The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1872-01-12
CAMILLA.

| nights, and munched his meals OF
bread and cheese (Or Bologna sausage
when he could afford it,, and from
whence he crept, as harmless and un-
noticed as fly, down the corner of
| the dingy street, to the little music
shop of Carl BertmRnn, a German
settler somewhere in Soho.
Here he tinkered all day on broken
| violins and other musical instru-
ments, never absenting himself for
moment, save on Saturday afternoons,
| when he went to the house of q small
| tradesman to teach the piano to three
or four stupid girls. Sundays he
curled up in his den, and amused him
self, nobody knew how, until Monday
morning.
There are few certainties; he never
went to church but he picked ragged
children from the pavement when
they fell near him, and gave them
| half pennies when he had any; shared
his dinner often with a marcy, dirty
cur, who acted as a sort of escape
valYe for the ill-temper of half the
men and women in the street; and he
reused Pat Ryan from his midnight
snOOze in the gutter many cold night,
| and literally carried him home to
Norah and the children.
AS for his honesty, q neighbor re-
marked, " If he found five shilIiDgs
| in the street, he'd wear out ten shil-
| lhgs 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 a small
object crouched on the door step.
| Plor,c Whale fhsoOg1 s,ysioI TOov7I
| trying to regain his equilibrium.
"Only me, sir :" And the small OBJ
eet stood up, and became a very, pale,
thin, and ragged child.
Are you hurt, little girl ?"
No, sir"
"What are you doing out here in the
cold ?"
Nothing"
"Why don't you go home?"
{" amt got any"
"Dear me Where's your mother ?n
In Heaven ~
| At this Paul was dumbfounded 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:
"OhI pve got a home-a really
jolly place Come up and see."
And this is the way old Paul came to
have a 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
- J,
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 waif, Camilla.
There were many, many days when
rheumatism 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
forgetting how near death she had
been on that bitter night of their
meeting, always found word to ward
on hunger, and courage to keep them
| both bright until help came.
The winter of 1866-came in like
| lion, as many a poor wretch well re-
members, and with the first blast came
! Paul's enemy. He turned one night
| q sad face from his warm corner in
Bertmann's shop among the viOlins,
and 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
/ nj = hnI hnnv-I
the end of the stanza, she took breath
and another voice said, g Child, you
astonish me. Either am poor judge
Of music, or else your voice is the
finest I ever heard. You are right in
preferring it to anything else"
An electric thrill shot through old
PauTs frame and quickened his blood
to a rapidity that quite carried away
his rhumatic pains, and in a 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 hand
some and polished gentleman, with
diamond studs in his snowy linen, q
heavy ring upon his dainty white
hand, unquestionable brOadclOth upon
his back, in close conversation with
his Camilla, whose WOndrOus beauty
had of late startled even his dull per-
ception, was more than Paul could
bear.
He was q very small man-had been
in his yOuth-and now that times
whitening fingers had touched him,
he was shriveled, and dried like with
cred fruit, but in his virtuOus indigna-
ton he puffed out to his fullest extent,
and in his falsettO voice, piPed:
Camilla, how dare you invite any
one here?
"Oh, Uncle Paul! This is Mr.. Clev-
ering a gentleman whose-Whose-"
Whose mother she saved from
death. Your neice, sir, few days
since, was passing through our GRO wded
) thOroughfare, when my mothers car
Tiage drew up to the pavement. The
horses were restiVe, and bidding the
driver to attend to them, she began to
descend unassisted. Her foot was on
J the step, when the animals sprang
and flung her violently from her foot
} hold. But for the sudden act of your
neice, who received my mother in her
strong young arms, the fall might
have been fatal one. Ny mother at
ence entered q shop, and keeping your
neice near her, sent for me. ! came
to-day, st my mothers request, to
express our heartfelt gratitude, and to
: offer"
? "You needn't offer Camilla penny,
sir. She will never suffer while I've a
pair Of hands to work for her." said
| Paul.
You mistake me. / do not wish
to insult you, but would raise this
child from her poverty and educate
r her, that she might be of use to you
and herself, and become a refined
woman. Don't let your selfish love
stand in her light, and shut it out
from her. She sings like q prims
! donna, and wishes to study music"
= The great lustrOus eyes of the child
; turned implOringly to her guardian.
Lor Camilla, can't stand in your