Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1873-11-15

| VIII, with the nelp OF heaven, 90 lnucn.
ga FOOLS dream I'
"Nay p said Antonio, ait is sober
sense. Prince Lorenz de Medici was a
merchant Duke Giacomo Sforza, a
coward"
The man in the corner had hearkened
attentively to this dialogue He rose,
and touching Barbarigos shoulder said {:
Well spoken, gondolier Courage
brings success and struggles conquest.
Maria shall by thy wife"
Never y cried Gianettini.
" Master jew" said the unknown,
turning disdainfully toward him, elf this
youth could lay down 600 pistoles, would
you object to the marriage %
" Be that as it may, You must re-
member that he is now little better than
a pauper."
"Pshaw !" said the unknown, "bab-
biers are more tiresome than thieves.
Before tomorrow you shall handle that
sum-
SO saying he drew from his pocket a
piece of parchment and a crayon, and
turning toward table began rapidly to
sketch a mans hand. 1t was open, i'm
patiant, with followed palm, as if ex-
pecting shower of gold pieces 1t had,
so to speak, sensuous, avaricious ex-
preston, and one Of the fingers was en-
circled with massive ring.
"'Tis my hand - cried Gianettini
" And your history said the artist
Giving the sketch to Antonio, its au-
thor desired him to carry it to Pietro
! Benvols, librarian at the Palace of St.
Mark, and demand in exchange for it
600 pistoles.
"Six hundred fools heads !" cried the
innkeeper. " / would not give zecchin
for it. ="
Without speaking the artist turned
haughtily away.
| The gondolier took the parchment and
He then turned doubtfully towards
Maria but a glance from her soft
dark eyes reassured him and he set out
on his mission.
! With folded arms and moody brow
the artist commenced pacing up and
down the large room in the hostelry,
casting at intervals a scrutinizing glance
at the young girl, who, now penitent for
her intended crime, was silently praying
in a corner AS for Gianettini, he seemed
unable to shake off the strange ascend
ency gained over him by his unknown
visitor; his habitual ef1'rontery failed
him and, for the first time in his life,
he dared not break the silence.
An hour passed. Then hasty, joyous
steps were heard, and Antonio appeared
bearing in his hand bag and letter.
The bag contained 600 pistoles, and the
letter was addressed to the artist and
prayed him to honor the sender with a
visit.
"Take these coins and weigh them"
said the unknown, as he threw the bag
towards Gianettini.
Antonio Barbarigo stood before his
benefactor, pale, and trembling with
JOY.
"One favor more" he said Who
are you?"
What does it matter?'
"What does it matter, say you?" cried
the gondolier much-much to me
Tell me your name, signor, that l may
love and honor it to the last moment of
my life. %
"Men call me Michael Angelo"
at is my turn now," he said, "to
ask you favor. Tt is to permit me to
perpetuate on canvas the lovely features
of Maria"
The girl approached she could not
speak; but she clasped the painters
hand and raised it to her lips. A tear
fell on it and Michael Angelo, as he
drew back, turned away to conceal his
own emotions.
Twenty years passed ON and found
Antonio, the once humble gondolier,
the happy husband of Maria, and Gen
eral of the Venetian Republic. Yet his
brilliant position never rendered him
unmindful of his early life, and his
heartfelt grutitude, as we'll as that of his
wife, accompanied Michael Angelo
Buonarotti to the end of his days.
As to the crayon sketch of the miser's
hand, it was taken from Italy by sol
der in Napoleon's army, and placed in
the Louvre. During the invasion of 1914,
it was unfortunately lost, and, so far as
can be ascertalned, has never since been
recovered. The story of its production,
however, still fingers among the ira
ditions of Venice
HE Chicago Times, the other day, in
an elaborate and elegantly-written biog-
raphy of Marshal Bazaine, attempted
to credit that distinguished soldier with