Wilmington daily commercial., 1875-07-31

| ''iSios M otohut usuhlf Vi hil Olu
house-trunks, broken chairs, superannuated
chest Of drawers, spinning cobwebs.
Years and years ago tramp had been taken
in at the door in n faintng condition. He lay
| all day in stupor on the settee where they had
| placed him and, moved with pity, and in some
| slight CONSERVATION to what was to become OF
| him and OF themselves too, il this state con-
| timed, the household did what they could for
| him. just before dark he began 10 nilrmur a
| broken jargon 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 il he bestowed kingdom, the children look
ing 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 eddie awhile, and at last it was
hung up i'll the garrett, and there had been the
end of 1t.
The little fiddle hung forgotten on ita nail :
but the children grew i'll 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 e
faint echo from its hollow breast but that was
all the hhare il had in it.
What a cheerful group they were, Belle and
Jessie and Fred and Frank, and the twins a-
ways rolling over each other, and clucblng M If
that were the freshest joke i'll the world. They
wore just AZ cheerful when a dozen years had
passed, and the children were becoming men and
women childish boisterousness was becoming
| ligh-bred gaiety and the special talent was de.
velop!Dg that belonged to each OF them.
but the general talent of that family was for
charity They had genius for it-a genius, al
Mrs. Brooks neighbors used to say-for turning
themselves out OF doors III order to let somebody
else in little house, but the largest you ever
knew, for it held the most-hospitabe to rich
and poor, the wayfarer never leaving it unre-
| freshed the sufferer uncontrolled.
Yet the means to do so much were but limit
ed. Mr.. Brooks had but small income; lIrs.
Brooks found it neces sary to count every penny
| twice over, to turn and piece and re-make, and
never TO waste crumb But, when that was
all done, there WAS always something left for the
widow and fatherless; and the moment there was
anything to do, either for North Street or the
| Five Points or Borrioboola, Mrs. Brooks door
was the one first raped at And what vivid
| interest il was that taken throughout that
house in every case that came up, from tho time
the little bright heads could cluster together, the
little fingers hold needle tho little legs run an
errand You could never ses a prettier sight
than those bright heads those glowing faces
those pitying eyes. g My bunch OF blossoms" f"
Mr.. Brooks used to call them, and say they gave
their honey to every bee that vagabondized about
| them. And by-and-by, whom Belle was eighteen,
and Jessie just turning sixteen, and the rest COM
ing on, this Same sympathy with all suffering was
HI active as of old; and Jesses lovely face seem-
ed every day to grow lovelier with the melting
tenderness she felt to every one that needed
gentle word or deed, and when she sang her songs
III the evening, the trait seemed somehow to have
| strained itself through the rich sweet tones Of
her voice, and to make the hearers heart respond
| TO its touch and always till his eyes with tears.
=" Our Jessie" the father used 10 say, ought
to have different instruction with that voice. II
| YOU had not been such SandemaiDn wife, all
| your life, We should have laid by enough to send
| her to Italy and have her Voice cultivated II
should be-"
We'll, dear, would you throw away all yailr
pleasant memories Of pain relieved and ali tho
| benefit 1t has wrought the chldrens character,
| and take it out in music 2" his wfo would ask
II should like to have Jesse's voice attended
| to; but bless you. il might 10 her more hHrm
| than good.
| " Harm = said Belle once, az they talked it
| over.
. Yes dear; We all have our yaities, and to
| nurse ones PRIDE"
" OH, mamma, bnt to stand up and lift IA tlou-
sand people on yonr voice if 1t were wings for
| them Think of that or the delight she could
| give 20 many, and then OF the fortune she could
| make and tho things she could do We would
| haye that chidrens hospital, and"
| " Very true" sighed Mrs. Brooks.
| "yery true, sighed her husband at would
| take fifteen hundred dollars to send Jessie to It.
ally. She would be too old to have it do her
| voice any good by the time could got 30 much
| together" And just there came IN the minis
ter's wife to see about the concert she was got.
ting up for the benefit OF the poor DeMaurice
| children, whose parents--lately organist and so
| prano in the little chnrch-wero lost in tho Ic
| stroyer OH their way to Europe for come pur-
pose, at which concert Jessie was to sing song
| il sho could find the courage.
| "You needn't DO afraid, Jessie" said the good
minister's wife "there's nobody in tho audi
| ence knows a note more music than You do"
"Oh, but he will-the violinist. you know and
| Madame Reuter-, il she comes-"
"She's coming. We're to pay expenses. And
| she represented the case to Sgnor Pazzani, and
| told him they were the children OF musicians,
\ and he volunteered. 1t was too good of linn
| They're to stay with me-.
| "Oh, not both OF them Mrs King ones
enough with all your care. Send one here"
| said Mrs. Brooks.
"Wel, should be glad to, really. III send
you the signor. Now. Jessie, sing THE harp
that once through Tara's halls, just M If you
| were on the platform. and we We're all down on
| the seats before you.
| And 80 Jessie sang it, and her voice swelled
out as If young sbyl sang, with the words,
| Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes
The only throh she given
| Is when some heart Indignant breaks,
| To show that still She hves"
| And the minister wife cried and went home.
Ono afternoon next week Madame Reuter-
came down, and Mis-. King brought tho Signor
Pazzani into the Brookses' parlor, and left him.
| 1t was not much preparation the Brookses had
been able to make for their distinguished guest
they could only I'LL his room TO ofefnowlng VIII
Bellies flowers, that grew and blossoned in ev-
| cry window the winter long. As for their table,
it was always miracle OF snow and silver and
parsley trimmed dishes, and it WAS impossible
for them to make much difference. They found,
though, that 1t was of no consequence, for the
signor was Indifferent to every thing but bread
and fruit and salad, and presently looked about
him for the young lady who was to sing. "You
are shs,' he said presently, to Jessie, and be-
gan talking with her. about her music while he
orumbled his bread. But it WAS not till some
hours after they loft the table That he came
down from his room and demanded to hear what
size could do.
Poor Jessie had no more idea Of hesitating OF
refusing than if an angel Of annunciation bad
appeared and bidden her. She went Instantly tc
the piano. though Belle ran before her to play
the accompaniment. Belle had to play the pre-
lude twice over, though, before Jessie could
command her voice and in the first measures II
trembled 80 that she was afraid she would have
to stop, and she was pale as death Courage
courage, my child" cried the signor, and she
, took a little and went on and soon she forgo
! the signor and her fright, and WAS singing as
freely az q bird in the wild wood. " 1t is grand
it is delicious y cried the sgnor, in his OWL
tongue, which Jessie and Belle understood tol
erably. at is voice in n Thousand. In /
thousand voice in millions F! 1t s tho night
ingales and it must haye care, study, training
Italy"
Jessie shook her head, and felt very much like