Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1874-05-27
Carl's Duty,

Carts Duty,
AND WHAT CANE OF IT.
"You must give it up my dear boy ;
there is no help for it. Now your poor
father is gone cannot afford to have you
taught. must get you place somewhere
as errand boy, and you must try and earn a
trife for yourself"
Carl sighed heavily. lie was but a child,
but the dream of his little life had been to
be musician like his father; and now that
his father was dead, his mother would have
to work hard to keep herself and him, and
Of course DO lessons was possible.
Mrs Schmidt was an English woman, but
she had married German violnist, in
regular 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 epi-
demic then raging in tho city, and soon
the poor woman was a widow and her boy
fatherless.
1t was only about fortnight after the
funeral that Carl and his mother were sit
ting together, and Mrs Schmidt made use
of the words with which this story opens.
Carl went to bed that night more sor-
rowful than he would have owned TO his
mother. 1t seemed very hard, that with a
strong love of music, and the longing for
the life aud work Of a musician, he should
have TO become a mere drudge little err
rand boy, carrying parcels for a small
tradesman, and every day getting further
and further from reaching his desire. But
the poor child did not suffer his grief to
take the form of grumbling Young as he
was, he knew that duty should be done
cheerfuly and he was too loving 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. You might
have smiled, perhaps, but you certainly
would not have laughed, could you have
heard the concluding sentence of Carl's
prayer--a prayer which he had said just
before his weary eyes closed in slumber
40, Lord Jesus, help me to be very good
though | am only to be an errand boy, aud
am never to learn music"
A week later, Carl Schmidt got a stua.
ton as an errand boy to a neighboring ba
ker, where he earned eighteen pence I
week. His duties were many, though no
very difficult. lie went out in the car
with the bakers man when the bread wa
taken to the peoples houses; he cleaneC
the windows Of the shop; he washed tn
counters and swept the floor, and some
times when both master and man were out
he served any customer who happened t
come in for bun or penny loaf.
We cannot say that Carl liked this sor
Of work, but he tried to take an interest !
it, and to do it faithfully; and so he wa
contented and happy, as everybody is VIII
cheerfully does his duty.
The baker was bachelor, and as he ha
some nice rooms over the shop, he was
the habit Of letting them to dodgers.
just before Carl entered the bakers sci
vice, one of these dodgers had gone, and no
another came, looked at the rooms, aud too
them. To Carls great delight he turne
out to be German; and one day, as II
boy was running up stairs for something b
master wanted, he heard sound whiC
sent the warm blood mounting to his veI
temples, and made his heart throb wild
with joy. 1t was the tone of violin-tt
new lodger was vioinist
Carl longed TO throw himself down GU
side the musicians door, and listen to Il
practcng but his time was not his ow
and be must not do this without leav
Back he went to bis master, whom he a
tonished by his excited look.
40, sir" cried the boy, the new lodg,
is violinist, like my dear father; | ju
heard him play"
"Well, what of that ?" said the baker.
"0nly, sir" replied Carl, &" if you wou
be so good as to let me stay n few moment
after my work is done, so that may hei
him practice, | should be so happy and
grateful"
"Oh, dear, yes" said the baker kindly
"you may begin tonight, if you like"
So that evening Carl placed himself GU
side the new lodger's door, where he S
down on the floor with his head in
hands, and listened for the violin. tt
music began at last, and every note broug
rapture TO Car's sensitive ear. The thrilliI
melodies, some Of which he knew SO we
drew tears to his eyes, and once as Il
music paused, he forgot himself so far as
sob aloud.
In an instant the door opened, and Il
musicians face appeared,
"Why, what are you doing here, me
kind" (my child, said be, gently. al
crying, too? Poor little man, who h
been scolding yOu2"
"No one, sir, sobbed Carl 81 am n
crying for that. 1t is your music, tn
beautiful fiddle, which has made me cry.
Herr Rubner, for that was the mar
name, laid his hand on the child's shoulds
and drew him into his room.
Nov tell me-" he said, why you 10
music so much, and what made you cry
In few words Carl told his little b
tory---his fathers profession, and that fat
er's promise that his child should follow
the long cherished hope Of one day |
coming musician; then the fathers deaf
and the poverty Of the bereayed home, a
the giving up all the fondest wishes Ii
had made the future 30 bright
Herr Rubner listened silently TO a
then drawing the child nearer to him,
said, "Tell me, my boy, would you like st
to learn the violin ?"
Like it! Oh, sir don't ask me I
heart is almost broken because cannot
what my father promised, because | mi
never hope TO learn"