Bozeman avant courier. [volume] (Bozeman, Mont.) 1872-1882, 1873-09-12
CARL,s b UTY,
And What Came of It.

must get you pace somewhere as eFraHu-
boy, and you must try and earn trifle for
yourself"
Carl sighed heavily. He was but a child,
but the dream OF his life had been TO be a
musician like his father; and now that father
was dead his mother would have to work
hard to keep herself and him, and OF course
no lessons were possible.
Mrs. Schmidt was an English woman. but
she had married a German violinist. in rcgu-
lar employment in London, and for some
years they had lived very happily. But
Frank Schmidt, never in good health, had
suddenly been struck down by an epidemic
then raging in the city, and soon the poor
woman was widow and. .her. little boy father
less.
It was only about fortnight after the fun
eraI that Carl and his mother were sitting to-
gether, and Mrs. Schmidt made use of the
words with which this story opens.
Carl went to bed that night more sorrow
full than he would haye owned to his mother
It seemed very hard that, with strong love
of music, and a longing tor the life and work
of musician, he should have to become
mere drudge-a little errand-boy, carrying
parcels tor a small tradesman. and every day
gettiug further and further from reaching his
desire. But the poor child did not suffer bis
grief to take the form of grumbling. Young
as he was, he knew that duty should be done
cheerfuliy; and lie was too loving a son to
add to his mothers troubles by any selfish
ness of his own.
SO he fell asleep at last with his eyelashes
wet, but with resolve in his brave, young
heart to do what was right. Yon might
have smiled, perhaps, but you certainly
would not have laughed. could you have
heard the concluding sentence of Carls
prayer-a prayer which he had said just be-
fore his weary eyes closed in slumber: so
Lord Jesus, help me to be very good, though
am only to be an e-rand-boy, and am never
to learn music"
A week later, Carl Schmidt got a situation
as errand-boy to neighboring baker, where
he earned eighteen pence week. His du-
ties were many, though not very difficult.
lie went out in the cart with the bakers man
when the bread was taken round to peoples
houses; he cleaned the windows OF the shop
he washed the counters, anG swept the floor,
and sometimes, wheh both master and man
were out, he served any customer who hap
pened to come in for bun or penny loaf.
We cannot say that Carl liaed this sort OF
work, but he tried to take an interest in it,
and to do it faithfully and so he was con-
tented and happy, as everybody is who
cneertully does his duty.
The baker was bachelor, and as he had
some nice rooms over the shop, he was in the
habit cf letting them to dodgers.
Just before Carl entered the bakers SER
vice, one OF these dodgers had gone, and now
another came, looked at the rooms, and
took them. To CARTS great delight he turn
ed out to be German; and one day, as the
boy was running upstairs for something his
the warm blood mounting to his very tenn
Piles, and made his heart throb wildly with
joy. 1t was the tone of a violin-the new
lodger was violinist!
side the musicians door, and listen to the
but his time was 1ot his own,
and he must not do this without leave. Back
he went to his master, whom he astonished
by his excited looks.
80, SIR" cried the boy. g the new lodger
is violnist, like my dear father I; just
heard him play ~
"Well. what of that?' said the baker.
only. slr,.' replied Carl, $ if you would
be so good as to let me stay few moments
after my work is done, so that may hear
him practice. | should be so happy and so
grateful.
"Oh. dear, yes" said the baker kindly,
.you may begin tonight, il you like"
So that evening Carl placed himself out
side the new lodger's door. where he sat
down on the floor with his head in his hands
md listened for the violin. The music be-
gan at last. and every note brought rapture
10 Carts sensitive ear. The thrilling melo-
lies, some of which he knew so well, drew
tears to his eyes, and once. as the music
paused, he forget himself as far as to sob
aloud.
In an instant the door opened, and the
musicians face appeared.
IS Why, what are you doing here nesn kind
my child, said he gently. " All! crying.
100. Poor little man, who has been scolding |
vou?''
No one, SIR, sobbed Carl. :. am not
,rying for that. It is your music. that beau
,iful fiddle, which has made me cry"
Herr Rubner, for that was the mans name. I
aid his hand on the child's shoulder, and |
lrew him into his room.
Now tell me- he said, "why you love
music SO much. and what made You cry"
In a few words Carl told his little history
lis fathers profession, aud that fathers pro-
nisr that his child should follow 1.-THE long
hope Of one day becoming mnsi-
ian: then the fathers death, and the power
" of the bereaved home, and the giving up
If all the fondest wishes that had made the
uture so bright. sa
Herr Rubner listened silently to all. then
lrawing the child searer to him. he said.
!, Tell me, my boy, would you still like to /
earn The violin r.
.f.lle it? Oh, sir don't ask me; my(
,eaft is almost broken because cannot be
what my father promised, because I must
,ever hope to learn /" 8 .sssit
& q Don't be too sure Of that n said thesman.
With something very like twinkle in his
,ye. "Look here now-I have little old