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Lathrop, Rose Hawthorne, 1851-1926

"Memories of Hawthorne"

If they had been appetizing I should have been sharply
interested in the idea of becoming a Catholic, but their entire
absence of relish convinced me that the Italians lacked mental grasp
and salvation at a single swoop: and this in spite of the fact that
one of my mother's most valued friends, Mrs. Ward, had lately joined
the Church. It was her husband who said of her, "Whatever church has
Anna, has St. Anna!" Perhaps the most exquisite speech ever uttered by
a husband.
Before this serious season of pancakes, which was all Lent was to me
at the time of which I speak, the Carnival had rushed upon my sight,
carrying all our friends through its whirlpool. Every gay cloth,
shawl, and mat that could be brought into service I had rejoiced to
see displayed upon the balconies. A narrow, winding street the Corso
seemed, being so full, and the houses so high; and a merry blue strip
of heaven far away overhead, glancing along the housetops, assured us
space still existed. Sudden descents of flowers upon one's shoulders
and lap in the carriage, from a window or a passer, or a kindly
feeling stranger in another carriage, made one start in mirthful
response. Sudden meetings with dear friends, or friends who seemed
almost dear in the cheerful hurly-burly, became part of the funny
scrimmage. At each side-street sat on a stony standing horse a
beautifully proportioned and equipped guard, in gleaming helmet and
calm demeanor.
To stand or sit at the windows beside the show was an experience full
of pleasure; and if the window was on a level with the heads of the
huddling passers, one could be in all the merriment yet not jostled;
one could easily pick out a pretty woman or a handsome man to whom to
throw a bouquet; and one could see energetic revelers, already well
supplied with flowers, reaching high windows with bouquets by means of
those wooden contrivances which can be extended or contracted at will,
and look like impracticable ladders.


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