's skin had no points of high light. A carbine, strikingly foreshortened, lay across the pommel of the saddle, kept in place by the right hand grasping it at the "grip"; the left hand, holding the bridle rein, was invisible. In silhouette against the sky, the profile of the horse was cut with the sharpness of a cameo; it looked across the heights of air to the confronting cliffs beyond. The face of the rider, turned slightly to the left, showed only an outline of temple and beard; he was looking downward to the bottom of the valley. Magnified by its lift against the sky and by the soldier's testifying sense of the formidableness of a near enemy, the group appeared of heroic, almost colossal, size.
            For an instant Druse had a strange, half-defined feeling that he had slept to the end of the war and was looking upon a noble work of art reared upon that commanding eminence to commemorate the deeds of an heroic past of which he had been an inglorious part. The feeling was dispelled by a slight movement of the group; the horse, without moving its feet, had drawn its body slightly backward from the verge; the man remained immobile as before. Broad awake and keenly alive to the significance of the situation, Druse now brought the butt of his rifle against his cheek by cautiously pushing the barrel forward through the bushes, cocked the piece, and, glancing through the sights, covered a vital spot of the horseman's breast. A touch upon the trigger and all would have been well with Carter Druse. At that instant the horseman turned his head and looked in the direction of his concealed foeman--seemed to look into his very face, into his eyes, into his brave compassionate heart.
            Is it, then, so terrible to kill an enemy in war - an enemy who has surprised a secret vital to the safety of oneself and comrades - an enemy more formidable for his knowledge than all his army for its numbers? Carter Druse grew deathly pale; he shook in every limb, turned faint, and saw the statuesque group before him as black figures, rising, falling, moving unsteadily in arcs of circles in a fiery sky. His hand fell away from his weapon, his head slowly dropped until his face rested on the leaves in which he lay. This courageous gentleman and hardy soldier was near swooning from intensity of emotion.
            It was not for long; in another moment his face was raised from earth, his hands resumed their places on the rifle, his forefinger sought the trigger; mind, heart, and eyes were clear, conscience and reason sound. He could not hope to capture that enemy; to alarm him would but send him dashing to his camp with his fatal news. The duty of the soldier was plain: the man must be shot dead from ambush - without warning, without a moment's spiritual preparation, with never so much as an unspoken prayer, he must be sent to his account. But no - there is a hope; he may have discovered nothing - perhaps he is but admiring the sublimity of the landscape. If permitted, he may turn and ride carelessly away in the direction whence he came. Surely it will be possible to judge at the instant of his withdrawing whether he knows. It may well be that his fixity of attention - Druse turned his head and looked below, through the deeps of air downward, as from the surface to the bottom of a translucent sea. He saw creeping across the green meadow a sinuous line of figures of men and horses - some foolish commander was permitting the soldiers of his escort to water their beasts in the open, in plain view from a hundred summits!
            Druse withdrew his eyes from the valley and fixed them again upon the group of man and horse in the sky, and again it was through the sights of his rifle. But this time his aim was at the horse. In his memory, as if they were a divine mandate, rang the words of his father at their parting: "Whatever may occur, do what you conceive to be your duty." He was calm now. His teeth were firmly but not rigidly closed; his nerves were as tranquil as a sleeping babe's - not a tremor affected any muscle of his body; his breathing, until suspended in the act of taking aim, was regular and slow. Duty had conquered; the spirit had said to the body: "Peace, be still." He fired.
            At that moment an officer of the Federal force, who, in a spirit of adventure or in quest of knowledge, had left the hidden bivouac in the valley, and, with aimless feet, had made his way to the lower edge of a small open space near the foot of the cliff, was considering what he had to gain by pushing his exploration farther. At a distance of a quarter-mile before him, but apparently at a stone's-throw, rose from its fringe of pines the gigantic face of rock, towering to so great a height above him that it made him giddy to look up to where its edge cut a sharp, rugged line against the sky. At some distance away to his right it presented a clean, vertical profile against a background of blue sky to a point half of the way down, and of distant hills hardly less blue thence to the tops of the trees at its base. Lifting his eyes to the dizzy altitude of its summit, the officer saw an astonishing sight - a man on horseback riding down into the valley through the air!
            Straight upright sat the rider, in military fashion, with a firm seat in the saddle, a strong clutch upon the rein to hold his charger from too impetuous a plunge. From his bare head his long hair streamed upward, waving like a plume. His right hand was concealed in the cloud of the horse's lifted mane. The animal's body was as level as if every hoof-stroke encountered the resistant earth. Its motions were those of a wild gallop, but even as the officer looked they ceased, with all the legs thrown sharply forward as in the act of alighting from a leap. But this was a flight!
            Filled with amazement and terror by this apparition of a horseman in the sky - half believing himself the chosen scribe of some new Apocalypse, the officer was overcome by the intensity of his emotions; his legs failed him and he fell. Almost at the same instant he heard a crashing sound in the trees - a sound that died without an echo, and all was still.
            The officer rose to his feet, trembling. The familiar sensation of an abraded shin recalled his dazed faculties. Pulling himself together, he ran rapidly obliquely away from the cliff to a point a half-mile from its foot; thereabout he expected to find his man; and thereabout he naturally failed. In the fleeting instant of his vision his imagination had been so wrought upon by the apparent grace and ease and intention of the marvellous performance that it did not occur to him that the line of march of aerial cavalry is directed downward, and that he could find the objects of his search at the very foot of the cliff. A half-hour later he returned to camp.
            This officer was a wise man; he knew better than to tell an incredible truth. He said nothing of what he had seen. But when the commander asked him if in his scout he had learned anything of advantage to the expedition, he answered:
            "Yes, sir; there is no road leading down into this valley from the southward."
            The commander, knowing better, smiled.
            After firing his shot Private Carter Druse reloaded his rifle and resumed his watch. Ten minutes had hardly passed when a Federal sergeant crept cautiously to him on hands and knees. Druse neither turned his head nor looked at him, but lay without motion or sign of recognition.
            "Did you fire?" the sergeant whispered.
            "Yes."
            "At what?"
"A horse. It was standing on yonder rock--pretty far out. You see it is no longer there. It went over the cliff."
            The man's face was white, but he showed no other sign of emotion. Having answered, he turned away his face and said no more. The sergeant did not understand.
            "See here, Druse," he said, after a moment's silence, "it's no use making a mystery. I order you to report. Was there anybody on the horse?"
            "Yes."
            "Who?"
            "My father."
            The sergeant rose to his feet and walked away. "Good God!" he said.