San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1886-12-13

So the girl grew up to womanhood.
Fortunately from her mother she had in-
herited the rare gift Of a singing voice,
thanks TO which she had so far been al
ways able TO keep rolf over her head,
and loaf in the cupboard. And the flu
ture was left to take care Of itself.
At last her task was finished, ssedle
and thimble laid aside, and the once
bright hued garment donncd. The wear
er glanced down at its faded folds with q
smile.
Between two Of the windows, nailed up
against the wall, was small looking
glass in a cracked frame. Before this
mirror stood Mysie O'Farrell, critically
scanning her own image, as she twisted
her long, fair hair into one heavy coil,
fastening it up with broad bit Of ribbon
effect of the combination Of Spanish Ian
guOr and Irish vivacity, Il which might
be added dash Of native drollery.
A loud knocking at the door of the
room startled the girl in the midst of her
toilette.
Come in" she said without turning
her head, and boy entered who seemed
to have been well acquainted with "pov-
erty, hunger, and dirt"
Il say, Mysie, how late you are-and
after sayin' you'd be outside the Colonnade
at FIVE. waited ever so long, keeping a
sharp lookout right and left. But it's as
well was there, as it turned out. and I'll
tell you why. I'm just in lucks way,
and so are you, reckon"
"Have you really had COOL luck, Ga
brieli am so glad, dear Tell me all
about it. Its good thing you just came
in. was going out"
II should have been savage if I'd
missed you. Just listen. AS was stand
in under the arch--our arch, you know
piping away at some tune. more for the
sake Of passing time than to turn a cop
per, suddenly felt hand laid slap On
my shoulder. | was just openin' my
mouth, thinkin' it was one q them med
dlesOme boobies, when l cooked my eye
round the corner, and saw q tall chap
with puffy red face staring at me-
What dye want says to him. What
is your occupation, employment, trade
that is, how do you earn your living, my
lad 2 he asks, still keeping his hand on
my shoulder, as if he feared I'd cut and
run afOre he had his say out. What's
that to your replies, for l thought It
precious cool of his popping such ques-
ton and just like his cheek. Don't be
rude, my lad he went on, no ways Of
Tended; 4 only want to help you. l heard
you singing just now. You have a fine
voice, although it is quite unframed, see
raw material, but capable Of much
Oh, loI' bless you, a lot more as l couldn't
keep up with, but, to go on, Il ask your
daily occupation in order to tell you that
| could set you in the way OF earning an
honest livelihood, by means of your voice,
if you are prepared to be steady. perse-
vering and Industrious and a deal more
said this big red faced cove. who seemed
a bit Of a swell in his line. which is the
operate. guess. However. be that as it
may, he drew me under the archway,
where we wasn't in the way Of passers. by,
and asked me few questions, as were
easy enough to answer. Had any Ia
rentsf No. replies, i amt, and it's
Just as WELL why, that is sad senti-
ment for young man to express; how is
is it and the old fellow pulls long face
and shakes his head. Well, sir" / ex-
plains, you see, when they'd got old, I'd
have had to help keep 'em, and find it
hard enough to fill my own stomach to
my satisfaction We'll. well, we can alter
all that says he, If you're hard working
and honest. You've got good voice, but
remember it's uphill work to become a
frst-class singer Then he asked if I'd
got brother. No. says /, but I've a
sister. You should just hear her sing,
sir. Her voice is as clear as lark's.' l
thought it best to say you was my sister
to save bother. Dear me, bless my soul,
a family gift evidently replied the old
chap, raising his eyebrows. Now, look
here, my lad; should like to be of use
to you, and should not wish TO see so
much fine material wasted in the streets
Well, he told me to go to him tomorrow
and take you. gave him my name, and
he gave me this card. See: sSignor Bru-
netti, Finchley- road, st. Johns Wood
Then he cut of like a rocket. So now,
Miss Mysie, that's what's called luck,
amt il"
This was Gabriel Cole.
Who his parents were, whence they had
come, and whittier they had gone, no one
seemed to know or care.
His own early recollections came to a
standstill in the retrospective road at a
time when he himself must have been
about six years Of age, at which period of
his life he asserted that he had sat all
day long by the side of woman, whom
he supposed must have been his mother,
and helped her to cook chestnuts under
an old railway arch somewhere near q
river.
He was handsome lad when he liked
TO wash off the stain of the city's smoke
and the dust Of the streets-a black-eyed,
sallow- skinned. fierce kind of beauty.
Such as he was anyhow, he satisfied
Mysie 0'Farrell, who had loved this
dark-eyed boy, first by habit, later on by
inclination, but in one way or another
ever since they had met as children on
the London pavement, and sworn eternal
friendship over the first handful of cop
pers they had earned by their joint sing
ing.
Gabriel was well acquainted with sin in
all her MANY hideous shaDes..
Ito - tt,ntpsuAdt
IAN ekn.