Wood River times. [volume] (Hailey, Idaho) 1882-1915, 1893-09-19
THE ROYAL TRAMP.
| Death on q Piano Stool After . W0ndrOas
| Burst of Melody.

and it were better that it were for
gotten.
He was the natural son of the late
King of Wurtemburg and his mother
was the only woman that the King
ever truly loved, but royalty has its
slavery more CALLING at times than
the letters of the lowest bondmen.
and reasons of state compelled q
loftier alliance for His Majesty.
The boy, who had been given the
courtesy title of the Baron Bharland,
grew up surrounded by every adyant-
age that wealth and favor could In
sure him. AS his tastes began to
form themselves he developed pas
sion for music, which was fostered
aud aided by all that celebrated
masters could impart
At last the Able Liszt took the
young musician under his charge, and
added to the solid foundation already
which can only be supplied by q
masters hand.
introduced under such favorable
auspices the young musician might
have enjoyed brilliant career, but
upon the establishment of the North
German Federation the King of
Wurtemburg found his power and in
come much curtailed, care and
anxiety finally brought on fatal
illness, and the King, after years
Of poverty In Paris passed away,
leaving the young natural son wholly
unprovided for.
Karl came to America soon after
and at once secured splendid posi-
tion among the piano masters Of New
York. His pupils were from the
wealthiest and oldest families and
his fees were princely. But soon his
fatal weakness began to develop-a
love for drink and debauchery.
Constantly falling into new trouble
and disgrace repeatedly disappoint-
ing his wealthy pupils and neglecting
all social and professional duties. he
soon began to lose casts and was COM
| PEELED to content himself with q
poorer class Of patrons.
These too, he neglected, disap-
pointed and disguised, and falling
lower and lower In the social scale he
was reduced to the lowest and most
disrcputable professional work, and
even in the meanest position his dis
solute habits were constantly bring
ing him into disgrace, although when
seated before the piano. even In his
most scottish state. his genius would
assert itself. and he still charmed his
hearers with his brilliant music,
while his seventy, disreputable appear
ance disguised every one near.
We lost sight of him for many years,
but one cold, dreary day in December,
the last OF the year, Mr.. Shermer, the
Boston music dealer, was crossing the
Common with friend. when the
latter pointed out wretched, bloated
tramp seated upon one of the benches
by the pathway.
"Do you recognize that MANI"
asked the friend.
"No, indeed" replied Mr.. Shermer.
"Why should IL"
''Because it Is Karl, the natural
son of the King OF Wurtemburg."
"My Cod" exclaimed Shermer. in
Karl in his best and brightest days.
That evening the clerks at Sher-
mers place were surprised to see a
filthy besotted vagabond shuttle into
the store and with vacant, dreamy
look in his eyes walk toward grand
piano that stood near the door.
I'VE have nothing for you," said a
clerk, sharply, to the disreputable
looking creature.
II don't want any money" said the
tramp, in a thick, husky voice. 81
only want to sit down before a
piano"
The superintendent was called from
his Office and informed of the strange
request Of the squalid intruder, and
FROM pure curiosity allowed the out
cast to have his way.
'God bless you!" said the vagrant,
and with weary sigh he seated him.
self before the splendid instrument
and with fingers stlffened by want of
practice, but with the expression and
soul of true artist, began the OPEN
ing strains Of the moonlight sonata of
Beethoven.
Clerks, customers, and workmen,
every one in the establishments
dropped their occupation and talk to
listen to the tender, soulful tones
that rolled forth from beneath the
hands of the besutted outcast
At last the sonata was finished and
the Wretched creature rested his head
upon his hands and bent over the
piano. So long and silently he sat
there that at last one of the sales
men, thinking the man had dropped
asleep stepped up to the bowed figure
and shook him gently by the arm. AS
he did so the head fell back and dis
played face all white and rigid,
from which the wide open eyes stared
fixedly.
Karl was dead!
This is no fancy sketch, but an in
cident only too true. The love of his
art struggling through the debasing
effects of debauchery had impelled
him once more before he died to pour
out his soul in one last burst of har.
mony.-George Kyle, in New York
| HERALD