The Manitowoc tribune. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1866-1878, 1878-01-31

NicoIo's Friend.
"Nicolo, Nicolo, where are yous
Were have you hidden YOURSELF Come
here; [ want you"
Itwas very bright eyed little girl who
spoke these words-under a bright sky,
toe-the sunny sky of Italy.
But Nicolo, a boy some years older
than herself, looked far from bright or
happy; he was lying full length on the
ground in the sunlight but his face
wos overcast and melancholy.
"Lazy fellow p said little Gianetta,
laughingly, as she came up to him; 81
am out of breath calling to you. Come
along 1 want you. Mother has done
with me, and we can make some uusic
together"
But Nicolo shook his head, though he
smiled at his little friend.
"What is it ?" asked Gianetta. "Why
can't yofl Gomez Is it the father again ?''
Nicolo sighed. He was a cheerful,
happy-tempered boy by nature. And
yet Giane.ta often found him looking
very sad: 49,, -, ,
the little girl but no. Stop; will say
no wicked things of him, for he is your
father and we must honor our parents,
be they bad or good, Father Clement
says. But tell me, Nieolo, what has he
said or done ?"
" 1t is nothing" said Nicolo, rousing
himself at length" nothing, my little
old tale he likes not my music-tlinks
it an excuse for idleness. Listen, little
one. / make my plans now. I cannot
hao r \ l.
learn trade or somewhat, and give up
my VIOLIN
"That you never shall do" said Gia-
Meta, earnestly. "You think me
naughty, Nicolo; but I am not. I only
see it palmer than you or your father.
God has given you this talent great
one-and you shall not hide it, you shall
not bury it" This little girls face was
SO eager that Nicolo smiled at her.
But she went on, excitedly:
"Get up this moment, Nicolo, ard
come in with me. We will play some
what together. Your father never scolds
you when am by. And you shall not
give up your music.
The boy, half In earnest, and half
amused, let the child drag him into a
little house near, put his violin into his
arms, and then seated herself at the pi-
ano, while in the distance sat NicoIo's
father, gloomily watching the pair.
Begin" said Gianetta, and tell me
when play wrongly"
But for such a mere child, Gianetta
played with marvellous correctness. AS
for Nlcolo, his countenance cleared with
every sound that he drew from his be-
loved violin; he forgot his gloomy father:
be thought no longer of his dull sad
home. He was wrapped in that wonder
full content which the possession of some
great talent gives.
With the last chord the brightness
faded, however, out of his face
Take me home now" said the little
girl.
Home was only across the street; but
Gianetta wanted another word in private
with her friend.
Nicolo," she said, gravely, "never
speak more of giving up the music; it is
not to be. l am sorry for You, my poor
boy; know it is hard life, but
But [ will make name for myself
at last" said Nicolo, catching her enthu-
siasm; . and then, perhaps, my father
will have faith in me. Till then will
be brave, little one; SO good night
1t was hard life for Nicolo-his mo-
Their dead, his father with no care for his
cons one great passion-mueic. Many
tue the boys spirit failed, and he even
grew to doubt his own powers under the
cold glance and cruel taunts which daily
met him,
He was sitting one day, feeling even
sadder than ual-discontented even
with the sounds he drew from his 1nstrr1-
ment-when Gianetta's mother stood in
the doorway.
1.-The child is ILL., she said hurriedly-
very i'll, and calls ever for Won.
Come.
So Nicolo went, and, though tossed
with fever, his little friend smiled on
him. There WAS, however, a longing
look IN her eyes; but her parched lips
could not form word.
Is it the violin ?" asked Nicolo
softly.
She smiled again, and Nicolo fetched
his treasure
A sleeping song ?" he questioned.
The little face grew calm and soft at
his question. Sweetly the music fioated
through the room, sitting the little suf-
ferer, and comforting the watchers.
When he he'd finished, Gianetta stretched
out her arms.
"Thank you, dear Nicolo," she said:
/" that was pleasant Now 1 shall sleep:
but you must never sleep; Won have
much else to do; you must go ont into
the world, and be famous--ge away far,
far from here. Do you mind my words
VIII you remember them2'
And she lay back exhausted on her
pillow, never more to ask for music in
this world. Gianetta was listening even
then to the angels song.
That night Nicolo sat beside the dead
body of his little friend. Lights burned,
flowers were scattered round her, and
prayers were said without ceasing in all
these long hours. 1t was the custom of
the country; it did not disturb the dead,
and it comforted the living.
And when morning dawned the friend
less boy went back TO his little room
across the road, and there he poured out
his heart IN a farewell strain to his dear
companion who had thus suddenly been
snatched from him
There was no more now to be done but
to fulfil her last command TO go out
into the world, and to make himself
famous.
Did he do so?
ak those who love music, and hold
ea all great names in its roll of fame,