This is the cry of devotion to the citizens, joyfully waving their white handkerchief, turning constantly to Santa during the processions of 4 and 5 February at the height of the festival that lasts a whole month.
From mid-January, in fact, until the eighth of February 12, follow each other many times of prayer and fun, with enthusiasm to honor the Patron. To truly know
Catania should participate at least once the feast of St. Agate: a special opportunity to see the city dress up, reviving a centuries-old tradition.
The life and history of this beloved Santa on the following pages we will be told by the Sac. Santo D'Arrigo in his monumental work "The Martyrdom of St. Agatha in the historical context of his time", starting from historical sources, has reconstructed the story of the martyrdom on time, denying where he needed some misinterpretations that have spread in time.
Holy Privitera, thanks to his "The Book of St. Agatha," will lead us instead to the discovery of the festival, folklore and legends relive those days of February, creating an immersive.
On these tracks, we would like to engage the contributions of other fans and scholars who are invited to intervene by sending their written under the "Email" menu at the bottom, and these contributions will be made available in the "Wise Men".
who wanted to deepen the individual aspects will be in "Books and works" some of the most interesting works on individual topics, which can take directly to our site in "My Documents", instead, you will find a number of useful documents to complete the bibliographical panorama reference. Anyone interested in commissioning a specific ricerca, o la realizzazione di foto o filmati secondo proprie indicazioni, può contattarci sempre inviando un messaggio dalla voce "E-mail".
Infine, vi consigliamo di dare un'occhiata anche alla parte riguardante i “Souvenirs”, dove troverete gli oggetti ricordo di S. Agata e i prodotti tipici disponibili in città nei giorni della festa 
This is the cry of devotion to the citizens, joyfully waving their white handkerchief, turning constantly to Santa during the processions of 4 and 5 February at the height of the festival that lasts a whole month.
From mid-January, in fact, until the eighth of February 12, follow each other many times of prayer and fun, with enthusiasm to honor the Patron. To truly know
Catania should participate at least once the feast of St. Agate: a special opportunity to see the city dress up, reviving a centuries-old tradition.
The life and history of this beloved Santa on the following pages we will be told by the Sac. Santo D'Arrigo in his monumental work "The Martyrdom of St. Agatha in the historical context of his time", starting from historical sources, has reconstructed the story of the martyrdom on time, denying where he needed some misinterpretations that have spread in time.
Holy Privitera, thanks to his "The Book of St. Agatha," will lead us instead to the discovery of the festival, folklore and legends relive those days of February, creating an immersive.
On these tracks, we would like to engage the contributions of other fans and scholars who are invited to intervene by sending their written under the "Email" menu at the bottom, and these contributions will be made available in the "Wise Men".
who wanted to deepen the individual aspects will be in "Books and works" some of the most interesting works on individual topics, which can take directly to our site in "My Documents", instead, you will find a number of useful documents to complete the bibliographical panorama reference. Anyone interested in commissioning a specific ricerca, o la realizzazione di foto o filmati secondo proprie indicazioni, può contattarci sempre inviando un messaggio dalla voce "E-mail".
Infine, vi consigliamo di dare un'occhiata anche alla parte riguardante i “Souvenirs”, dove troverete gli oggetti ricordo di S. Agata e i prodotti tipici disponibili in città nei giorni della festa
billy the kid
Nelle settimane che seguirono la fuga di Billy, ricevetti diverse critiche per il mio apparente distacco e disinteresse nei confronti del suo arresto. Ma io sono piuttosto egoista e preferisco occuparmi degli affari miei da solo, cercando di portare a termine i miei piani secondo un collaudato metodo personale.
