The Sauk Centre herald. (Sauk Centre, Stearns County, Minn.) 1886-current, 1894-12-20
her signs changed to tears, and her grief
increased until 1t found vent in sobs.


Increased until 1t found vent in sobs.
my money! she cried. my poor
groschen! Oh, dear infant Jesus, bring me
back my groschen"
Like an answer to her prayer, there
sounded not far of strange, sweet mel
ody, and she dried her eyes suddenly and
looked about, half expecting to see an an
gel, for she thought the music must have
come from heaven, so beautiful it was.
But soon she perceived figure without
wings, harp or halo, lad about Is years
old, dressed unlike any one in Nuremberg
with dark blue brooches, short cloak on
his shoulders and little red cap ON his
black hair. He carried a musical instru-
ment and touched the strings as he glanced
up at q house where light was cleaning.
The child did not understand the singer
words, and feeling sure that he was using
the language of heaven she threw herself
at his feet, clasped her hands and raised
her eyes entreatingly to his face.
Good angel, pray thee" she cried,
"help me to find my groschen!
"Thy groschen, little one? What sayst
thou?" he answered, speaking with a
strange accent. "Why dost thou call me
thy good angel-me, poor Italian sing
er?''
''Is that true?" asked the child, still in
doubt.
Indeed, yes" he answered II saw a
light in this fine house and thought that
If sang might be offered nights shell
ter, but all seems to be silent"
EVERY one but the sick lady and her
servant has gone to church," explained
the little girl, and her nearer added:
''Then I shall go there too. And what
wilt thou do?'
At this question the child, remembering
her loss, began to cry again, and the lad
took her hand in his, and stroking it asked
gently:
"What is the trouble, little one? Tell
me, and if I can help you will" He
smiled cheerily as he spoke, and the child
answered.:
Il have lost my money, my groschen.
We never have anything nice for supper,
but because it is Christmas time my moth
er gave me the money to buy sausage
and an apple pie, but have dropped my
groschen in the snow. We have no more,
and now we can have no Christmas sup
per-"
''Where did you drop it?" asked her lis
tener, and when she pointed to the spot
he knelt down and began turning over the
snow, when he gave a cry of triumph and
held up a coin in his fingers.
ooh, you must be an angelo cried the
little girl joyfully, and he added, with a
smile
"a Florentine angel, then. My name is
Maso NapOne-remember it. Now, good
by. Go buy your supper"
GtNOt until baya hnan tO bo mi n nj ohf
mass" replied the girl. "My mother is
ill, SO 1 must go and pray for her.
''Then will go with you," said Maso,
taking her hand. "What is your name?''
Christine Dachs. My mother is the
Widow Gudule. -
''Poor little thingl Do you remember
your father?'
Perfectly. He used to hush me to sleep
by the fire every night and sometimes
seem to feel his arms round me still. All,
how we'll he loved mel"
''Your mother has to work?'
Eyes; she does beautiful embroidery.
do little of it, but have not learned to
work very we'll yet. Pretty soon 1 shall
do it better, and then mamma can rest"
81 am all alone in the world" said the
youth when Christine stopped speaking.
My fathers creditors took everything ex-
cept my lutte, so left Florence, and now
earn little money by singing in the
streets, but I often have to sleep in the
open air and without supper, but 1 am
very strong, so do not mind it, and
have many happy hours. Beautiful ladies
call me into their houses to sing to their
guests, and then am we'll treated and
we'll fed.''
The little girl nodded approvingly, as if
such conduct were the most natural in the
world, and at that moment she and her
companion reached the door of the church.
AS they entered Maso dotted his hat rev.
erentially, dipped his fingers into the holy
water fount and touched them to Chris
tines. Then the two children knelt down
in the shadow Of great pillar which rose to
the high arched roof. The whole congre-
cation joined in singing the carols, and
the weak, broken voices Of the aged, the
silvery ones Of the children, the sweet
tones of the maidens, the clear high notes
Of the young men and the strong, deep
ones of their elders combined to produce
harmonies both powerful and sweet. Maso
could not keep silence. Suddenly his
voice rose above the rest, and it was SO
full, SO clear and SO sweet that every one