The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1864-09-29
Hired ITO Play"

as From Chanter's edinburgh journal.
We had lived more than month under
the same roof before met herbut without
having seen her face, without having heard
her voice, it seemed to me, i'll some way, that
| knew Amelia Weston intimately. Night
after night, when [ came home tired to my
hotel and used to sit idly gazing in the fire
and thinking over my days work, the same
patient hand at the same hour would begin
its practice, and continue it know not'tiil
what hour of the uight-till long after mid
night certainly;for once or twice when / re
TUNED from the theatre between twelve and
one o'clocE,a light still burned in Miss Yves
tons room, Miss Weston's piano was still, go
ing as the servant of the house used to
term it, when i'll deprccating way she apol
| ogized to me for the nocturnal habits Of my
Acknowledged. 60
don't think ever heard a more synlpa-
thetic touch than hers Under ordinary Cir
cumstances,a professional person practlclng
of an evening OF four or five hours at a
stretch i'll the room Immediately beneath
you, is not a thing to be desired, but in what
ever mood | was, however tired, however de-
pressed, this girls playing soothed me, yes,
quadrilles or waitzes,o or worked at over and
over again, a passage in some exqusltely
graceful little revery or nocJurne of her own
composition. think it must have been the
delicate finish, the sense of unwearying pa
tience i'll all she did, that gave SO infinite d
pathos to her performance, for she was not at
all a fine, not even, ] dare say,a good second
rate musician. At all events, and no viewer
it might have affected higher judges her
playing soothed me singularly;and sitting, as
/ have said, alone Of an evening, gazing wea-
riedly at the fire, and listening to her, used
often to think: ''Patient artist whomsoever
you may be, know you and feel with you.
Work hope deferred, courage, scant acknowl-
edgment Of your claims.
!. You and / speak the same language.
Our ways in the world lie wide apart and yet
our feet are treadng the same long and up
hill road Patient artist, you andI are
akin" -
| felt this and liked to indulge the feeling;
and, fancifulIy, to make out Miss Westons
history, and even the color of her eyes and
hair ;but purposely abstained from seeking
to meet her, or even to ask any questions re-
garding her from the servant oflthe honse. /
was old enough to know the value Of any
pretty little fancy that my brain might
amuse itself with, and wise enough not to
court establishment, even in the most un-
important things of life. No doubt if |
came to know the neighbor who charmed
me so in spirit, should find her, in the flesh,
a common sort of young woman enough,
with large hands and defective aspirates,
who would give me card setting forth
her abilities as professor Of music, and re-
quest me to recommend her among my
friends The secret of retaining a sentiment
of interest in our fellowcreatures is to i'm
agine much, and know little concerning
them Let my patient fellow-lodger renal n
unknown to me, even by sight, so that |
might be able to listen to her playing with
pleasure, even if we remained under the
same roof for years. A friendly hand con-
genial family mind, would speak to me every
night, inst as long as the artist herself re-
manned invisible-no longer probably,
But l was wrong. | saw poor Amelia, and
my vague intangible interest became one Of
the strongest have felt at first sight, and
for an utter stranger 1t happened thus: Two
or three friends were dining with Inc one
December night-a bitter snowy night II
was, ] remember--and knowing we should
be late, sent the people of the house to bed,
promising to see myselfto the2 fastening o.
the street door when my friends left me,
did so, considerably after midnight;and ther
having heap of papers to. wade through,
and feeling no inclination for sleep, made VI
a blazing fire, and sat myself down to work.
About on hour aud half later-at half past
1.-TWO A. NJ that is to say was startled by
hearing ring at the front-door bell. ',Wel
| sat up, II thought, Here is one of the Sc,
cond floor dodgers dependent upon his latct
key, and carefully bolted and barred out by
my hand" And wishing to save the de
linquent alike from the bitter cold Of the
night-air and from the landlady's wrath,
should he ring again and rouse her, Lit my
bedroom candle, ran quickly down stairs, and
opened the door
The ghost Of u girls face met my sight.
'The latch was down and | was Obliged
to ring, said hoarse, tired voice. 81 hope
| haven't kept any one up'-and then the
girl started back on seeing a stranger, and
the blood rushed violently into her death
white cheeks ''I-I beg your pardon, SIR. >
she stammered 81 have been attending g
party in Cavendish Square, and it was SC
close, ran home on foot. Susan forgot
was out, suppose, aud put the latch down
And then she begged my pardon again, with
a kind of mingled pride and humility that
touched me more than / can say.
This, then, was my patient, unknown
artist. The roll of music that she held IL
her trembling ungloved hands her plain
black dress, her desperately tired face, would
have told me her story in q moment even