So really, I had stopped collecting information on the Kid, just trying to keep my plan secret, hidden behind a discreet silence. Billy I did not follow its usual hiding places, and not revealed to anyone my plans. I stayed at home, giving me to do at the ranch. My goal was to throw off the people and let the kid get used to hiding. I was almost certain that Billy had stayed around, probably hiding near Fort Sumner. Yet my certainties were cracked by some considerations: Billy was not a fool, indeed it was with tremendous analytical skills and an extraordinary coldness, especially for a boy his age. So why would decide to stay Territories? There was nothing to hold him, and indeed the size that was hanging over his head, the sentence awaiting him, and the luck that had assisted in the escape had to encourage him to flee. So as a first step I should solve my doubts.
[...]
finally decided to meet Peter Maxwell, to whom I was certain I could trust. Me and my men rode up to the borders of the estate of Maxwell, where we found a guy camped and stopped. Poe recognized the man was an old friend, with whom he had worked in Texas, a Jacobs. We stopped at his fire, we drank coffee, then walk through an orchard, which extended up to a row of buildings, houses Mexicans more than anything else, less than two hundred feet from the house of Maxwell. When we arrived near the homes of Mexican, English voices heard. We hide, keep listening. We saw a man who had appeared among the bushes and the trees: it was too far away to be able to recognize. He wore a hat trimmed with fringe, black vest and pants and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He spoke a few words - that came to our ears as a whisper unintelligible - approached a gate, stepped over him and walked straight into a house.
we would never have suspected it then, but the man was Billy the Kid.
Later we found out that Billy had left his companions and had taken refuge in a friend's house in Mexico. There he took off his hat and boots and had thrown himself on the bed to read the newspaper. After a while, 'he woke up his companion, forced him to stand up and prepare the coffee. "Give me a knife" had told him. "I'm going to take Peter to the flesh, I'm hungry." The Mexican got up, gave her a butcher knife at the Kid, that - without hat or boots - it was directed at the home of Maxwell, just a few yards. When Billy
- but remember, please, that I had not yet recognized - disappeared through the gate, I returned from my men back a few feet to avoid people who had heard about. We chose a different path that would lead to Maxwell's house, going around the houses of the Mexicans. When they finally reached the veranda of Peter, I ordered McKinney to stop Poe and outside, about ten meters, while I went in to speak with Maxwell. It was nearly midnight and Peter was already in bed. I approached him and sat on the mattress next to the pillow. I asked him once if he knew where it was Billy. He told me that the Kid was in the neighborhood, but did not know if he was gone. At that moment a man appeared before him at the door, giving us back. "Who's out there?" he shouted in English a few times. Not answered no and he went into the house: not wearing a hat and the sound of footsteps seemed that does not even boots. It had to be barefoot. He had a pistol in his right hand and a butcher knife in his left hand.
came straight at me. Before approaching the bed, I managed to whisper: "Who is Peter?", But Maxwell did not answer. For a moment I thought would be Manuel Abreu, the brother of Peter, perhaps Poe and McKinney had seen outside the gate and wanted to know what was happening. The intruder became even closer: Place both hands on the bed, almost touching his knee, and asked, "Who's out there, Peter?". Just then, Maxwell replied: "That's him." Billy had to perceive the presence of a third person stood up shooting the gun. It was less than thirty inches from my chest. He stepped back a few feet in the dark room: "Quien es?" Quien es? " (Who is it? "Who's there?, Repeated). In fact, everything happened within seconds: I took out my pistol as fast as possible and I shot, I crouched down for a moment, then fired again. The second shot was useless: Billy was already on the ground. He said nothing: a spasm, contraction, panting as if he were suffocating. And in a few seconds, the Kid went to keep company to its victims.
