Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1892-10-06
PIETRO.

Pietro's parents lived in Florence,
that most beautiful city of Italy
They were poor and had many chill
dren-so many, in fact that Gerardo
grumbled not little when the baby
Pietro was laid in his arms.
"One more mouth to feed," he said,
"when there is not enough food in the
house now for hall OF them"
He laid the baby down with an i'm
patient sigh and went out to the near
est tavern. Bread cost but one small
silver piece, while the drink cost two,
but Gerardo silenced his conscience if
he had any by rejecting that the
liquor braced him up much more than
the bread would have done.
1t began with the day of Pietro's
birth and never seemed to quite pass
away-this idea that he was in the
way. He was neglected, cuffed and
blamed for all the mischievous pranks
OF his brothers, the consequence of
which was he grew up a slender, deli
cate boy, hungry for love and kind
treatment, which, needless to say, he
never received. Yet I am quite sure
he could not have told you what he
wanted. He would not have known
how to express it. He grew up an
outcast-a pariah from human love
and tenderness
Hes 81 fool" people said OF him,
and his father fully agreed that it was
so. "He's a fool" they said, and
having thus satisfied their own minds.
they lost no time in telling others
until it was generally conceded
throughout their neighborhood that
Gerardo's last boy was perfect
fool"
Indeed, he did not seem like the
other children. They were full OF
lie and animal spirits, as children
should be; ready for fight at any
moment and always boisterous and
noisy. Pietro would steal away by him
self and stay for hours. They watch
ed him once to see where he went and
followed him up to the big cathedral
OF St. Marks where they found him,
with rapt looks and hushed breath,
list ening to the great organ. The
with it's grand throbbing music
pleased him far more tina the beauti-
full singing. He was ill for days when
they kept him at home, and only re-
covered when they permitted him to
worship the beloved organ once
more.
"He's a, fool" they all said with
one accord.
"a bigger fool than we thought
him they agreed
One day an Englishman who was
sojourning in Florence was strolling
through St. Marks admiring the
beautiful paintings and listening to
the music when he came upon a little
boy half hidden against q pillar-a
little boy with a most woebegone face
The tears rolling down each side had
washed two white paths through the
dirty little face, making him look more
forlorn and uncared for than ever.
The Englishman could talk like ma.
tive and was so struck by the beauty
of the great mouruful eyes and CULVER
ing lips, through which the breath
came in quick, short gasps, that he
unconsciously drew nearer, intending
to speak.
The boy made such a picture sitting
as he did where the purple light from
one OF the great windows bathed him
in amethyst glory, with his dirty little
face turned toward the organ loft, and
the mournful brown eyes, full to over
flowing, drinking in seemingly the glo-
rious music, that the man felt like an
intruder and stopped for moment
lost in admiration. The music rose
and fell and died away, and little Pie
tro came back to earth once more
and rose from his seat by the pillar
ready to go back home. Then it was
that he saw the stranger-a man who
looked at him with kind, ENDURING
eyes and who asked mis- name. Pie
tro answered him, full of amazement.
He felt very awkward in the light of
those kindly eyes.
"Do you like music?" the stranger
asked.
ooh, I love it," Pietro answered
with kindling eyes.
Twill you come and nee me, Pietro
l want to talk with you. Can you
play the organ? Violin? Harp? Per-
haps you sing?"
Pietro shook his head to each one of
the questions and the ever-ready tears
began to fall.
"Never mind; perhaps you will
some day. l have many musical in
struments at my house, and l will
show them to you; perhaps If you are
a good boy, will play for you, Have
you ever heard anyone play on the vi
olin2 No? Well, | am ready to wa
ger that you will like it better than
the organ"
"When shall come, sir?" said Pie
tro.
"Why, any time you want to. To-
MORO " morning, perhaps, and you
must ask for Mr.. Britain. Can you
remember? Mr.. Britain at the Villa
Romola."
Pletro could hardly wait for the