Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - XXVIII. The Bird Sanctuary
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expectations, the man recovered.—Miracolo!
Miracolo!
The mountain of Barbarossa is now a bird
sanctuary. Thousands of tired birds of passage
are resting on its slopes every spring and autumn,
safe from man and beast. The dogs of San
Michele are forbidden to bark while the birds are
resting on the mountain. The cats are never let
out of the kitchen except with a little alarm-bell
tied round their necks, Billy the vagabond is shut
up in the monkey-house, one never knows what a
monkey or a school-boy is up to.
So far I have never said a word to belittle the
last miracle of Sant’Antonio which at a low
estimate saved for many years the lives of at least
fifteen thousand birds a year. But when all is
over for me, I mean just to whisper to the nearest
angel that with all due respect to Sant’Antonio,
it was I and not he who tapped the pus out of
the butcher’s left pleura and to implore the angel
to put in a kind word for me if nobody else will.
I am sure Almighty God loves the birds or He
would not have given them the same pair of
wings as He has given to His own angels.
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