A PILGRIMAGE By H. REID THE WHOLE range of the Chianti Hills lies between Elena's home and mine. By airplane some day we may wing our way across in ten minutes; by motor car it is a matter of...
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" THE BRIDAL By H. REID THE MORNING was still grey an hour ago as I faced the steep road to the convent. Down in the valley the city was veiled in a thin mist. Across the flat a lingering...
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352 ROGATIONS AT SAN MICHELE By H. REID WHEN Don Filippo entered his little church of San Michele at six o'clock in the morning on Ascension Day, he saw at the first glance that the silver...
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DEATH has come, at last, to the archbishop. Those that cared for him most are glad, and he, I am sure, gladdest of all; for it has been a long dying. He was a splendid man in his good days, his...
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