CIVIC VALOR.

(_Monthly Story._)

At one o'clock we went with our schoolmaster to the front of the

town-hall, to see the medal for civic valor bestowed on the lad who

saved one of his comrades from the Po.

On the front terrace waved a huge tricolored flag.

We entered the courtyard of the palace.

It was already full of people. At the further end of it there was

visible a table with a red cover, and papers on it, and behind it a row

of gilded chairs for the mayor and the council; the ushers of the

municipality were there, with their under-waistcoats of sky-blue and

their white stockings. To the right of the courtyard a detachment of

policemen, who had a great many medals, was drawn up in line; and beside

them a detachment of custom-house officers; on the other side were the

firemen in festive array; and numerous soldiers not in line, who had

come to look on,--cavalrymen, sharpshooters, artillery-men. Then all

around were gentlemen, country people, and some officers and women and

boys who had assembled. We crowded into a corner where many scholars

from other buildings were already collected with their teachers; and

near us was a group of boys belonging to the common people, between ten

and eighteen years of age, who were talking and laughing loudly; and we

made out that they were all from Borgo Po, comrades or acquaintances of

the boy who was to receive the medal. Above, all the windows were

thronged with the employees of the city government; the balcony of the

library was also filled with people, who pressed against the balustrade;

and in the one on the opposite side, which is over the entrance gate,

stood a crowd of girls from the public schools, and many _Daughters of

military men_, with their pretty blue veils. It looked like a theatre.

All were talking merrily, glancing every now and then at the red table,

to see whether any one had made his appearance. A band of music was

playing softly at the extremity of the portico. The sun beat down on the

lofty walls. It was beautiful.

All at once every one began to clap their hands, from the courtyard,

from the balconies, from the windows.

Cuore (Heart): An Italian Schoolboy's Journal · 第 155 / 199 题