The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1879-12-27

(
that of Aaron Ashermayer, who sits by
CRATE, residing. His book, a Hebrew
volume black with age, he holds far in
front of his eyes, which glisten through
his spectacles like cats,
Aaron face is pleasing one to study.
1t Is thoroughly Jewish face, broad
short and f)rid. The nose is large, and
enjoys the traditional hawk-like bend
The forehead is that of a scholar-wide
and not high. Despite ford mustache
and long, frouzy beard, the mouth sug.
gests an easy-going temper, almost
placid. The pawnbroker was evidently
extracting solid enjoyment from his
pipe, his book and the fire, in the heat OF
which his large slippered feet basked
contentedly, for he did not hear the
door open.
Good evening, Aaron" said a young
voice from the gloom, followed second
later by the appearance within range Of
the light of tall youth, with long black
hair like Romeo.
Hello" answered Aaron. "Draw
up by the fire. 1t has grown cold since
Shutdown" Then, after moments
pause" Well, how's the fiddle? Has
1t paid for its meals to-day. 1 heard it
up stairs while ago."
1T has not been so very good a day.
loo much hurry on the streets. No one
had time for the music. No, there was
not much money to-day-not much
The holy days bring Paul Laboski luck
never. But who caresY' and the
young Pole snapped his long, thin
fingers at the CRATE good humoredly, and
showed his teeth in q cheerful smile.
He pronounced his name Powl, and
wore miniature of Kosciuszko in his
watch cover. Aaron regarded him as
very superior young man.
The latter had poured out two glasses
OF wine, slipped one slowly, and resumed
his reading. Paul sat studying the Goals.
The smile with which he had defied the
holidays froWns had vanished, and in
It's place rested a meditative, almost
solemn look, All al once he turned to
Aaron;
" The poor child up the stairs has luck
very much worse. No time of the year
brings to her fortune"
"Drink your Sauterne. What do you
speak of? What poor child?"
Why, he little Josephine, the laun-
dress. When | have returned from
parties at 0ne-two o'clock in the morn
ing, [ have seen the light in her room
burning, and watched her shadow
working"
" thought she had gone. Has she
been in the house ever since her mother
died? | haven't seen her in months"
" Ever since. She has made much
effort TO keep her mothers business.
To me she said once: Some of the
ladies know not my mother is dead. fl
do the work so it shall please, am | wrong
to tell them not? They might think |
was OF size too small l told her she
did no wrong"
The old Jew said nothing. He kept
his eyes fixed upon the black characters
before him, but they saw nothing
Aaron was a charitable man, and this
chilling glimpse of childish poverty
panied him.
YES" continued Paul, chow should
L complain myself when see her? She
works very hard, but she gets ahead not
one STEP"
"But you say she has plenty to do"
g All, yes, but also plenty to pay. Her
mother was in debt much"
Aaron put aside his book, and took of
his big glasses. Then he drank MS Wis
TORS wine mechanically, looking him
In the face meanwhile.
So you tell me child not yet in her
teens works at washing and ironing, and
supports herself, and pays for two rooms,
and is paying the debt of the dead into
the bargain-and you expect ME to be-
Iieve this? Herr Powl, you compose
very beautiful poems on your violin. |
enjoy them. That is all right. Do not
make them with your tongue to me.
Perhaps they are equally good. | do
not like them. [ am TOO old"
Aaron took up his book, and donned
his spectacles with au air Of vexation,
He was not angry, but ne disliked exag-
| gerati0n.
"No, truly" urged Paul, "this is no
fantasia. The girl does really all this /
tell you. 1t is Gods truth. And it was
to speak of her that | come here. | was
in her room this evening for some time.
| Very much she loves to hear my violin.
Her eyes shine like stars for my violin.
It's delight to play to them. And
when l stop, she, the little one, talks to
me. Other times she is quite quiet.
But she is very old in her head. This
evening SLAC dohCu ulC-SdI you " HGL SILT
asked me!
Chow should l know" The pawn
broker laid his Talmud down, this time
for good.
"She asked of me what l would ike
most of all for the Christmas?"
"Humph!"
Yes, so strange, was it mott"
Every strange. What did you tell
| herr"
"Why, l said | wanted nothing, ex
cept the glorious Bonnet at the Athe-
n@um, or a steam yacht, or such things.
But she stuck to the question. Mister
Powl, she said to me, l choose to make
you present. love your music very
much How like you this? and she
went into the closet where her bed is,
back of the stove, and brought to me q
silver ring. This was mammals she
SAID to me. viii you take it? l have
many other things of hers. This | want
to give to you. could think of nothing
else And here it is"
Paul held up his left hand. On the
slender little finger, that magician which
drew such wonde fnl throbbings from
the fretted strings, was the ring-a
modest, lustreless circlet of plain silver.
81 have taken things like that for
eighteen cents" remarked the pawn
broker, calmly. But there is something
glistening in his honest eyes almost like
tears.
eyes" kept on Paul, not unmoved
| bI,,Salf g took her riFt How shnu ld