The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1884-02-28

paper, as the ideas of melody and har-
monY canIe To the brain faster than the
hand cohld Iegister them. = s
That morning there was soft ia p at
the door, and when Giuseppe opened it
there stood Lottchen. 4s.l
My Carl! My brave 'Car1!' she
cried. ''Oh, n7etster! why did you keep
this from me?" -
The mus cian silenced her with a gest-
ure and pointed TO the bed. With a
knelt beside her wounded and uncOn-
:ious lover.
"He does not know me-his Bottchen,
who loves him so much!' she sobbed.
"Oh, FuselIiy will he die? Tell me
that he will soon be well and strong
again--my own Carl'' .2t1 q
mo" said the old man, che will not
die. The worst is oyer now, and we
shall soon give him back to you again.
THANK the dear God fer that" said
the g.rl, J.ously. And the prizes that
Carl so surely would have. WOn-ah,
now 1t will be too late. How grieved
he will be-! We must wait now for
another year-Carl and |.
edo not fear. l will send the score
to the Judges. There is but page or
two to add. and it shall be sent in am
pie time, l promise you. - ~ i-t.-
Glow good you, are, dear FpselIil
Carl and | will always bless you, and
every night l will remember you in my
prayers;' and with Il parting kiss upon
her betrothed pale face, Lottchen de-
parted. Her heart was light and her
face smiling and happy, for was not
Carl to be well soon, and his symphony
to be finished, too? All! that world
surely Wini --.---.-.-
Another day and evening the old man
watched his patient and worked ut his
labor of love and gratitude. Then he
laid down his pen and said softly!
7 '"Chere. my Carl; your symphony is
finished and in tiIne-in ample timen
He went to the piano and played the
| beautiful work through to the end.
When its last strains died away, he.
was tempted sOrely to break his resOlu-
ton and to try for the prize in his own
behalf; but the thought flashed only an
instant through his mind and was ban
ished by a weak voice which asked:
" What-w hat-music- that? What
a divine compositionn' -- -. 49,
. 1t is your own, my boY;'T answered
Fuselli. Your Siegfried' symphony.
| was just about to send it to the Judges.
May you have the fortune to Winn'
"Ah! 1 remember" said Carl; and
he really thought the music his own,
half forgotten in his fever and delirium.
But a few days had passed when
packet with pOrtentous seals and inn
posing exterior was left for Herr Carl
Werther. 1t was letter telling him
that his ''Siegfried'' symphony was
the composition to which the Judges
unanimously awarded the grand prize
the medal and the purse. The Emperor
had heard the symphony and was en-
thusiastic in its praise. The art world
of Berlin talked of nothing but the
triumph Of the new aspirant. ~
g" A German undoubtedly; and vet the
music of 'Siegfried is thoroughly
Italian"
So said q brother musician to Giuseppe.
But the old man kept his secret, looking
at Lottchen and Carl in their new-fOund
happiness, and saying to himself: . 1t is
for their sakes. l am content. -
49,
One morning there was a knock at
the street-door of Giuseppe's lodging,
and a letter was handed to the good
dame who responded.
For Giuseppe buselH,n said the
messenger. -.
.'Ah! 1 will take it to him." ex-
Y
| take her morning lesson, and she
bounded lightly up the stairs, hoping
that she might be the bearer of good
news.
She knocked twice. There was no
answer. So she entered the poor little
room
Fuselli was reclining over his piano,
his face buried in lis hands. She
touched him gently on the shoulder.
/ There was no response. One hand fell
/ limp and heavy to his side, disclosing
/ his face, and the young gii1Akne that
F.! she stood in the presence of death. He
/ who had aspired so grandly, whose
/ talents the world had refused to own,
was far from the strife for fame, which
with him had been changed to a struggle
/ for existence. -t-s .-
Lottchen tore open the envelope
! The letter was a brief one, and it was
! signed by the Herr Director of the
Royal Opera House. 1t read:
Giuseppe Fuselli: Werther has re-
signed because of the success of his
/ work. Your playing has always been
/ satisfactory, and this is to. inform you
that YOU will hereafter play first
violin" -
But it came too late. The old piano
had whispered for the last time:
Peace, desolate old heart; forget the
cross that thou has borne so long; think
of the crown that waits thee. Heaven
is very near thee now, and there thou
and thy Ninetta shall be Young
againr Harry b. Smith, an Chicago
/ Current.