ou know
your lesson?--How much work did they give you?--What have you to do
for to-morrow!--When does the monthly examination come?"

And then even the poor mothers who do not know how to read, open
the copy-books, gaze at the problems, and ask particulars: "Only
eight?--Ten with commendation?--Nine for the lesson?"

And they grow uneasy, and rejoice, and interrogate the masters, and
talk of prospectuses and examinations. How beautiful all this is,
and how great and how immense is its promise for the world!

THY FATHER.

THE DEAF-MUTE.

Sunday, 28th.

The month of May could not have had a better ending than my visit of
this morning. We heard a jingling of the bell, and all ran to see what
it meant. I heard my father say in a tone of astonishment:--

"You here, Giorgio?"

Giorgio was our gardener in Chieri, who now has his family at Condove,
and who had just arrived from Genoa, where he had disembarked on the
preceding day, on his return from Greece, where he has been working on
the railway for the last three years. He had a big bundle in his arms.
He has grown a little older, but his face is still red and jolly.

My father wished to have him enter; but he refused, and suddenly
inquired, assuming a serious expression:

"How is my family? How is Gigia?"

"She was well a few days ago," replied my mother.

Giorgio uttered a deep sigh.

"Oh, God be praised! I had not the courage to present myself at the
Deaf-mute Institution until I had heard about her. I will leave my
bundle here, and run to get her. It is three years since I have seen my
poor little daughter! Three years since I have seen any of my people!"

My father said to me, "Accompany him."

"Excuse me; one word more," said the gardener, from the landing.

My father interrupted him, "And your affairs?"

"All right," the other replied. "Thanks to God, I have brought back a
few soldi. But I wanted to inquire. Tell me how the education of the
little dumb girl is getting on. When I left her, she was a poor little
animal, poor thing! I don't put much faith in those colleges. Has she
learned how to make signs? My wife did write to me, to be sure, 'She is
learning to speak; she is making progress.' But I said to myself, What
is the use of her learning to talk if I don't know how to make the signs
myself? How shall we manage to understand each other, poor little thing?
That is well enough to enable them t