The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1884-02-29
HIS PROMOTION.

HIS PRUMOTlON.
On certain pleasant moraing. moi
many years ago. stranger in Berlin,
looking from his window upon the
swarm of pleasure-seekers in the streets
would have said: Here is city given
over to the pomps and rsnities. Be.
hold Nation OF butterflies" 1t was q
Jete day in Berlin-the birthday of the
Emperor. Your Berliner is a taciturn
wight in his shop or at his hearthstone,
but at evening in the gardens, where
his beloved German music can gladden.
his heart and copious libations of beer
can loosen MS tongue, he is sociable and
merry enough. At regularly organ
lied fcstivity he appreciates his duty 10
society, and is as light-hearteG as the
volatile Viennese when he listens 10 the
rhythm of a Strauss waltz.
From the gray-headed diplomat. with
the breast al his military coat respleE-
dent with medals and orders. to the pale
street boy, with face shiny from ua-
wonted contact with soap and water,
Berlin's good people are on gayety in
tent. The streets are o mass of CAV col
ors, and music is waited to the ear by
every breath OF wind.
1t has been said thatlife is SO very
serious an atfs + that we should never
miss an opportunity to laugh: but no
maxim is needed 10 bring laughter to
the eyes and lips of the blonde and
buxom f,unteins and their military
swa ms who promenaded SO gavly.
Their laughter is in their hearts. made
glad by the brightness of the sunshine
and by youth and hope and love.
Giuseppe Fuselli Hooks from his attic
window and wonders if in all the gay
city he is che only one in whose heart
there is no lnirth, who can dash away
a tear as he gazes from his lattice,
listening TO the stirring music that
fills the air. he Is Q man past sixty,
whose spare form is clad in garments
that would be tatters but for the
clumsy mending that his own fingers
have DONE, He is handsome old man,
for, despite the haggard features, there
Is mingling of grandeur and poetry
in his face. His ha.r is win te as snow.
his profile clear cut as cameo and his
eyes, black as night and undimmed by
the sorrows of long life. show that he
is no native Of Germania.
Giuseppe Fuselii plays the violin at
the Royal Opera House. 1t is only the
second violin, and he makes but pit
lance, half of which is sent each week
TO sister as poor as himself who is at
home in Italy. The first violinists are
among the merry-ma; ers of the fete,
with money to spare for. the pleasures
OF their sweethearts or wives.
There had been time when
Giuseppe's ambition was as boundless
as the realms of his art. In youth he
had said to himself: my name shall be
-wri ten with an eagles quil upon the
scroll of tame beside the glorious names
of Beethoven and Mozart. My name
shall live and my WORKS shall be i'm
mortal"
Noto' poor Giuseppe was very hum
BILE: be only prayed that the fates
might make him-a first violin.
Ee turned from the window to the
cherries room. dark save for the str .am
of sunlight that came through the lat
tee, but which seemed chary of bestow-
ing itself about SO rncongenial place.
The walls were festooned VITA q gosSa-
mer tapestry that for years the spiders
had been weaving undisturbed. Music
mostly manuscript-was strewn in
confusion upon the floor. and covered
the table and the piano, which was the
musician one treasure.
1t was an old, old piano. yet Giuseppe
had ever found it friend faithful and
true. Long years ago he had mastered
his PIANO. and, with his head thrown
back, his thoughts glowing with visions
of noble future, his fingers woul1
wake songs of love. of passion. of tri-
umph. and he said: .'The piano shall be
my slave. shall be great"
But the years drifted by; and now,
when he was Loo 'ly-and he was SO often
lonely-he would let bis fingers stray
over the keys, and form, as if by their
own will. mild sweet melody. It
sang lament for his lost lie and his
crushed aspirations; it sang a glad an
them of hope. and whispered to Giu-
get the cross that thou hast borne SO
long. Think of the crown that waits
thee. Heaven is very near now. and
there thou and thy Ninetta shall be
young again"
Often as he played. and the music
spoke to his lonely old heart, the tears
would start TO his eyes, he would bury
his face in his hands, and. resting his
head upon the piano, would fall asleep
as If upon the breast of 3 friend.
As Fuselli seated himself at the pia-
no. and his nimble fingers glided rip
plingly over the keys. there was y timid
knock at the door, and he started, Tor
the sound was an unusual one. Then,
as if recollecting. he said. with smile:
-.Ah! it is Lottchen.
He opened the door, and its frame
work inclosed pretty picture, dainty
Little German maid clad i'm white, with |
knot of blue ribbon at her throat. |
and her braids of golden HAIR falling /;
over her shoulders The column of |
sunshine fell d rectly upon her, rs if |
welcoming kindred spirit in this desc
late place.
Good morning. meis,er." she said |
..May have the lesson now, please? /
There is fete to-day, and Carl comes
at eleven O'Clock to take me to the gar
deEsn
:" As you please. my child" said Flu
SELF; and for more than an hour she
sang to him songs be had loved in Ita-
iy. songs he had himself written, each
one with s memory. She had sweet,
clear voice. and from her Italian
teacher she had learned to sing from
the cart. an art in which the Germans
often fail.
The lesson over, Lottchen said, with
her face radiant: :" Meister. dear, did
you know that Carl was trying for the
grand pri e? All, / am su. e he viii
win: he is SO clever, my handsome