Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1875-08-05

" Our Jessie the father used to saw
Ought to have different instruction with
that voice. If you hadn't been such a
Sandemanian, wife, all your life, we
should have laid by enough to send her to
| Italy and have her voice cultivated as if
| should be-
Well, dear, would you throw away all
your pleasant memories of pain relieved
and all the benefit it has wrought the chill
dren's characters, and take it out in mn
| slc?" his wife would ask "Ishould like
to have Jessie's voice attended to: but.
bless you, it might do her more harm than
good''
Harm!'' said Belle once, as they talked
| it over
Yes, dear; we all have our vanities.
and to nurse ones pride -
Oh, mamma, but to stand UP and lift a
thousand people on your voice as if it
were wings for theml Think of that! Of
| the delight she could give so many, and
then of the fortune she could make and the
| things she could do! We would have that
CHI1uIeu , uOSplIdl, and
Very true" sighed Mrs. Brooks
Very true" sighed her husband. at
would take 81 800 to send Jessie to Italy
She would be too old to have it do her
voice any good by the time | could get so
much together And just there came in
the minister's wife to see about the con-
cert she was getting up for the benefit of
the poor De Maurice children,s whose
parents-lately organist and soprano in the
little church-were lost in the DESTROYER on
their way to Europe for some purpose, at
which concert Jessie was to sing song,
if she could find the courage.
You needn't be afraid, Jessie,'' said
the good minister's wife; there's nobody
in the audience knows note more music
than you do"
ooh, but he Will-the violinist, you
know and Nine. Reuter-, if she comes"
"She's coming. We're to pay expenses
And she represented the case to Signor
Pazzani, and told him they were the chill
dren Of musicians, and he volunteered. It
was too good of him They're to stay
with me-"
ooh, not both of them, Mrs. King,
ones enough with all your care. Send
one here,' said Mrs Brooks.
Well, should be glad to, really. I'll
send you the signor. Now, Jessie, sing
The Harp that Once Through Tara's
Halls just as if you were on the platform
and we wer3 all down on the seats before
you" .al
And 50 Jessie sang it, and her voice
swelled out as if a young sybil sang with
the words:
Thus freedom now so seldom wakes
The only throb she gives w..
Is when some heart indignant breaks
To show that still she lives. 21
And the minister's wife cried and went
home -
One afternoon next week Nine Reuter-
came down and Mrs King brought the
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 fill
his room full to overfiowing with Bellies
flowers, that grew and blossomed in every
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 it
was ofno consequence, for the signor was
indifferent TO everything but bread and
fruit and salad, and presently looked
about him for the young lady who was to
sing. You are she,' he said, presently,
to Jessie, and began talking with her
about her music while he crumbled his
bread. But it was not till some hours
after they left the table that he came down
from his room and demanded to hear
what she could do.
Poor Jessie had no more idea of hest
tating or refusing than if an angel of an
nunciation had appeared and hidden her.
She went instantly to the piano, and
Belle ran before her to play the accompa
niment. Belle had to play the prelude
twice over, though, before Jessie
could command her voice; and in the first
measure it trembled so 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 little and
went on; and soon she forgot the signor
and her fright, and was singing as freely
as a bird in the wild wood. q 1t is grand
it is delicious!'' cried the signor, in his
own tongue, which Jessie and Belle under
stood tolerably. II is voice in a thou
sand. In thousand? A voice in mill
ions! 1t is the nightingale's! and it must
have care, study, training-Italyr'
Jessie shook her head, and felt very
much like crying. She knew if she ever
showed the least desire for Italy erfather
would cramp himself, her mother forego
her comforts, the children deny themselves
everything; they would sell the piano.
move into meaner house, live on little,
| give nothing away. She had never init
mated that she thought the thing worth
while. Now she shook her head and
ventured to say in such Italian as she had ::
1T is impossible. Please don't speak of
it; it would only make grief here. But