Nebraska advertiser., 1876-09-07

"Oh, no, indeed, sir ~ cried Char
ley, eagerly. "She has been talkinj
to amuse me; but fear have beel
very stupid"
Stupid BAIL What can a mai
be but stupid who has just risen from
a sick-bed A.? Why, man, there is n
blood in your body to animate you
brain fl hear any more such non
sense, shah send you back to you
bed room for a week. We will talk
you shall listen for the present. Nov
let us have a little music something
from Notwithstanding granC
and soothing. something that viii
fall like great calm upon the soul.
Blanche sat down to the piano anC
played the Pastoral Symphony
Charley had once or twice heard tht
piano thumped according to the usua
practice of young ladies, who seem tc
consider that the only method of get
ting music out of that ill-used instru
ment is TO beat 1t until 1t shrieks bu
he had never before heard music aUitI
q soul i's 1t. That glorious harmony
did indeed fall upon him lika a grea
calm.
When the piece was concluded, MI
Lewson said that his patient mus
now go back to his own room but
that If he found him no worse the
next morning for the change, be
should dine with them the following
day. So Charley, somewhat reluctant.
ly, was compelled to take leave.
"What a stupid BOBBY she must
have thought me! !" he said to himself
as he went back to his solitude. 81
could not find a word to say for my
self. What charming creature she
is !" he sighed. He was very
thoughtful during the rest of that
day; and Mrs. Wilkins, when she
came to keep him company in the
evening. could get only random an
swers to her repeated attempts to en-
gage him in conversation,
"Well, Blanche, what do you think
of our patient?" asked Mr.. Lewson.
81 can scarcely tell, papa" she an
swered, muslngiy. HE is gene, and
can scercely speak for nsauUaiS honte. "
THAT is the Engllshman's mala-
dy," replied her father; "but he will
soon cure of that. He is but a boy,
and there is noble stuff in him. /
watched his face while you were
playing that grand Beethoven. All
his soul was in his eyes, and very
beautiful it looked, peering out of
them, called forth by sympathy with
glorious harmony"
Daily, and almost hourly, did Char
ley now gain strength, and soon all
restrictions, except those of early
hours, were removed from his course
of life. Constant intercourse with
Blanche soon cured him of his gene,
and his D1duUdis honte. but not of his
sense Of inferiority to her. What did
be know Of great musciaus-of Mo-
zart, of Haydn, Of MendeIssohn; of
great poets-of Beranger, of Racine,
Of Lamartine, of Byron, or Shelley,
Or Shakspere? His knowledge was
that of sehoolboy, nothing more.
But he set to work to supply his de-
ficiencies. and frequently read in her
favOrite authors until two or three
o'clock in the morning.
Poetry was study congenial to his
mind, and he made rapid progress in
t. How proud he was when he
could converse with Blanche, though
aver so little, upon her pet subjects
when he could do something more
han listen with rapt attention; but
till how far-how, very far he felt
behind herI That thought
would set him to work again harder
han ever.
All. the Elysian happiness of those
lays! What in an after life, however
Happy, could approach it. The soul,
n each a real Psyche, bursting forth
rom the chrysalis state of childhood,
preading forth its tender wings in
he glorious sunshine of a new exist
nee; heaven aud earth all so beauti-
ul; never dreaming of the demon
safety, the ogre that devours love
nd every joy of life, and transforms
ven the golden apples of Hesperides
nto dust and ashes.
Although stepped to the very Hps In
10Th the poetry of sound and of words,
Blanche could not be called sentiment
al. The vivacity and fire of her
blood redeemed her from
uch a disease. Her love of the beau.
lful and the ideal was the spontan-
Gus expression of a fervent, enthusi-
site nature, which finding insuffici-
Mt food in the real world, SCARED into |
he empyrean among the gods in
earch of Ambrosia and Hippocrene.
md Charley caught sparks of her
'romethean fire, and hungered for
CELESTIAL food.
What could come of such an inter
curse as this-of this mutual inter
hange of pathies-of this daily
light from the plain of the world to
be heights of Olympus? The dull
st reader can answer the question
ithout a moments thought. Yes, it
as the old, old story of which poets
nd romancists never weary of writing
nd of which men and women never
re of reading-the old story that be-
an the moment that Eve was first
9vealed to Adams enraptuFed eyes,
I'D will never end until the last s
umpet sounds the death-note of all '
uman passions, and the world of c
ian fades into eternity. 1
And did Mr.. Lewson see ANYTHING J
this? Where was that suhtIa