Maxwell meanwhile had rushed at the end of the bed and was collecting clothes for dressing up from the ground. I went on the house, where they had already noticed Poe and McKinney. Maxwell joined me, I surpassed even running towards the exit. My men's rifles pointed at him, but he implored them: "Do not shoot, do not shoot." I stopped them, saying they had taken Billy. They seemed surprised and asked me if I was sure I got the right man. But I knew too well the Kid to be wrong: I also recognized his voice. My men but had never seen before: they were aware of the man who had entered the house of Maxwell. Seeing him, McKinney had sprung to his feet, doing a little 'noise with his spurs. The Kid had turned toward them probably saw that they were armed, broke out in laughter and was directed at the house, shouting "Who's out there?". My men had left to go: after all he had no hat or boots and spoke English. He had been mistaken for a farmer from Maxwell. That's because they thought I had killed the wrong man.
finally returned home to examine the body. The bullet hit him right in the heart and the ventricle was pierced him. Poe asked me how many shots I fired: I said that I had fired twice, but the second shot was not to be scored. Apparently my men had heard three gunshots, then Billy would have returned fire.
The Kid had been fired after me, before my second shot, but we could not a trovare né un bossolo né il foro di un proiettile. Cercammo a lungo e con la dovuta attenzione – ma non trovammo niente, solo i fori dei miei due colpi. Dovevamo esserci sbagliati tutti e quattro. Per scrupolo controllammo anche la pistola di Billy, una calibro 41 semiautomatica. Nel tamburo c’erano cinque pallottole e un bossolo. Il cane riposava proprio sul bossolo: il che, in realtà, non prova proprio niente, perché molti cowboy usano questo sistema per evitare che gli scappi un colpo. Inoltre la pistola non aveva sparato di recente, almeno a giudicare dall’odore e dal bossolo.
Nessuno saprà mai se Billy the Kid mi ha riconosciuto. Se così è stato, di certo quella è stata la prima e unica volta in that the Kid has lost control and was unable to shoot first. The boy knew that if I had met would have to shoot or give up: he spread the word to Sumner that he had nothing against me, nor wanted to hurt me. But he liked to repeat that if I had met him, he would never surrender: there was no choice, he would kill me, or I'd have to kill him. He always said that if we had met, he would shoot first.
The next morning the undertaker, Alejandro Segura, performed an autopsy under the leadership of M. Rudolph, of Sunnyside, a spokesman for the office of forensic medicine in the county. They signed a deposition stating that William H. Bonney was morto in seguito a ferita da arma da fuoco: l’arma era di proprietà di Pat F. Garrett, la cui mano ha inflitto la suddetta ferita mentre il signor Garrett espletava il servizio di sceriffo. L’omicidio è pertanto lecito e giustificabile.
Il corpo venne pulito, composto in modo adeguato e sepolto nel cimitero di Fort Sumner il 15 luglio 1881. Al momento della morte Billy the Kid aveva ventun anni, sette mesi e ventun giorni.
Ho detto che il cadavere è sepolto a Fort Sumner, ma credo che si debba sottolineare che ancora vi giace intatto. Il teschio, le dita, gli alluci, tutte le ossa e tutti i capelli sono stati sepolti il quindici luglio, con buona pace dei dottori, cronisti e giornalisti che sostengono il contrario. Alcuni truffatori exhibited the skull of the Kid, his other fingers or other parts of his body. And a doctor was able to convince a gang of idiots to be in possession of the entire skeleton, re-assembled with cables and rods. I do not deny that somewhere in the United States is exposed a skeleton from the area, or even the Rio Pecos: the skeletons in these parts are not lacking. The banks of the Pecos, Rio Grande from Fort Sumner, are dotted with plaques anonymous, under which lie the skeletons of all shapes, ages and color. And any businessman or crook spectral (say) can revive a corpse and expose it, baptizing Dick Turpin, Jack Shepherd, Cartouche or Billy the Kid. No one can say anything, but do not think that the people of Rio Pecos you drink these lies.
I'll say it one last time: the body of Billy the Kid rests undisturbed in his grave - and I know what I say. 
billy the kid
Nelle settimane che seguirono la fuga di Billy, ricevetti diverse critiche per il mio apparente distacco e disinteresse nei confronti del suo arresto. Ma io sono piuttosto egoista e preferisco occuparmi degli affari miei da solo, cercando di portare a termine i miei piani secondo un collaudato metodo personale.
