Morris tribune., 1886-03-10
GOOD-FOR-NOTHING.

UCdu SlODlH WIS u Va
cal instruments, q small beetle-browed
man, we'll advanced in life-a widower
with six children on his hands.
That is, he called them on his hands
-groaningly spoke of them as such;
but, in truth, four of those children
earned rs much as he did.
On account of his fifth child, per-
haps, he had occasion to groan and
complain. This child was q boy, seven
wears of age-Francois by name, but
called by his father, and by the elder
brothers, Little Good-for-Nothing."
Strangers, passing that way, or
bringing instruments to be repaired,
upon marking the stolid appearance of
Jean Clopin, and his evidentignorance,
wondered whence his children could
have inherited their brightness.
All, if they had known the mother
they would have found no cause for
wonder.
In the earlier years of his life, while
engaged in patching up scenery for a
theatre, Jean became acquainted with
an actress-worshiping her from afar-
who occupied leading position on the
stage. She had been an actress OF the
first class, and an accomplished singer,
also.
A terrible accident of fire, which sad
" marred her face, destroying her
| beauty forever, and which would have
caused her death had not the poor
scene-mender. at the risk of his own
| life, saved her-obliged her to leave the
| stage; shortly after which, moved as
much by gratitude as by love, she be-
| came Jean Clopin's wife. Jean loved
| her devotedly, and he had been sadly
broken by her death.
| Francois, at the age Of seven, had
grown to be tall, slim boy, with flax
en-, curling hair, pair of large, brill
! liant blue eyes, and features inclined
| to be angular, yet exceedingly beauti-
| full.
His sister, Madeline, the eldest of the
| children, was as good mother to him;
yet she did not appear to love him.
Sh alone, of all the family, seemed to
take entirely the fathers habits and
\ disposition; and, like the father, she re-
garded the dreaming, specializing boy
as Little Good-for-N othing.
| The instrument-mender's poor cot
taqe was on the outskirts of the old
/ CITY of Blois, the waters of the Loire
| flowing near to its rear porch, while
the grand old castle of the Counts of
| Bloise, when the sun was setting, cast
| a shadow on it.
One dismal, rainy day Madeline
found her little brother lying upon his
back upon the floor of the garret, with
| his hands clasped above his head, SEEM
ingly asleep. She called to him thrice
! before he answered
Francois, what are you doing
there?"
s'Oh. Madeline, sweet sister, heark-
en- to the music! Is it not grand? You
know not what delicious dreams have
had. Do you think the angels are IN
the rain.drops?'
She gazed upon him in blank sur
| prise. His rhapsody was an unknown
tongue to her, and she asked him what
in the world he meant.
He looked at her pityingly. Could
she not hear music in the raindrops as
they pattered softly on the tiles of the
roof?
No, she could hear nothing of the
kind; and it would be much better for
Il IL u0 WOu4l NdhO uP3 Cbhu CAA IL AAAo
attention and his energies to some USE
full occupation.
sDo you know, "she said, with sorrow
in her voice, show You are worrying
your poor father? Why will you not
arouse yourself and do something to
help him?"
| She left him sobbing piteously. No
body sympathized with him, but they
blamed him because he could not learn
to work with his hands But anon he
caught the music of the rain-drops
again, and his tears were dried away.
Patter, patter, patter-oh, how sweet
the melodious rythm!
| On the very next day after this
Jean Clopin entered his shop, and
found Francois seated on the floor, with
M. Dupont's violin in his hands.
At that particular moment the little
fellow had the mottled old instrument
hugged to his bosom, as mother would
hug her darling babe.
1 With one hand the father carefully
grasped the violin, while with the other
| he gave the boy blow upon the cheek
that came very near knocking him
over.
| .How dare you? Little Good-for-
I Nothing! you'll worry my life away
one of these days! 1t is M. Dupont's
violin-his Stradivarius! Go you into
the house and tell Madeline to put you
to bed; and hark ye: You'd better keep
your bed, for can see no use that you
will ever be to anybody or anything
out of it. Away you gor'
| M. Dupont was chief organist and
musical director of the great cathedral,
and when he came for his violin the
archbishop came with him.
1t was beautiful day, and the twain
| had been enjoying walk upon the
rivers bank.
| Dupont knew that Jean Clopin own
ed a very pretty little garden, wherein
grew beautiful flowers, and while the
violin was being made ready, he led
the archbishop to see and admire.
This flower garden had been one of
Madame Clopin's chief delights. The
roses and the pinks, and the lovely and
fragrant flowers of every description,
had been planted by her own hands;
4 and on her death-bed, when Madeline
| had brought to her a sweet bouquet,
she had asked her husband to promise
her that, while he lived and owned the
| garden, he would keep it in order, as
she had kept it.
He promised, and he had kept his
faith; but he never acknowledged to
himself, nor would Madeline acknowl-
edge how much the Little Good-for-
Nothing did towards keeping the gar
den in order. All, but for him we fear
the garden would have suffered.
The good old archbishop was dear
lover Of the beautiful, and he thanked
his. organist for having brought him to
the garden. He enjoyed every step of
the way. By-and-by he stopped with
his hand to his ear, and M. Dupont did
likewise.
/ "My dear Dupont, what is it?n
'sIt sounds like robin, your grace. !"
There are two of them, and they are
CONTEMPLATING.
The twain pursued the sound, and
presently came upon boy, stretched
on the velvety sward, warbling like a
| bird There had evidently been a rob-