The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1878-01-17
NicOIo's Friend.

"Nicolo, Nicolo, where are you 2
Where have you hidden yourself? Come
lere; [ want you"
1t was a very bright-eyed little girl who
poke these words-under bright sky,
oo-the sunny sky Of Italy.
But Nicolo, a boy some years older
han herself, looked far from bright or
lappy; he was lying full length on the
,rOund in the sunlight; but his face
yos overcast and melancholy.
Lazy fellow r said little Gianetta,
aughingly, as she came up to him; sc I
m out of breath calling to you. Come
long; I want you. Mother has done
With me, and we can make some music
Ogether."
But Nicolo shook his head, though he
miled at his little friend. 3a
"What is it ?" asked Gianetta. "Why
amt yon come? Is it the father again %
Nicolo sighed. He was cheerful,
lappy-tempered boy by nature. And
ret Gianetta often found him looking
cry sad.
g Tiresome, bad man !" broke forth
he little girl; but no. Stop; will say
10 wicked things of him, for he is your
ather and we must honor our parents,
% they bad or good, Father Clement
ays. But tell me, Nicolo, what has he
aid or done ?"
cit is nothing" said Nicolo, rousing
himself at length" nothing, my little
4ianetta but it wearies me. It is the
I'D tale F.; he likes not my music-thinks
an excuse for idleness. Listen. little
me. l make my plans now. I cannot
,ear this life. must do as he wishes
earn trade or somewhat, and give up
ny violin.
"That you never shall do" said Gia-
eta, earnestly. "You think me
aughty, Nicolo; but I am not. [ only
ee it palmer than you or your father.
tod has given you this talent-this great
ne-and you shall not hide it, you shall
OF bury it." This little girls face was
. eager that Nicolo smiled at her.
But she went on, excitedly:
Sect up this moment, Nicolo, and
ome in with me. We will play some
hat together. Your father never scolds
on when / am by. And you shall not
we up your music.
The boy, half in earnest, and hall
nused, let the child drag him into q
tile house near, put his violin into his
ms, and then seated herself at the pi.
10, while in the distance sat Nicolo's
ther, gloomily Watching the pair.
"Begin," said Gianetta, "and tell me
hen 1 play wrongly"
But for such a mere child, Gianette
aged with marvellous correctness. Az
+ Nicolo, his countenance cleared witt
cry sound that he drew from his be-
we'd violin; he forgot his gloomy father
thought no longer of his dull, sac
me. He was wrapped in that wonder
content which the possession Of some
eat talent gives.
With the last chord the brightness,
led, however, out of his face.
"Take me home now," said the little
Il. .
Home was only across the street: bu
anetta wanted another word in pr1vat,
th her friend.
Nicolo," she said, gravely, "neve
eak more of giving up the music; it il
t to be. | am sorry for you, my poo
y; know it is hard life, but
So But l will make name for mysel
last" said Nicolo, catching her enthu
SIN; "and then, perhaps, my fathe
II have faith In me. Till then vii
brave, little one; so good night
1t was hard life for Nicolo-his mo
Or dead, his father with no care for hi
rs one great passion-music. Man
line the boys spirit failed, and he eve
ew to doubt his own powers under TIL
Id glance and cruel taunts which dali
et him.
he was sitting one day, feeling eve,
oder than al-discontented eve
tn the sounds he drew from his instru
9nt-when Gianetta's mother stood i
doorway.
"The child isill, " she said hurriedly-
very i'll, and calls ever for you
)me."
So Nicolo went, and, though tosse
Ith fever, his little friend smiled O
y m. There was, however, a longin
ok in her eyes; but her parched lip
)uld not form word.