Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1875-09-01
Harriet Prescott Spofford, in Harper's Bazaar.
THE LITTLE BLACK FIDDLE.

It hung in the garnet, on one of the
big nails there, all around it the lumber
of an old house-trunks. broken chairs,
a superannuated chest of drawers,
spiuningwheel, cobwebs.
Years and years ago tramp had been
taken in at the door in a fainting con-
dition. He lay all day in stupor on the
settee where they had placed him; and,
moved with pity, and in some slight
CONSERVATION as to what was to become
of him, and of themselves too, if this
state continued, the household did
what they could for him. Just before
dark he began to murmur broken
iargon of English and foreign tongues,
and took his little black fiddle from his
side, and gave it to Mr.. Brooks with as
impressive an air as if he bestowed a
kingdom; the children looked on, wide
eyed and open-mouthed. Then he died,
and was buried, and nobody ever knew
anything further about him; and the
children twanged the fiddle a while,
and at last It was hung up in the garnet,
and there had been the end of it.
nail; but the children grew in strength
and beauty every day, and made the
house nearly as lively as the ark must
have been in all the forty days before it
rested on Ararat Sometimes the little
fiddle vibrated to their laughter, and
gave it a faint echo from it's hollow
breast, but that was all the share it had
it.
What a cheerful group they were,
Belle and Jessie and Fred and Frank,
and the twins always rolling over each
other, and chuckling as if that were
the freshest joke in the world. They
were just as cheerful when a dozen
years had passed, and the children
were becoming men and women, child
ish boisterousness was becoming high
bred gayety, and the special talent was
developing that belonged to each of
them.
But the general talent of that family
was for charity. They had a genius
for it-a genius, as Mr. Brooks neigh
bors used to say, for turning themselves
out of doors in order to let somebody
in; little house, but the largest you
ever knew, for it held the most-hospit-
able to rich and poor, the wayfarer never
leaving it unrefreshed, the sufferer I'M
comforted.
Yet the means to do SO much were
but limited Mr.. Brooks had but a
small income; Mr.. Brooks found it
necessary to count every penny twice
over, to turn and piece and remake,
and never waste a crumb. But, when
that was all done, there was always
something left for the widow and the
fatherless; and the moment there was
ANYTHING to do, either for North street
or Five Points or Borrioboola, Mrs.
Brooks door was the one first raped
at. And what vivid interest it was
that was taken throughout that house
in every case that came up, from the
time the little bright heads could clus-
ter together, the little fingers hold
needle, the little legs run an errand!
You could never see a prettier sight
than those bright heads, those glowing
faces, those plying eyes. my bunch
of blossoms" Mr.. Brooks used to call
them, and say they gave their honey tc
every bee that yagabondized about
them. And by and by, when Belle was
eighteen, and Jessie just turning six
teen, and the rest coming on, this same
sympathy with all suffering was as ac-
tive as of old; and Jessie's lovely face
seemed every day to grow lovelier with
the melting tenderness she felt to every
one that Deeded gentle word or deed,
and when she sang her songs in the
evening, the trait seemed somehow IL
have strained itself through the rich