Evening capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1888-1893, 1892-11-19

| We thought at first the crowd had
been attracted by battle between
| drunkards or conflict between
lovers, for man was lying on the
ground DR.. Falkner, who was one
of the party, leaped from the car
riage and went to see what was the
matter. He was told that the ticket
taker of the ball had died suddenly
DR.. Fallzner examined the man on
the ground, and presently said:
HE is not dead. but is dying of
starvation
Everybody tried to do something
for the poor ticket taker. He was
given glass of wine, and a collec-
| ton was taken up for him. We con
tributed literally. The doctor prom
ised to call on the poor fellow in the
morning, and asked his address. A
woman gave him visiting card, and
going up to the carriage lamp the
doctor read aloud, "Rodolphe Zim-
mer, professor of music, Sterngasse,
269."
"Zimmerw l exclaimed Il know
him Put him in the carriage. Quick
will take charge of him"
We drove to the address on the
card Zimmer's room was on the
fifth floor. The door was opened,
and our hearts ached when we saw,
not in the room, but the hole in
which the poor fellow lived. Four
naked, solid walls, little straw in
one corner an earthenware jug, an
earthenware porringer, a bit of soap
nothing else. Luckily we were in
what was called furnished lodging
house" and the rooms on the first
floor were almost decent. We had
poor thinner placed in the best of
them. DR.. Falkner promised me that
he should be well taken care of.
A week or ten days afterward a
servant announced to me, 'Mr Ro-
dolphe Zimmer" At last / had got
possession of my waltz A tall, old
man with a noble face entered
my room. Misfortune had cruelty
scratched his wrinkled cheeks with
her claws. His eyes were gentle and
resigned. Long white locks fell on
his black coat, which was almost
threadbare; but very neatly brushed.
In fact, everything about him excited
sympathy.
Sir" said he, II have come to
thank you for your kindness to me-"
1T is not worth mentioning, an
swered. II did nothing but follow
the example of your friends"
II have no friends. l have not
long enough to live to talk to you of
gratitude; have come merely to say,
Thank you
Il repeat again, you owe me moth
ing. Do you know who ann" re-
piled quite testify, for to tell the
truth l thought his Thank you
rather a poor return for all | had
lone.
Jacques Offenbach.
Yes; that is my name. Now, you
can understand that between breth-
rem of the same profession the very
least thing that can be done is to help
each other.
Brethren murmured thinner in
a bitter tone. You say that out of
politeness. Alas / am nothing but
poor professor with absolutely moth
ing"
II beg your pardon, but you have
had your share Of popularity, You
have had talents"
81 am obliged for your courtesy"
1T is not courtesy. 1t is my sin
cere opinion"
You may perhaps have heard
that and you repeat it to me to less
en- the bitterness of aims. You do
not, you cannot know nything
about me"
"You are mistaken and am going
to prove it to YOU"
went to the piano, and | played
slowly the eight bars knew so well.
The old man lifted his head at the
first notes. Stupefaction was fol-
lowed by infinite delight. The artist
in him Strengthened himself up, and
beam of joy shone through the
tears which flowed down his hollow
cheeks. His emotion affected me SO
that | had the utmost difficulty TO
get through the eight bars. AS /
arose from the piano he ran toward