One Hundred Years of Solitude

done, and instead of one he
made three weekly raffles.
From very early in the
morning he could be seen
going through the town, even
in the most outlying and
miserable sections, trying to
sell tickets with an anxiety
that could only be
conceivable in a dying man.
Heres Divine Providence, he
hawked. Dont let it get away,
because it only comes every
hundred years. He made