Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1892-12-23
UNDER THE STATUE
OF BEETHOVEN,
A Christmas Story Of the Great Organ.

This story, which possesses the true Christmas
spirit in an unusual degree, was originally writ.
ten for the Boston Transcript Its scene is laid In
that city quarter of a century ago, when 1.-THE
Great Organ" in its day the marvel OF the
musical world, stood in Music Hall, with its
carved statue of Beethoven, the great composer,
as its central feature of decoration
1t was bright weather,-cod and clear
as a jewel.
Ths sparkling promise of perfect Christ
mas tide was in the air, and the old mall
on Boston Common clicked and battered to
the tread of gay crowds crossing either
way, all winterrosy, bundle-laden, and
bright-eyed with exercise.
Joyous excitement tingled in the frosty
wind, that, with keen rush, swept the
bare branches overhead and buffeted the
skirts of laughing girls, who came on, lean
ing merrily against it, and passed in a
bright whirl of pettcoats with little shrieks
Of fun. One group of these-a knot of
pretty school, girls, with their skates, bound
for the Public Garden-jostled against a
tall lad with a small maiden at his side, and
crowded them quite off the walk with lit
tie ceremony.
The only wonder is, they did not crowd
them out of notice, too, and out of this
story at the same time. For plain, shah
by little mouse was Draxy, trotting along
at her tall brothers side.
Those sosy girls, sweeping by in their
bright gowns and plush and furs, looked so
bewitching and so brilliant near her, you
could hardly help wishing the story to be
about them, instead.
There were no fine feathers about Davy.
either-poor lad Poor bonny Davy, in his
threadbare cothesl
Walking along behind him you would
have noticed how faded and thin his coat
was, and perhaps you would have smiled
at the great patch on the elbow Of the
sleeve his music was tucked under. But
had you come the other way, and met my
Davy's face-believe me, you would never
think of patches nor of faded clothes, for
there was something in that beautiful, dark
eve and brave, clear brow, prince might
envy him.
fear he would not thank me, though,
| for choosing such a time to introduce him,
when his head was dropping, and the brown
ewes were heavy with a mist that almost
gathered into drops.
"Davy,' chirped Draxv, at his elbow,
"oh, do YOU see what fun the boys are hav-
ing, PLAYING football, down on the Parade
Ground q
Davy cast heavy glance toward the
lively youths. but could not muster a word
or smile to please her.
Don't look so awful Davy," pleaded the
little girl Besides, here comes that Ern-
est Maxwell. and he sees you"
Up went Davy's head at that, and his
eyes measured the approaching figure stead
| lily.
| Ernest Maxwell carried some music un-
der his arm, too 1t was by the same di-
vine composer as DAVIS. No sweeter be-
cause it had such an expensive binding, am
sure. Neither was Ernest Maxwell, him
self, any grander because of his own ex-
pensive binding.
But he seemed to think that he was, and
he gave Davy very patronizng nod as he
passed.
mo use, Draxyl" burst out Davy, as
soon as they were out of hearing, Il don't
see any justice in it. and l can't bear it,
There's that snob, Max well-his father is
Just coaxing him, bribing him to go to to
Germany and study. Schwarz told me so,
in the class yesterday.
"Oh, my poor Davyl And you've got to
give up your music and 30 to work in that
horrid old place"
"'Tisn't that! Idon't think I'd be mean
enough to begrudge another fellow his luck
Butch. how can | stand i'll The noodle
doesn't want to 90, and wont 60 I'd walk
through fire for that chance That's why
l don't get it!'
Draxy looked very sorry; but she could
think of nothing comforting to say just
then, so she only crept a little nearer to his
side and cast her eyes around in quest OF
cheer.
Small cheer there was for either of them
in that endless procession of happy people
and Christmas bundles.
Draxy dared not speak of them. She
knew a humble home where there would
be but sad Christmas this year-no pres
ents at all. and good fortune enough il
some means were found of keeping fire
and food for all the little ones.
She was but little maid herself, how
ever, and, though wise enough to know
that the sight of other peoples JOY is moi
much comfort TO the unhappy, she was
easily at a loss for subjects that would
more surely console a grieving heart.
So, the attractions of the Parade Ground
having failed to produce any effect, she
turned her eyes on the other side.
There, behind the iron fence, was the ole
cemetery, with its mounds and tombs, ly
ing so still and cold in the winter sunlight
Here and yonder, on the soldiers graves
still waved some drabbled remnant of thu
little flags placed there long months before