The tri-weekly news. [volume] (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1865-1876, 1866-12-06
ROMANCE OF LONDON. !.
THE LIGHT OF YOUTH.

chill autumnal mist swayed heavily in
the air, and hung in dew-drops from the
slanting caves.
"Ihere was no brlliancy in the light.
ed shops and nought save the snllen
glare from the lamps above and house.
less dogs crept shivering into doorways,
and houseIess Want huddled itself beside
them on the stones; while hastily and
cheerlessiy the human current passed
outward. longing for the warm chimney.
corner where wcll.known faces would
revive The spirits, and merry voices ring
muslcally round the hearth.
The pale nrIliner tripped lightly on
her way and forgot her pal lptating heart.
aud bleeding fingers in the JOY of eman.
cipation from the toll that was DESTROY.
ing her. Sleek Fashion rolled ON It's
carriage cushion along the thoroughfare,
and yawning its last yawn, became sen.
s'ble to external objects. -.TaWdry Vice
nered from the vagrant's eye, and stur,
oy Labor elbowed its way along the
trotto'r -allAihe prince and the peasant,
the good and the bad pursued their
paths in silent haste-all, save the poor
mendicant musician, who stood PLAYING
unheeded to the busy crowd.
"Unnoted, indeed for what had the
thronglng wayfarers to do with music
on such night? Though his melodies
might awaken visions Of many land
of sunny France, in the age of chivalry
%! the latticed bowers Of Spain, and
the rustic pipings that Aoa,ed over Ty.
roean hills what were these to tile
prosaic citizens of 'Chepe p
yet the player did not droop though
his elf3rts-aad they were III feeble skill
excited little charity III the maltitude
Againand again he resumed che violin
with freshened energy, until his frame
trembled with cold, and the spirit of
Hope gradually retreated before Despair.
Then he swept the raven curls from his
brow; ard, while the night.dew sodden.
ed into his frame, he bent despondingly
over,thn instrument.
"'No pity for thee, Marlanar he
muttered, tearfully; nothing to soothe
ahe agony and sweat of thy dying mo
menls! All, why did we leave Italyl
lyon come from ltaly2' said a
stranger, approaching the poor musi
clan.
'Si signor.' answered the player;
and he looked ,mploringlv u pom his
Questioner. 1--WE are from the banks Of
q. the bright Arno-my sister and I. sig.
nor; and the death-sroke is OH her. Oh,
help me-help me, for the sake of Ma.
riana
Mariana = exclaimed the stranger,
with a sudden start.
$50 wild and,agtated had his whole
canntenance grown at the mention of
Mat name, that flash of lightning could
scarcely have Illuminated his features
with more fiery lusre.
The musician gazed earnestly upon
the form before him, but saw pothing to
explain the interest it had excited. The
stran&t,r was slight even to attenuation
his hair hung down his shoulders jnstllck
masses; and it was not until l,e turned
from tile pale, meagre cheek to tlle black
eyes and olive complexion. that the
5aazer recognized some Of the traits Of
Gountryman.
~ see it now, signorl' said the mu-
sician :--'you are from Italy you, too,
have dwellin my beautiful Florence,
beside the Arno. Is il not so p
IL have. was the faltered reply.
'''Ah then you know how sad it is
to languish for home, when oceans roll
between the foot and its native soil.
And She continued the musician - she
raves Of the skies Of Italy in the delri-
um of her pairing soul--our poor strick.
en- Mariana You start at that name,
slgnor!'
1T recalls, said the stranger, AN
echo ofyoa!l,, forgotten dream LET it
pass
His thin white hands wandered over
his face as # to shut out the world for
moment, or hide some feeting emotion.
But you are in want, he added,
after pause-tlten / willard you for
Il