The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1872-01-18
CAMILLA.


when he could afford it), and frol
whence be crept, as harmless and III
noticed as a fly, down the corner
the dingy street, to the little mus
y shop OF Carl Bertmann, Germa
settler somewhere in Soho.
Here he tinkered all day on broke
violins and other musical instru
ments, never absenting himself for
moment, save ON saturday afternoons
when he went to the house of q smal
tradesman to teach the piano to thre
or four stupid girls. Sundays h
curled up in his den, and amused him
self, nobody knew how, until Monda,
morning.
There are few certainties ; he neve
went to church; but he picked ragge,
children from the pavement whel
they fell near him, and gave then
half pennies when he had any share,
his dinner often with a mangy, dirt,
cur, who acted as a sort of escape
valye for the ill-temper of half tn,
men and women in the street; and b,
reused Pat Ryan from his midnieh
snooze in the gutter many cold night
and literally carried him home tt
NOrah and the children.
AS for his honesty, a neighbor re.
marked, eff he found five shillings
in the street, he'd wear out ten shil.
lAgs worth Of strength and shoe leath.
er to find the owner"
One cold night Paul was returning
from his work, with a loaf of bread
under one arm and violin under the
other, when at the street door he
stumbled and nearly fell over small
object crouched on the door step.
"Bless us! What's this?n cried Paul,
trying to regain his equilibrium.
"Only me, sir" And the small OBJ
ect stood up, and became a very, pale,
thin, and ragged child.
" Are you hurt, little girl ?"
"No, sir.n
"What are you doing out hero in the
cold? ?"
Nothing"
"Why don't you 60 home?"
amt got any,"
Dear me Where's your mother q"
"In Heaven ~
At this Paul was dumbf0unded and
seeing that great tears were stealing
down the child's wan face, he thrust
the violin under the arm which held
the bread, and putting the other around
the tiny figure said:
ooh I've got home--a really
jolly place Come up and see."
And this is the way old Paul came to
have neat little hOusekeeper, and to
be buying gowns and shoes out of his
poor salary.
People wonder at the sight of this
bent old man, hitherto alone and un-
cared for, now walking daily to his
work with his hand upon the shoulder
of the odd, yet pretty faced girl, look
ing at her with honest pride brighten
ing up his eyes, and laughing as loud
as she, wherever the joke came in.
But old Paul looked unconcerned,
evaded the questions of the curious,
and learned TO love nothing better in
this world than the little wait, Camilla.
There were many, many day when
drew Paul up by the fire,
in the old, back attic, and drew the
last penny out of the old, dilapidated
purse; but brave little Camilla, never |
how near death she had
been on that bitter night of their
meeting, always found a word to ward
OIL hunger, and courage to keep them
both bright until help came.
The winter of 1S66-came in like
lion, as many poor wretch well re.
and With the first blast came
Paul's enemy. He turned one night
a sad face from his warm corner in
Bertmann's shop among the violins,
aud hobbled up the old street, feeling
the approach of the old rheumatic
pains and wondering what would be-
come of his poor little Camilla.
His excitement carried him up to the
last flight Of stairs, and hearing
Camilla's voice, he paused to rest and
to listen. She was singing in that
sweet and expressive manner which
made her voice seem to him the sweet
est and purest he had ever heard. At
the end of the stanza, she took breath
and another voice said, "Child, you
me. Either am poor judge
Of music, or else your voice is the
finest ever heard. You are right in
preferring it to anything else."
An electric thfill shot through old
Paul's frame and luickenSd his blood
to a rapidity that quite carried away
his rhumatic pains, and in twinkling
he was up the stairs and in his little
attic.
He was terrified at the sound of a
mans voice, but the sight of a hand
some and polished gentleman, with
iiamond studs In his snowy linen, a
heavy ring upon his dainty white
hand, unquestionable broadcloth upon
his back, in close conversation with ,
his camilla, whose wOndrOus beauty 9
had of late startled eyen his dull per- :
,eption, was more than faul could
bear.
lie was very small man-had been g
IN his yOutb--and now that times Q
fingers had touched him, /
ne was shriveled, and dried like With S
cred fruit, but In his virtuous indigna- {
ton he puiled out to his fullest extent, q
and in his falsettO voice, plped:
Camilla, how dare you invite any t
one here? q
"Oh, Uncle Paul This is Mr.. Clev. G
ering a gentleman whose-whose-" 8
Whose mother she saved from v
death. Your ae;ce, sir, a few days \
since, was passing through oGr crowded h
thoroughfare, when my mothers cat- p
riage drew up to the pavement. The /
horses were restive, and bidding the b
lriver to attend to them, she began to 8
descend unassisted. Her foot was on t
The step, when tho animals Gprang n
and flung her violently from her foot /
hold. But for the sudden act Of your q
neice, who received my mother in her
strong young arms, the fall might T
nsva been a fatal one. My mother at 8
snce entessi y shop, and keeping your {
neice near her, sent for me. I came /
.o.day, at my mothers request, to i
express our heartfelt gratitude, and to
,fer---"
"You needn't offer Camilla penny, =
,ir, She will never suffer while I've 8
,air of hands to work for her." said b
Paul. 3
"You mistake me. / do not wish G
. ;,,a,,I, x,ot hut uo,IId raisa this .