Weekly Trinity journal., 1879-06-28
ONLY A SONG.

upper moor OF large oullulus Ill aTis,
and to reduce his rent, underlet room
to Monsieur Fernando, the musical com
poser, of whose compositions no one had
vet heard anything.
1t was little narrow room, with one
very high window, but |: had this ad-
vantage, out of this window one could,
at the risk of breaking ones neck, catch
a glimpse of the beautiful prima donna,
Mdlle 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 thcy had never spoken to each
other, and he fondly and falsely believed
she knew he had thrown her boquets and
had given him special thanks for them rs
she held them against her pretty chin,
and bowed her pretty head for them, and
smiled with the beaming smile of an act.
ress 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 declin-
ed with thanks
Now and then, of course, he sold a
song but the song 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. mcerschaum, and little charcoal
furnace. When he had I've francs in his
pocket and it was not rent day he felt
rich.
Mdlle La Chad every luxurious
lounge and coach to DO bought for money
She lavished gold on her friends, herself,
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 1t to the car
riage.
They said she had been peasant girl,
whore sweet voice as she stood singing
at the door of u little hut, had caught the
ear Of n wealthy music worshipper, who
had her taught in consequence. They
tell such stories ofse many prima donnas.
No one would have guessed from her
manner now that she ever knew the val
ue Of a sou. Yet with ell this extrava-
gance she was growing rich, and could
make little fortune in a night.
Young, beautiful, adored, who could be
happier ? And yet, though she could sing
so divinely, she could not have composed
one of those little songs which were writ.
ZEN in the garret over her head to save
her bright young life. Each one was a
gem, and probably NJ. Ferns nde 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 music
in their soult, however much there III light
have been in their shops.
If, indeed, some well-known singer
would have sung one OF them Mdlle La
c., for .nstance-then there might
have been change. The thought crept
into poor Fernande's heart by degrees |;
at last IL strengthened into resolve but
il must DO the best Of all that he should
lay before his idol, the very best-noth.
ing else would do.
SO he wrote in his attic room, the poor
composer, and below. the happy song
bird triled her song, and laughed and
chatted, and was carelessly generous, and
never even knew Of his existence, who,
evening after evening watched her listen
ed to her, envied the man who had q
right TO sit beside her, hold her fan, per-
haps- who knew-her hand also the
men, one OF whom might one day be her
favored lover. And she enjoyed her hap.
py. butterfly existence, and knew nothing
about him.
At last, In q fl of romantic influence,
our composer turned poet. He wrote the
words OF a song called loves Dying
Dream and he fitted 1t to an air so sweet,
SO gentle, that, playing upon the old
piano, he knew 1t to be the best of III that
he had ever done-the bright particular
gem fit to lay before his lady.
He copied it out daintily; he wrote u
note with the signature Of An Admirer,
and resolved to lay it at her door and
wait the result.
If should even hear her sing it l
should be SO happy, he said to himself,
should be willing to die
What strange things we say sometimes !
Did you ever say anything, not quite
meaning it, that afterward proved itself
true, though not as -ou intended it l
have. And one morning lie said
'Te day I will do 1t ; and with these
words left the room.
He ran down stairs with precious par
eel in his hand, and stood before the door
that led to Mdllo La C-'s suit OF
rooms with palpitating heart. He had
intended to knock and leave the parcel
with servant, but, now unfortunate
the'door stood open. He would steal in
and put the music upon the table. He
crept in he laid the parcel down softly
hut as he did so, his eyes fell upon min
iature. 1t was a portrait OF his divinity
herself, and it was set in costly gems
These he neither noticed nor cared for.