Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1883-04-26
A SINGING LARK.

|
"Bad news, eh ?" said Mr.. Halcroft, the
junior clerk in the drug store, as Bruce Bon
nington crumpled up a letter and flung it,
with an expression OF veXahOn, into the
waste-paper basket.
"Not especially,n said Mr.. bennington,
resuming his original occupation of COM
pounding "Our Choicest German Cologne" !"
until such time as the entrance of acustomer
should call him to some more congenlal
business. But as he mixed the nerOli and
lavender, the essence of bergamOt and the
faint soupcon of musk, his thoughts were
not of the calmest or most enviable nature.
"Oh, come now," he argued, within him
self, ''this is little too much! After all
that I've boasted about my uncle Sigismond,
to have him coming over in the steerage,
and looking out for employment like any OF
the tlaXen-haired louts who come to this
country because they can't earn their living
in any other. He's not a gentleman, after
all, he's only a common laborer. And my
poor mothers legends about Castle Zohn
and the rich relatives over in Bavaria must
have been all imagination. Pm glad l
didn't engage those rooms at the Estradurg
| Hotel for him. Pm glad I didn't carry out
nv plans for a welcoming breakfast when
the "Royal Hildegarde" came in, with all
nv stylish friends invited. What would
they have said to round-shouldered old ar
tisan, creeping out of the steerage? But |
suppose, for all that, must 60 down to the
docks and meet him as soon as the "Royal
Hildegarde" is telegraphed from Sandy
Hook. He'll be coming after me, else, and
that would never do"
Bruce bennington was at the pier that
rainly, drizzly Monday morning, when the
hull of the 'Royal Hildegarde" loomed
liked some mighty, underlined shadow out OF
the fog. Nor was he in any more genial
mood because his hal. was spoiled, and the
yapOrous mist seemed creeping into his very
bones. He stood superciliously aside as the
wretched throng trooped past him, with
children in their arms, bundles strapped
upon their backs, and tin plates and mugs
in their hands, until, at last, a ashreWd-faced,
broWn-skinned old man, with his own bun
die balanced on his STOPPING shoulders,
paused in front of him.
"Is it my sister Gretchen'sson ~ said he.
81 am Bruce Bennington" said the drug
gist's clerk, ungraciousy enough.
\ sort of sob came into the old mans
throat. He put out both his claW-like hands.
81 am glad to see thee, Sisters son." said
| he.
For second Bruce bennington thought
that the old man was going to kisshim. In
voluntarily he stepped back.
"Perhaps we'd better get out of the
crowd" said he impatiently.
The sudden light died out of the old man s
face at these words, and he meekly obeyed.
"Well," said Bruce, brusquely, "What
can do for you, sir?"
Old Sigismond Zohn looked silently at
him.
"Because, sir, Pm a little in a hurry"
said Bruce. 81 know of a very respectable
| clearinghouse on Morton Street. Cheap,
you ?"
~ would like a little advice about the
best way of prosecuting my trade," said
| Uncle SigismOnd, in low tone.
| ooh! your trade! You are an artisan,
them"
81 am an artisan. Yes" admitted old
Zohn.
CHI" hesitated Mr. bennington.
81 manufacture musical birds, young sir.
Artificial canaries, nightingales, sky-larks,-
what you will"
ooh 7" said Mr.. bennington again. But
in the brief little monosyllable there was q
word of cOntemptuOuS meaning. what
blessing it is" he mentally added, "that
my mother isn't alive to insist upon taking
this piece Of long-haired antiquity directly
into the family. There would be no use in
a mans aiming at any gentility so long as
he was weighted like this!"
They found old Herr Zohn in a cramped
garret room in the Morton Street boarding
house, where he went diligently to work al
his trade,-and that was the last he saw OF
his nephew.
'He need not fear that | shall obtrude
myself upon him." said Zohn to himself
as he observed that young bennington was
careful to avoid giving him his address
"If fly poor sister had yet lived, If ever
her husband had been alive-ah, that WoulC
have been very different matter. But a:
it is perhaps it is better that l should be
alone!"
All this was very we'll, until one day pool
Herr Zohn fell ill.
"a tormenting old Germanw said Mrs
Crudge, the landlady, who was one OF those
with tempers. GA man as one would al
most suppose had sold himself to the devil
with his queer, skull-cap, and the funny
metal birds that burst out singing if you sc
much as look at 'em! And he don't ea
nothing like other people, but cooks his ode
little messes in an iron skillet over the fire
and drinks only little sour wine. Where
does he suppose lone widow woman!
profits is to come ln?'
"But he seems very good-natured," saio
Mary Tyson, who was cashier in a patterl
bazaar on Broadway. "And he has sucf
nice white teeth when he smiles. I'VE
brought him home twice when found him
wandering in the streets. Poor dear! ne ne
loses his way so easily. 'Ah, your grea
country, meess, your grand country! ne
says. 1T is fine, but it makes a poor man.
head swimH Really, though, he is learn
ing our language very quickly"
HIf you can understand his lingo,"' sale
Mrs. Crudge, snappishly, 81 wish you'd e
up stairs and see him: For he's sick on tina
wretched old leather lounge, with them un
earthly birds perched all around his room
and no more fire than would warm flea !
"Well, I WILL" said Mary Tyson. Poo
man-to think of his being alone and friend
less in strange country like this"
So she went up to prepare little cruel To-
the poor old Herr, to warm his cold coffee
over the modcum of fire which had so in
jured Mrs. Crudge's feelings for, be it know
She furnished coal at not more than quadru
pie the ton price to her dodgers and board