The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1850-01-29

and despairing tone, which, however,
reached the ears of the young woman.
Good night, Citoyen," she said, and
she closed her window. The composer
lsighed, rose and went OFT to take his
usual walk by the sea beach, there, be-
fore the grandeur and sublimity of the
ocean, and amid the murmur of its bell
lowing waves, TO forget the cares of the
world, his poverty and his crushed Wis
ion of glory and renown - lie day dream
of all superior minds-a dream far often.
er punishment than reward for o
those who sigh for fame, few indeed are
successful.
Scarcely had he left the house, than q
lady, habited in cloak and hood, entered
1t and after somewhat heightened
conference with his concierge, ascended
to his room, and remained there about
an hour. AT the end of that time she
vanished. 1t was midnight when the
composer returned. lie entered with
difficulty, the Cerberus Of the lodge
being asleep, and ascended to his wretch
ed room. He had left it Uttered and
dirty, without light, fire, or food. To
his surprise a cheerful blaze sent its ray.
beneath the door. He opened it no
without alarm, and found his apartment,
neatly ordered, fire burning, lamp
and on the table supper. The young
man frowned, and looked stcrnly on the
scene.
""ho dares thus insult my poverty
Is it not enough that am starving with
cold and hunger, that l am rejected by
the world as useless and wretched
thing, incapable of welding either sword
or pen, but | must be insulted by char
ity? Fire, light, and food, all sent me
by one who knows my necessity And
yet who knows ! Perhaps my mother
may have discovered my retreat. Who
else could have acted thus? My moth-
er, | bless thee both for your action and
for respecting my concealmentW 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 dlsapproved Of his making music
profession. and wished him to enplo,
his leave OF absence in learning another
occupation. Ills 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 efforts to
make his chosen career support him
and now, doubtless his mother had founG
him out, and had taken this delicate
way Of respecting his secresy and pun
ishing his pride.
Next morning the young man awoke
with all appetite unknown to him of late
The generous food of the previous night
had restored his system, and brought
him to natural state.-Luckily, suflic.
ieat wine aud bread remained to satsf,
his craving. and then he sat down TO think
All his efforts to get his music sung, oi
played, or published, had been in vain
Singers knew him not, publishers de,
clared him unknown, and the public
seemed doomed never to hear him. be
cause they never had heard him; log,
lcal consequence very injurious to young
beginners in literature, poesy, music
aud all the liberal arts. But he was de-
termlned to have one more trial. Hav.
ing eaten, he dressed aud went out il
the direction of the shop of the Citoyer
Dupont, worthy and excellent man,
who in his day had published more mu.
sic, bad and good than a musician coull
have played IN lifetime.
"You have something new, then. CIT
oyen p said Dupont, alter the usual pre-
liminaries, and after apologiznp to ;
lady within his office for leaving her ;
while, " As my time is precious pra,
play IT at once, and sing it if you will. ;
Tine young man sat himself at lht
harpsichord which adorned the shop, ant
began at once the Song of the Army o
the Rhine. The music publisher lis
tened with the knowing air of one VIII,
is not to be deceived, and shook his heae
as the composer ended.
'Roug -crude-but clever. Youn,
man, you will doubt not, do somethin,
good one of these days but at present
| am sorry to say, your efforts want fin
ish, polish. The singer rose, an,
bowlng, left the shop, despair at hi
heart. He had not a sous in the world
his rent was in arrears he knew no
how to dine that evening, unless, indeed
his mother came again to his aid-aI
aid he was very unwilling to receive. Iii
soul repugned from it, for he parted from
her in anger. His mother was royal
lst, he was a republican, and had sal,
bitter things to him at parting. Blu
most of all the composer felt one thine
the world would never be able to decid
If he had or had not merit; and thi
was the bitterest grief of all.
The day was spent in moody thought
The evening came. and no sign of hi
, secret friend whether mother or un
known sympathiser. Toward night IN
Pangs of hunger became intolerabIe, an
after numerous parleys with himself, III
young man ascended to his room with
heavy parcel. His eye was wild, hi
cheek pale, his whole mien unearthl,
As he passed the door Of his lodge III
concierge gave him ticket for the Or
era. signed Dupont, who was co-manc
/ ger of the theatre.
:" Go thyself, said the composer in
low husky voice, and he went up stair
Having gained the room, the unhapp
: and misguided young man sat silent an
motionless for some hours, until
E length hunger despair, and his dream
! visions had driven every calm ard 1oo
thought from his head, and then he dare
e quietly proceed to carry out his dreadii
J. and desperate intent. He closed car,