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

e--s-QNeE 10 zlAe-poInRS ana Naqlues. be
hold Nation of buttcrilies"' 1t was u
Icto day in Berlin -thc birthday Of the
GihpcrOr. Your BeFlincr Is a taciturn
wight in his shop or at his hearthstone,
but at evening i'm the gardens, where
his beloved German music can gladden.
his heart and .cOpious Hbations of beer
can loosen bis tongue, he is sociable and
merry enough. AT a regularly organ
lied festivty he appreciates his duty 20
~ society, and is as7-ligAt hearted asthe
s volatile Vennese wien he4istens tothe
- rhythni' Of a Strauss wtthz. -
From the gray-headcd diplomat, with
the breast OF his military coat rcsplcn-
dent with medals and orders, to the pale
street boy, with faces shiny from I'M
wonted contact with soap and water
Berlin's good people are on gaycty in
- ten. EThe,strcets are n mass of gay col
Ors, and music is waited to the ear by
every Breath OF wind
Ithasgbccn said thatIife is so very
serious an allan that we, should never
hiss an Opportunity to laugh; but no
maxim is needed, to ybping laughter to
the eyes and lips of the blonde and
buXom tulUieiUS and their military
SWANS who promenadcd SO gayly
- - Itch. laughte~is in their hearts, made
glad by the brightness of the sunshine
and by youth and hope and love.
a. Giuseppe Fuselli looks from his attic
window. and wonders il in all the gay
city he is.the only ono in whose heart
There Is no mlrtH, VINO can dash away
tear as he gazcs from his lattice,
listening to the stirring music that
fills the air. lie Is q man past sixty
whose spare form is clad in garments
81 that would be t'ttters' but for the
clumsy mcnding that his own fingers
have'do He is handsome old man,
for, despite the haggard features, there
..-. Is miuging OF grandeur and poetry
~ I'm his face. His hair is white as snow,
his profile clear cut.as cameo, and his
eyes, black as night and undimmed by
"a. the sorrows OF a leng life, show that he
is no native Of Germana.
a-----~ztsi Giuseppe Fuselli plays the violin at
the Royal Opera House. 1t is only the
second violin, and he makes but pit
TANGO, half of which is sent each week
TO a-sister rs poor rs himself who is at
home i'm Itufy. 'Fhe first yiohnists are
among the mCrry-makcrS of the tCte,
rarH- With-mOue to spare for the pleasures
- of thcir swceth0arts or wives.
es- There -had--been. a time when
Giuscppe's ambition was rs boUndless
as the realms Of bis art. In youth he
had said 70 HIMSELF ''Nly name shall be
..-.- wri8en-Nyith an eagle 5 quill upon the
scroll of fame beside the glorious names
OF Beethoven and Mozart My name
shall live aud my works shall be i'm
mortal
" No,q poor Giuseppe was very hum
bic; he only prayed that the fatCs
--- might Tnate hiHl-s-lirsb.violiR.
lie turned from the window TO the
- cheerless dark save for the stream
81 Of sunlight that came through the lat
tice, but which seemed chary of bcstow-
ing itself about so uucOngcnial place.
The walls were festOoned with n gossa-
mer tapestry that for years the spiders
had been weaving ndisturbed. Music
mostly manUsCr.pt-Was strcwn in
. confusion upon the Hoor, and covered
49, y thetabIe and the piano, which was the
musician S one treasure.
1t was an old, old piano, vet Giuseppe
ga had eyfTlou9d i friend n faithful o.,o anG
his piano, and, with his head thrown
back, his thoughts glowing with visions
of Q noble fuHuc, his fingers would
wal5c songs of love, Of passion, of tri-
Umph, and he saida fIThepauo shall be
- my slave l shall be grcat.'
BUtJhoa years driftcd by; and now,
when he was l0ncly-aud he was SO often
lonely-hc would act his fingers stray
over the keys, and borui, as if rs their
own WiL,- q Md sweet melody. 1t
sang a lament for ms lost life and his
crushed aspirations; 1t sang = glad an
them of hope. and whispered to Giu-
seppC: Peace, dcsolate-oh hoartl tor-
get tlua cross That thou hastsborne. 50
longs Think of the crown 1hat.wats
thee. Heaven is very near now, and
there thou and thy Ninotta shall be
young again. ~ -ls-...- ...-.-
Often as he played, and the music
I'm -Fspgko g his lonelyold heart, the tears
Would Start 10 his ewes, Inc would bury
y lis fnce in lbs hands and, resting his
. head npon-the piano would fail asleep
I'd AS If upon the breast of friend. -
As FuSclli seated himself ut the pia-
no, and his nimble fingers glded rip
plingy oVor the Keys there was q ,timid
knock nj the door, and he started, for
the sound was an unusual one. Then,
.e4 rs Hreeollectiug, he said, with smile:
..Ahiit is. Lottchon- -.
He opened the door, and its frame
work iucloscd prettypcture a dainty
little German maid clad in white, with
a knot of blue ribbon at her throat
and her braids of golden hair falling
over her shoulders; The column of
sunshine fen directly upon her if
Welcoming a kindred spirit in this desc
late place.
Good morning. meisler, she said.
MAY have the lesson now, please?
There is a fet, to-day, aud Carl comes
ut eleven o'clock TO take me to the gar
dens'
:. As You please. my child" said Flu
SELF; and for moro than an hour she
sanr+to him songs nd had loved in lta-
w. songs he had himself written, each
one with is memory She had n sweet
clear voice, and from her Italian
tcachcrshe had learned TO sing from
the heart, an art in which the Germans
often fail. rLr
The lesson over, Lottchcn SAID. with
her face radiant: " MciSier, dear, did
Won know that Carl was trying Cor the
grand price. All! l am sure he will
z win; be IS so clever, my handsome
Il iai 55 e Why n y@ I'm. i. violin !, d.
ROYAL Opcra-House. and the two must
clans were slightly acquainted. Carl 5
compositions were very clever, so his
friends told him He was writing an
49, opera. Abelard and ITcIoise,' and
many said il NEalLd make him famous
OH but if il should fal?' said lit
tie Lottchen, her heart sinking ut the
thought
Failr' Carl would answer proudly
and with some contempt. An!
Lottchen mine, YOU do not understand
these things What did Wolfgang, the
famous critic, say when / showed him
my score? lie was enthusiastic so are