Having closed his narrative, the fellow began to sell it in printed form--little pamphlets with a rude illustration on the cover.

I bought the thing for a soldo, and read it as I walked away.
A few days ago--thus, after a pious exordium, the relation began--in that part of Italy called Marca, there came into a railway station a Capuchin friar of grave, thoughtful, melancholy aspect, who besought the station-master to allow him to go without ticket by the train just starting, as he greatly desired to reach the Sanctuary of Loreto that day, and had no money to pay his fare The official gave a contemptuous refusal, and paid no heed to the entreaties of the friar, who urged all manner of religious motives for the granting of his request.

The two engines on the train (which was a very long one) seemed about to steam away--but, behold, _con grande stupore di tutti_, the waggons moved not at all! Presently a third engine was put on, but still all efforts to start the train proved useless.

Alone of the people who viewed this inexplicable event, the friar showed no astonishment; he remarked calmly, that so long as he was refused permission to travel by it, the train would not stir.

At length _un ricco signore_ found a way out of the difficulty by purchasing the friar a third-class ticket; with a grave reproof to the station-master, the friar took his seat, and the train went its way.
But the matter, of course, did not end here.