The Globe-republican., 1893-05-12
THE LITTLE VlOLlNIST.
How he Secured Assistance for
His Dying Mother.

her little son. Mrs. Aurlich earned a
scant livelihood with her needle, and
little Berthold made himself useful by
working in their small garden during
the summer. The warm weather was a
pleasant season, but in the winter when
work was scarce they were often hun
CRY.
But Berthold was not unhappy: he
lived in an ideal world, heaven OF
harmony. For him all nature was an
orchestra; he heard music in the whis-
perings of the great pines in the for
est behind his cottage home, in the
evening zephyrs, in the tinkIina
streams, in the Ginning of the church
bells in the village near by. At night
a mighty chorus of unseen minstrels
lulled him to Sleep
Mrs. Aurlich's health began to fail
and she was finally obliged to give up
the little work she already had. One day
when Berthold was absent in the for
est gathering wood he was detained
untiluuite late. He hurried home and
as BE approached the cottage he saw
that there was no light shining from
the window.
With an anxious heart he hurried into
the house and called his mother. but re-
ceived no reply. He CROPPED his way
across the room through the darkness
and stumbled over her, where she lay
unconscious on the cold floor.
Very much alarmed, the lad knelt
down and chafed her hands and
sprinkled some water on her face. After
awhile Mrs. Aurlich opened her eyes
and, assisted by Berthold. managed to
reach the bed, and for several days the
lad was her only nurse.
The poor woman did not seem to i'm
prove. She needed some nourishing
food and medicine. but these cannot be
obtained without money. Berthold
begged her to allow him to go into the
village and borrow some money from a
relative residing there, but this she
would not consent to; she was very
proud, and the relations between her
self and her relatives had not been very
cordial since she had become DOOR,
1t was a very cold day: the sky was
dark and threatening. and Berthold
heaped the little fireplace with wood,
but the heat all went up the chimney
and the house was very cold.
He had only crust of black bread
for his breakfast; the last of the loaf
was nearly gonS and he had put the
last grain of chicory coffee into the pot
to make q cup for his mother. There
was no milk or sugar for it and when
= t,o l. L
the bed.
Dear MOTHER he whispered. softly
She lay very still, her eyes closed, her
hands crossed over her breast. She
looked like the picture of a dead saint
he had seen in the art gallery of the
city which he had once visited with his
father. The sick woman opened her
eyes, and, smiling, began to caress his
hand.
"Will You have some coffee. mOther?'
To please him she assented. but when
he brought it to her she could not drink
it; her stomach was too weak to retain
it.
Let it rest on the table, she whis-
pered: lit is too hot. l will drink it BY
and by
The tears came to the boys eyes. for
he knew that the mixture was too
strong for her and that she needed some
light and nourishing food. He tucked
the clothes about her and smoothed the
pillow. His mother thanked him with
a smile and kissed him tenderly.
You are good boy" she whispered.
The lad went to replenish the fire.
and when this was done he saw that his
mother was asleep. There was deep
flush on her face and her fingers were
working nervously.
Berthold sat on a low stool before the
fire in deep thought for some time; sud-
denly he arose and went over to a little
cupboard. He took from it something
covered with an old coat; this he I'M
rolled and disclosed violin. small and
yellow with age.
He examined the strings carefully,
and then placed it at his shoulder and |
drew the back of the bow noiseIessly |
across the strings. Suddenly he heard |
a low tap at the door, and without wait |
ing to lay aside the instrument he went |
and opened the door.
Good morning, Gretchen!" he ex-
claimed; come in and shut the door
softly. My mother is asleep"
Gretchen. the daughter of their near
est neighbor, entered the cottage. She
was about the same age a. Berthold:
her eyes were blue as the slz,,> and her
hair yellow as gold. In her hands she
carried something wrapped up in a
towel.
What have you there?"
Mother sent over q bowl of rabbit
SOUP" replied the girl. land she said l
might stay over here all day and clean
up the house"
''She is very good, said Berthold: 81
am afraid my mother is going to die"
Now, the lad was q manly little fell
low, but he loved his mother very much.
and he felt so miserable that he sat
down on the stool and began to sob.
Dear Berthold," cried Gretchen, do
not cry. The good God will spare your
am sure. Do not let her see
you grieving, for that will only distress
her,"
You are right" said the lad. rising
from the stool and brushing away the