So really, I had stopped collecting information on the Kid, just trying to keep my plan secret, hidden behind a discreet silence. Billy I did not follow its usual hiding places, and not revealed to anyone my plans. I stayed at home, giving me to do at the ranch. My goal was to throw off the people and let the kid get used to hiding. I was almost certain that Billy had stayed around, probably hiding near Fort Sumner. Yet my certainties were cracked by some considerations: Billy was not a fool, indeed it was with tremendous analytical skills and an extraordinary coldness, especially for a boy his age. So why would decide to stay Territories? There was nothing to hold him, and indeed the size that was hanging over his head, the sentence awaiting him, and the luck that had assisted in the escape had to encourage him to flee. So as a first step I should solve my doubts.
[...]
finally decided to meet Peter Maxwell, to whom I was certain I could trust. Me and my men rode up to the borders of the estate of Maxwell, where we found a guy camped and stopped. Poe recognized the man was an old friend, with whom he had worked in Texas, a Jacobs. We stopped at his fire, we drank coffee, then walk through an orchard, which extended up to a row of buildings, houses Mexicans more than anything else, less than two hundred feet from the house of Maxwell. When we arrived near the homes of Mexican, English voices heard. We hide, keep listening. We saw a man who had appeared among the bushes and the trees: it was too far away to be able to recognize. He wore a hat trimmed with fringe, black vest and pants and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He spoke a few words - that came to our ears as a whisper unintelligible - approached a gate, stepped over him and walked straight into a house.
we would never have suspected it then, but the man was Billy the Kid.
Later we found out that Billy had left his companions and had taken refuge in a friend's house in Mexico. There he took off his hat and boots and had thrown himself on the bed to read the newspaper. After a while, 'he woke up his companion, forced him to stand up and prepare the coffee. "Give me a knife" had told him. "I'm going to take Peter to the flesh, I'm hungry." The Mexican got up, gave her a butcher knife at the Kid, that - without hat or boots - it was directed at the home of Maxwell, just a few yards. When Billy
- but remember, please, that I had not yet recognized - disappeared through the gate, I returned from my men back a few feet to avoid people who had heard about. We chose a different path that would lead to Maxwell's house, going around the houses of the Mexicans. When they finally reached the veranda of Peter, I ordered McKinney to stop Poe and outside, about ten meters, while I went in to speak with Maxwell. It was nearly midnight and Peter was already in bed. I approached him and sat on the mattress next to the pillow. I asked him once if he knew where it was Billy. He told me that the Kid was in the neighborhood, but did not know if he was gone. At that moment a man appeared before him at the door, giving us back. "Who's out there?" he shouted in English a few times. Not answered no and he went into the house: not wearing a hat and the sound of footsteps seemed that does not even boots. It had to be barefoot. He had a pistol in his right hand and a butcher knife in his left hand.
came straight at me. Before approaching the bed, I managed to whisper: "Who is Peter?", But Maxwell did not answer. For a moment I thought would be Manuel Abreu, the brother of Peter, perhaps Poe and McKinney had seen outside the gate and wanted to know what was happening. The intruder became even closer: Place both hands on the bed, almost touching his knee, and asked, "Who's out there, Peter?". Just then, Maxwell replied: "That's him." Billy had to perceive the presence of a third person stood up shooting the gun. It was less than thirty inches from my chest. He stepped back a few feet in the dark room: "Quien es?" Quien es? " (Who is it? "Who's there?, Repeated). In fact, everything happened within seconds: I took out my pistol as fast as possible and I shot, I crouched down for a moment, then fired again. The second shot was useless: Billy was already on the ground. He said nothing: a spasm, contraction, panting as if he were suffocating. And in a few seconds, the Kid went to keep company to its victims.
