Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1883-04-18
MalIbran and Little Pierre.

In humble room in one OF the poorest
streets of London, Pierre, faithful French
boy, sat humming by the bedside of his
sick mother. There was no bread in the
closet, and for the whole day he had not
tasted food. Yet he sat humming to keep
up his spirits. Still at times he thought Of
his loneliness and hunger, and he could
scarcely keep the tears from his eyes for
he knew that nothing would be 30 grateful
to his poor mother as good, sweet orange,
and yet he had not penny in the world.
The little song he was singing was his
own-one he had composed, both air and
words--for the child was genius.
He went to the window, and looking out
saw man putting up great bill with yel-
low letters, announcing that Madame Mali
bran would sing that night in public.
"Oh, if could only go thought little
Pierre; and then pausing a moment, he
clasped his hands, his eyes lighting with a
new hope. Running to the little stand, he
smoothed his yellow curls, and, taking from
a little box some old stained paper, gave one
eager glance at his mother, who slept, and
ran speedily from the house.
"Who did you say was waiting for me p
said madame to her servant. "I am already
worn out with company"
"Its only a very pretty little boy, with
yellow curls who said if he can just see you
he is sure you will NOT be sorry, and he will
not keep you moment"
"Oh, we'll, let him come" said the beauti-
full singer, with. a smile, 81 can never refuse
children"
Little Pierre came in, his hat under his
arm and in his hand a little roll of paper.
With manliness unusual far child, he
walked straight to the lady, and bowing,
said, al came to see you because my mother
is very sick and we are too poor to get food
and medicine. I thought, perhaps, that il
you would sing my little song at some Of
your grand concerts, maybe some publisher
would buy 1t for small sum, and 80 could
get food and medicine for my mother"
The beautiful woman arose from her
seat. Very tall and stately she was. She
took the roll from his hand and lightly
hummed the air.
"Did sou compose it I" she asked "you
child And the words Would you
like to come to my concert ?" she asked.
"Oh, yes |" and the boys eyes grew bright
with happiness "but I couldn't leave my
mother"
81 will send somebody to take care OF
crown with which you may go and get food
and medicine. Here is, also, one of my
tickets. Come tonight; that will admit
you TO a seat near me.
Almost beside himself with joy, Pierre
bought some oranges, and many little lux
ury besides, and carried them home to the
poor invalid, telling her, not without tears,
Of his good fortune.
When evening came and Pierre was ad-
mitted to the concert hall, he felt that never
in his life had he been in 80 great place.
The music, the myriad lights, the beauty,
the flashing of diamonds, and rustling Of
silk bewildered his eyes and brain.
At glance she came, and the child sat
with his glance riveted on her glorious face.
Could he believe that the grand lady, all
blazing with jewels, and whom everybody
seemed to worship, would really sing his
little song?
Breathless he waited-the band, the whole
band struck up plaintive little melody.
He knew it, and clasped his hands for joy.
And oh, how she sang 1t 1t was 80 simple,
so mournful Many a bright eye dimmed
with tears, and naught could be heard but
the touching words of that little song-oh,
go touching
flerr6 walked nome as II ne were moving
on the air.
What cared he for money now? The
greatest singer in all Europe had sung his
little song, and thousands had wept at his
grief
The next day he was frightened at a visit
from Madame Malibran. She laid her hands
on his yellow curls, and, turning to the
sick woman, said "Your little boy,
madame, has brought you fortune. | was
offered this morning by the best publisher
in London, $500 for his little song, and after
he has realized a certain amount from the
SALE little Pierre, here is to share the profits.
Madame, thank God that your son has a gift
from heaven
The noble-hearted singer and the poor
woman wept together. As to Pierre, always
mindful of him who watches over the tried
and tempted, he knelt down by his mothers
bedside and uttered q simple but eloquent
prayer asking Coda blessing ON the kind
lady who had deigned to notice their afflic-
ton.
The memory Of that prayer made the
singer more tender-hearted, and she who
was the idol of England's nobility went
about doing good. Aud in her early, happy
death, he who stood beside her bed and
smoothed her pillow and lightened her last
moments by his undying affection was little
Pierre of former days, now rich. accom-
plished, and the most talented composer of
the day.-Christian World.