The mountain sentinel. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1844-1853, 1849-11-01

dream lar Oftener punishment than a re-
ward; for of those wko sigh for fame few
indeed are successful.
Scarcely had he left the house, than
lady habited in a cloak and hood, entered
it; and after somewhat heightened con-
ference with his concierge, ascended to
his room, and remained there about an
hour. A t the end of that time she vanish
ed. 1t was midnight when the composer
returned, He entered with difficulty, the
Cerberus of the lodge being asleep, and
ascended to his wretched room. He had
left it Uttered and dirty, without light, fire,
or food. To his surprise cheerful blaze
sent its rays beneath the door. He open
ed it, not without degree of alarm, and
found his apartment neatly ordered, fire
burning, lamp and on the table a supper.
The young man frowned, and looked stern
ly at the scene.
who dares thus insult my poverty? Is
it not enough that am starving with cold
and hunger, that am rejected by the world
as useless and wretched thing, incapable
of welding either sword or pen, but must
be insulted by charity! Fire, light. and
wood, all sent by one who knows my ne
cessity! And yet who knows? Perhaps
nave ulSCOfcTcu my TC-
treat. Who else could have acted thus!
Ny mother, bless thee both for your
kindness and for respecting my conceal
ment!' And the invalid officer sat down
to the first hearty meal he had eaten for
weeks. He had left his home because his
friends wholly disapproved of his making
music profession, and wished him 10
employ his leave of absence in learning
another occupation. His mother so
pressed him, that he saw no resource but
a soldiers last chance-a retreat. For
two months no trace of the fugitive had
been seen-two months spent in vain eff
forts to make his chosen career support
him; and now, doubtless, his mother had
found him out, and had taking this delicate
way of respecting his secrecy and punish
ing his pride.
Next morning the young man awoke
with an appetite unknown TO him of late.
The generous food of the previous night
had restored his system, and brought him
to a natural state. Luckily, sufficient wine
and bread remained TO satisfy mis- craving,
and then he sat down to think. All his
efforts to get his music sung, or played, or
published, had been vain. Singers knew
lltii IlOl, uCCldICu Illu1 ullhuOW
and publishers seemed doomed never to
hear him, because they never had heard
him; logical consequence very injurious
to young beginners in literature, poesy,
music, and all the liberal arts. But he
was determined to have one more trial.
Having eaten, he dressed and went out in
the direction of the shop of the Citoyen
Dupont, a worthy and excellent man, who
in his day had published more music, bad
and good, than a musician could have
played in lifetime.
You have something new, then, cito-
yen? said Dupont, after the usual prelim-
| inares, and after apologizing to lady
within his Office for awhile. AS my time
is precious, pray play it at once, and sing
it if you will The young man sat him
self at the harpsichord which adorned the
shop, and began at once the Song of the
Army of the Rhine. The music publish
er listened with the knowing air of one
who was not to be deceived, and shook
his head as the composer ended.
| 'Rough-crude-bu clever. Young
man you will, doubt not do something
good one of these days; but at present,
am sorry to say, your efforts want finish
-polish.' The singer rose, and bowing
left the shop, despair at his heart. He
had not sou In the world; his rent was il
arrear; he knew not how to dine that even
ing, unless his mother came again to hi
aid-an aid he was very unwilling to re
ceiye. His soul repunged from it. for h,
had parteu from her in anger. His moth
er was Royalist and he was a Republi
can, and she had said bitter things to hin
at parting. But most of all the compose
felt one thing: the world never would b,
able to judge him, never be able to decid
if he had or had not merit; and this wa
the bitterest grief of all.
That day was spent in moody thought
The evening came, and no sign again o
his secret friend, whether mother or un
known sympathizer. Toward night th'
pangs of hunger became intolerabIe, ant
after numerous parleys with himself, tn,
young man ascended to his room with
heavy parcel. His eye was wild, hi.
cheek pale, his whole mien unearthly. A
he passed the door of his lodge, the con
cierge gave him ticket for the opera
signed Dupont, who was co-manager O
the theatre.
Go thyself,' said the composer, in
low, husky voice, and went up stairs.
Having gained the room, the unhapp.
and misguided young man sat silent an
motionless for some hours, until at lengt
hunger, despair, and his dreamy vision