Butte record. (Bidwell, Butte County, Cal.) 1853-1858, 1857-04-04
CASTA DIVA.
A TOUCHING STORY.

nIUI HIS Gi-NOAOtOs NtNSc''S EOhn
about him. 4 wish [ were married |
know a lady, board IN the same house,
too. and | believe she'd have me, if
were to ask her. | mean the pretty
musick teacher. She is young, deli
cate and amlable; only there seems to
be something melancholy about her, as
though she had known sorrow; besides
she is widow, l like her, though,
and believe she likes me. I'll think
this over. | have plenty of money.
and nobody to spend it upon. Yes, [
think | will ask pretty Madame Victor
to marry me-
Rap, tap, tap
Come in,-wEo's there p
please sir, it's your clean clothes. ,
Clean clothes, and pray who are
YOU, you little cherub, and where do
you come srom''
Il am Lauretta, sir, and I live
with Bridget, who washes your clothes,
and she seHt me with the basket TO-
night
Eyes, I should think she had, you
little duckling, and tho basket is big
ger than yourself! Come and sit down
in this chair by the fire and warm your
toes, there, now, | want to talk with
you. Are you Bridget's child''
'Oh, no, sir; and look of care pas
ses over the little face.
No, thought not. Washerwomen's
children don't have such eyes, nor such
broad foreheads, nor such soft hair
Well, birdie, how came you with Bird
get ? Have you no parents ?
/ don't know, l only dream | have.
Bridget lets me stay with her because
| can sing
Sing and what has that to do with
it"
Oh, sir, l sing my songs in great
houses, and they give me sixpences,
and | take them to Bridget
.Aha, you pay your board, then :
Well' little Lauretta, will you sting for
me now?'
Yes, indeed , and the little one
stands up in the middle of the rug, and
opening her rosebud mouth. she sings
Casta Dira
Bless my stars, what voice! |
know something of music myself, at
least enough to know that such a voice
should be fortune to the one who
possesses it. Little one, where did
you learn that:'
Nurse taught me-
Nurse, Who is nurse =
'sNurse is dead The dark eyes fill
with tears, and the ruby lips are quiv-
ering.
Mr.. Patron walks up and down the
room. His curiosity is excited as well
as his pity.
'Please, sir, shall have my basket ?
Bridget will scold If | stay so long
No, little one, / will carry the bas-
ket, am going home with YOU
its up FIVE Hf4hts of stairs, and
there is no light in the PASSAGE
.All the mole reason | should 60
with you. Now | am ready. Come,
my little singer, you and will be bet
ter acquainted before long. Don't fall
down these stone steps, keep hold of
my hand, here we are. in Broadway
Now where do we turn down Prince
street, hey? aud now down Crosby.
What, do you live in this ally Oh,
never fear, little Casta Dira, | shall
treal safely enough while this little
hand leads me Ugh, how many more
flights are there only two. Well, well,
can climb them if you can. So, is
this the door ?
Och, and is it you, sir, that would
be afther coming to see poor woman
at this hour? Will you be seated sir
said Bridget, wiping wooden chair
with her apron. Your shirts were not
ironed to be suiting ye, maybe;' ?
Shirts all right, Bridget. | came
to bring home your little girl, and to
ask you something about her She has
been singing to me. VIII you tell me
where she came from p
'Ye takes a deal o. trouble for a
lone bit of a childer. indeed sir, but
hes story is not so very long. She lived
with farrin woman, in fhe room be-
low, named Theresa. The woman said
she was waiting maid in Loretta s fami
iy, in Italy somewhere, and while she
was out with the child, then only two
years old, for the sake of the air, there
came big row in the city, and lht
child's father was in the middle of i
and got kilt, and when she reached til,
house, all in fright, sure it was all OF
fire, and the mother of it gone, anC
niver was she able to find her at all
So she kept the child, and comes t'
America with it, for she heard tell hov
the streets here were paved with gold
and when she came, and found mar.
gould nor food but for the working, sh
had to go to work as all we poor era
theirs do, and she took in washing IL
the one room, down stairs, but niver
bit would she let the child do for itsel
but waited on it like slave, and onl..
taught il TO sing 'as its mother did be
fore it, she said, and last year There's;
died. This poor little crather took ol
SO bad that took her myself, only II