The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1876-11-16
ONLY A SONG.

| 11oiOheSg "AN Ae-NA - AsN-
family and a small income, hired the
upper story of large building in Paris,
and to reduce his rent, underlet room
to young Monsieur Fernando, the mu-
sical composer, of whose compositions no
one had yet heard anything.
1t was little narrow room, with one
very high window, but it had this ad-
vantage: Out of this window one could,
at the risk of breaking ones neck, catch
glimpse of the beautiful prima donna.
Mile. La c., as she famed herself on
the balcony of the first floor. For this
sensible reason had Monsieur Fernando
hired the apartment.
He was dreadfully in love with her,
though they had never spoken to each
other, and he fcndly and falsely believed
she knew he had thrown her bouquets,
and had given him special thanks for
them as she held them to her pretty chin
and bowed her pretty head for them, and
smiled with the beaming smile OF actress
upon the audience.
IF ever he made his name and fortune,
then she should know; but not until
then. So he loved on in silence, and
worked at his compositions, and offered
them to publishers, and had them de-
clined "with thanks"
Now and then, of course, he sold a
song, but the songs did not become popu-
lar, and he must have starved to death,
but, that he now and then played on the
piano for some dancing party. At the
best he lived on bread, coffee, and little
soup.
In his room he had an old piano, a
desk, chair, meerschaum, and little
charcoal furnace. When he had five
francs in his pocket, and it was not rent
day, he felt rich.
Mile. La c. had every luxurious
lounge and couch to be bought for money.
She lavished gold on her friends, her
self, Oh her pet poodle, on the beggars
who held out their crooked hands and
showed their distorted faces at the door
of the house, as she tripped from it to the
carriage.
They said she had been peasant girl,
whose sweet voice, as she sung at the
door of a little hut had caught the ear of
a wealthy music worshiper, who had
her taught in consequence. They tell
such stories of so many prima donnas.
No one would have guessed from her
manner now thatshe ever knew the value
of a sou. Yet with all this extravaganza
she was growing rich, and could make a
little fortune in night.
Young, beautiful, adored, who could
be happier? And yet, though she could
sing 50 divinely, she could not have COM
posed one of those little songs written in
the garrett over her head to save her
bright young life. Each one was gem,
and probably M. Fernando knew it, for
genius ought to know its own work.
Still, rattling marches, waltzes that
were the same thing over again, and bits
from well-known operas twisted into gal
lops, sold; while his little songs lay neg
lected on the counter, and others never
reached the counter at all, being scorned
from the first by publishers with no mu-
sic in their souls, however much there
may have been in their shops.
If, indeed, some well-known singer
would have sung one of them-Mlle. La
c., for instance-then there might
have been a change. The thought crept
into poor Fernande's heart by degrees !;
at last it strengthened into resolve; !;
but it must be the best of all that he
should lay before his idol, the very best
nothing else would do.
So he wrote in his attic room, the poor
composer, and below the happy song
bird trilled her song, and laughed, and
chatted, and was carelessly generous, and
never even knew OF his existence, who
evening after evening watched her, list
ened to her, envied the men who had
the right to sit beside her, hold her fan,
perhaps-whok knew?-her hand also; the
men, one of whom might one day be her
favored lover. And she enjoyed her
happy, butterfly existence and knew
nothing about him.
At last, in fit of romantic influence,
our composer turned. poet. He wrote
the words of a song which he called
cloves Dying Dream" and he fitted it
to music so sweet, so gentle, that, playing
upon the old piano, he knew it to be the
best he had ever done-the bright, par
ticular gem fit to lay before his lady.
He copied it out daintily; he wrote
note with the signature of An Ad-
mirer," and resolved to leave it at her
door and await the result.
eff should only hear her sing it, i
should be so happy" he said to himself,
ri should be willing to die"
What strange things we say sometimes!
Did you ever say anything, not quite
] meaning it, that afterward proved itseli