New Orleans daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1851-1866, 1852-06-15

by HENRY MASON.
" Elm peilchen atf der Wiese stand.
G;cJr-tch in sch ,tnd nntekaunt
Es tcar Elm heezigss peilchcn.D
"a violet on the meadow grew,
Slightly bowed and quite alone,
1t lovely flower
A few hours distance from Vienna, there is q
small village, the name of which have forgot
ten; think, however, the name is of little con-
sequence, for there is only one so charming
village in the world. A small chapel stands on
a little eminence; wild roses and ivy climb over
its grey walls, and up toi it's windows; and a few
white and neat, but low, cottages, surrounded
by thick bushes, humbly look as if in reyerential
awe of their tall and majestic lord and parent.
Tall and aged linden and chestnut trees sur
round the whole peaceful place. But the house
of the Cantor+ is the loveliest of them all; it is
situated somewhat apart from the others, and is
almost covered with beautiful flowers. To take
care of these flowers used to be the greatest
pleasure of the old Cantor; but among all these
hoses, lilies, and tulips, the most lovely flower
was his little daughter, Violetta. He had
buried his beloved wife, when his child was in
her sixth year; and that had been the greatest
grief of his long life, which had most always
flowed on as peacefully as a little gurgling rivu-
let. But he had always had wonderful, and
at the same time, powerful comforter by his side,
which, with gentle hand, removed from his
memory every atf1iction, and which, when his
dear partner died, took him gently in her sooth-
ing arms. The name of this comforter was
:" Musica,' and it was in truth his most dearly
beloved-the only mistress of his heart He
had one other priceless treasure; it stood in one
corner of his sitting room, and was an old
| spineit; and here it was that the old Cantor
held intercourse with the spirits of the great
Bach and Handel, and the old Italian masters,
and lost himself in the magic world which opened
| before him.
Violetta used to think that these spiritual
conversations were not always particularly
beautiful; the old spinett often buzzed and
squeaked quite wonderfully, and the fingers Of
| her aged father would sometimes refuse to move
as nimbly over the polished keys as he wished
or as they should have done she took care
however, not to say so, and sat quite still in the
corner of the room, with her work in her hands
If, as was often the case, the player suddenly
paused in the highest state of aspiration, and
gazed in silence, but with an expressive look, al
her, she would lovingly nod to him, and perhaps
arise and give him sweet kiss on his forehead
Then he would relate to her all that he knew o
| the great masters; and she could hardly believe
him when he told her that the great conquerol
of harmony, Sebastian Bach, had worn horri
BILE, long wig, and that Handel was such a grea
snuff taker. She had formed quite differen
picture to herself of the great masters, which
her father SO dreadfully mutilated. Almos
daily the old Cantor would tell her the SAM
stories, and Violetta always listened with th
same quiet attention, one might almost say de
yotion, as when she heard them for the frs
time, and no feature Of her lovely countenanc
showed single trace of fatigue.
She had also seen a celebrated musician her
self, the lucky Violetta, and she did not forge
that one single instant; the people called hin
Father Haydn Violetta's father alway
called him his King; and there existed in tn
very depths of his heart a reverence and lov
for him, of the power of which, even his ow
child had no idea. When she was a little CIR
her father had once taken her with him to til
great city; and there, in splendid church, sl
had heard some most beautiful music, that I'll
people called the ssSeasons." The sensitiy
soul of the little child was nearly crushed b
the great effect of this wonderful music IN
yet she. felt so happy, SO blessed She frs
dreamed of "Spring,'' then lovely &c Summer
soon she heard the merry horns of the hunter!
felt the approach of cold &c winter she uncor
sciously drew nearer to her father. He, how
ever, hardly knew at that moment, that h
child was by his side; he sat motionless, lister
ing almost breathless, for fear of losing the del
! cious treat, and his countenance and large dal
! eyes appeared as though inspired he laughe
and cried alternately. When all was over, h
1 took his child by the hand and went rapidly
\ without saying word, out of the church.
4 little distance from the door, stood many peopl
old and young, male and female, and in I'll
middle Of them, Il somewhat old and slende
man whose face literally beamed with Joy
s'Father Haydn!' sounded from all sides. Vic
letta gazed at him with timid veneration an
oyerhowing eyes:
"Father Haydn " had for every one trient
ly word or press of the hand; he was alway
smiling, and seemed perfectly happy and
friendship with the whole world. Violetta
father pressed through the thick circle, an
=, had seized Haydn's hand before he was observe
by him, exclaiming in half smothered voice
's Thanks, Father Haydn, thanks!'' The gre,
i i master, however, tenderly pressed the hand
J. the old Cantor, and smiled friendlily to hir
Il Il Vioetta had seen all that distinctly neverth
n less, she was obliged to listen to the narratit
= of it nearly every day was it not, indeed, tt
!; :; happiest day of her fathers life, elf cou
only see my King once more,' he was accu
toned to say sometimes, {" believe should
: with joy. l felt, when held his blessed har
j. in mine, as though my heart would break"
One day, when the flowers were in full bloc
and the little village bore its very neatest loo
IS it happened that Violetta sat in the garden al
re- built castles in the air, a thing she sometim
' used to do. Her father sat a little distan
from her, reading. Suddenly merry song W
neard proceeding from the 0tner Slde OIL the ga
den hedge, and Immediately afterwards fre
and happy countenance, belonging to a YOU
and slender man, peeped over it, quite near v
oletta.' The young man appeared to be quite tir
out, and carried a small map and heavy wal
ing stick in his hand; on his head was a sm
black cap; thick, dark brown braid hung ratl
disorderly from under it, and on his should
sat tame Stare.
- stLovely, beautiful girl, let me come il
begged the stranger; and his bright blue ey
:, begged still more earnestly than his wore
~ Without however, waiting for any other ansN
aS S than Violetta's smile, he leaped, with pow,
-, full spring, over the thick hedge The old Ca
ion tor came rapidly up. Violetta laughed till I
on, tears ran down her soft checks; but the you
his man had, by this salto mortale, lost his ma
:. music paper and pencil flew also out of
hands, and the Stare cried out: ssMisfortr
Of on misfortuner' and jabbered q crowd Of Ital
Nd words, without any connection one with
AN other. The hardy springer held out his hand
ET the old Cantor, saying: &c Dear papa. you
here u young music student from Vienna, v
has been running about all day long, trying
steal melodies from the birds; but my negot
r. tor here" pointing to the Stare, which loo
~ knowingly at him with its wise eyes, &c
deceived me outrageously, has eat up all
}. stock of provisions, and frightened away
n most charming of warblers by his noisy jabl
n ing; and now beg Of you to dissolve the ins
x portable minor of a sad stomach into a pow
y full, inspiriting major