Maxwell meanwhile had rushed at the end of the bed and was collecting clothes for dressing up from the ground. I went on the house, where they had already noticed Poe and McKinney. Maxwell joined me, I surpassed even running towards the exit. My men's rifles pointed at him, but he implored them: "Do not shoot, do not shoot." I stopped them, saying they had taken Billy. They seemed surprised and asked me if I was sure I got the right man. But I knew too well the Kid to be wrong: I also recognized his voice. My men but had never seen before: they were aware of the man who had entered the house of Maxwell. Seeing him, McKinney had sprung to his feet, doing a little 'noise with his spurs. The Kid had turned toward them probably saw that they were armed, broke out in laughter and was directed at the house, shouting "Who's out there?". My men had left to go: after all he had no hat or boots and spoke English. He had been mistaken for a farmer from Maxwell. That's because they thought I had killed the wrong man.
finally returned home to examine the body. The bullet hit him right in the heart and the ventricle was pierced him. Poe asked me how many shots I fired: I said that I had fired twice, but the second shot was not to be scored. Apparently my men had heard three gunshots, then Billy would have returned fire.
The Kid had been fired after me, before my second shot, but we could not a trovare né un bossolo né il foro di un proiettile. Cercammo a lungo e con la dovuta attenzione – ma non trovammo niente, solo i fori dei miei due colpi. Dovevamo esserci sbagliati tutti e quattro. Per scrupolo controllammo anche la pistola di Billy, una calibro 41 semiautomatica. Nel tamburo c’erano cinque pallottole e un bossolo. Il cane riposava proprio sul bossolo: il che, in realtà, non prova proprio niente, perché molti cowboy usano questo sistema per evitare che gli scappi un colpo. Inoltre la pistola non aveva sparato di recente, almeno a giudicare dall’odore e dal bossolo.
Nessuno saprà mai se Billy the Kid mi ha riconosciuto. Se così è stato, di certo quella è stata la prima e unica volta in that the Kid has lost control and was unable to shoot first. The boy knew that if I had met would have to shoot or give up: he spread the word to Sumner that he had nothing against me, nor wanted to hurt me. But he liked to repeat that if I had met him, he would never surrender: there was no choice, he would kill me, or I'd have to kill him. He always said that if we had met, he would shoot first.
The next morning the undertaker, Alejandro Segura, performed an autopsy under the leadership of M. Rudolph, of Sunnyside, a spokesman for the office of forensic medicine in the county. They signed a deposition stating that William H. Bonney was morto in seguito a ferita da arma da fuoco: l’arma era di proprietà di Pat F. Garrett, la cui mano ha inflitto la suddetta ferita mentre il signor Garrett espletava il servizio di sceriffo. L’omicidio è pertanto lecito e giustificabile.
Il corpo venne pulito, composto in modo adeguato e sepolto nel cimitero di Fort Sumner il 15 luglio 1881. Al momento della morte Billy the Kid aveva ventun anni, sette mesi e ventun giorni.
Ho detto che il cadavere è sepolto a Fort Sumner, ma credo che si debba sottolineare che ancora vi giace intatto. Il teschio, le dita, gli alluci, tutte le ossa e tutti i capelli sono stati sepolti il quindici luglio, con buona pace dei dottori, cronisti e giornalisti che sostengono il contrario. Alcuni truffatori exhibited the skull of the Kid, his other fingers or other parts of his body. And a doctor was able to convince a gang of idiots to be in possession of the entire skeleton, re-assembled with cables and rods. I do not deny that somewhere in the United States is exposed a skeleton from the area, or even the Rio Pecos: the skeletons in these parts are not lacking. The banks of the Pecos, Rio Grande from Fort Sumner, are dotted with plaques anonymous, under which lie the skeletons of all shapes, ages and color. And any businessman or crook spectral (say) can revive a corpse and expose it, baptizing Dick Turpin, Jack Shepherd, Cartouche or Billy the Kid. No one can say anything, but do not think that the people of Rio Pecos you drink these lies.
I'll say it one last time: the body of Billy the Kid rests undisturbed in his grave - and I know what I say.
