Connecticut western news., 1894-08-16
THE SHOEMAKER.

THE SHOEMAKER.
 In mountain girt Salzburg, noted if only for being the birthplace of Mozart, there dwelt once shoemaker of the name of Siebold Veit. Notwithstanding the lowliness of his station, this disciple of St. Crispin burned incense assiduous ly before the muses Like the village Milton immortalized by Gray, Herr Veit had been debarred in youth by "chil penury" from the acquisition of
 knowledge, but maturer days brought him many recompensing opportunity for 8 glance at the pages of wisdom. All was grist that gravitated to our shoemaker's mental millstones, and the stores acquired thus promiscuously from reading and hearsay were never lost or suffered to molder for want of expres- sion. Indeed his application of what he gleaned was frequently so inoppor tune as to excite the hearty laughter of his honest but critical neighbors. Yet he paid little heed to their merriment, and today was as ready to excuse the shortness of their boots with ''brevity is the soul of wit" as to assure them tomorrow that their old shoes were brought ''never too late to mend. "
 Siebold was n bachelor from choice, but often let parts of the house, aquaint red tiled, low ridged, many gabled dwelling at the end of one of the serpen- tine streets characteristic of Salzburg At the time we peep into his life we find him landlord of Gabriel Stoss, a student Herr Veit's proximity to so animated cyclopedia proved such stimulant to his love for learning as to be we'll nigh inebriating. The mere creak of the stair, us the scholar went to and fro, was sufficient to make the shoemaker's imagination reel in visions of the feast of reason that the very steps groaned to support.
 Occasionally in the evenings the stu dent would drop into his hosts cozy workroom and read him versions of the Greek and Roman writers, and, carried along by his listeners whole souled at tention and undisguised rapture, would not infrequently continue the inspiriting myths away into the night. At such times the simple toiler's delight culmi- mated in nothing short of ecstasy. Once when the student had retired with his little red margined volume of legends his admiring auditor actually stole into the vacated chair to satisfy himself that an exchange of seats did not entail, priori, 8 transfer of knowledge, and hastened to bed, where before long he lost sight of sordid and hampering real ity in the blissfulness of dream that brought in its sequence the attainments of the professor of ancient languages in the very college attended by his lodger.
 One summer evening, having finished his work early, the shoemaker sauntered out upon his porch to smoke and medi- tate the while on a recent narration of the students. The story took his fancy so much as to incite him to action. Dur ing Herr Veit's musings the sun set. The retired street grew still and dark. Lights appeared here and there behind small diamond shaped panes and em- phasized the descent of night. Suddenly knocking theashes from his meerschaum, the shoemaker entered his domicile, and, acting upon his cogitations, took down his time worn fiddle and drew from it a few strains-a return to his former mis- tress, music Away back in his youth he could recall the days when he han dled the bow with no mean skill, but for many a year he had neglected music to delve in the more alluring field of let ters. Now again he applied himself to his instrument with fervor which made use of every spare moment until his old art returned so ravishingly that the wondering neighbors strayed in to hear him at his new caprice. But they withdrew ever with jocund faces, for try as they would to refrain from smiles Herr Veit was sure to elicit merriment in the end by some such observation as. We're never too old to learn?"
 It waSon a morning after he had been practicing five months that the shoe maker closed his shop, locked up his rooms, and mounting the steep, bare steps that led to his lodger,s quarters
 left the key with Gabriel, adding that
 he was not to be looked for until his re-
 turn. Leaving the youth at the head of
 the stairway, key in hand, gazing won deringly after him, our itinerant musi.
 clan covered carefully his violin with his long gray cloak, drew his broad l topped woolen cap over his eyes and 1 passed into the street, free at that early hour of pedestrians. He made his way | over bridge across the Salzach to the brown meadows beyond the town. II
 was a most exhilarating morning. The
 Salzach, as it foamed between the peaks | fo hoy ,lrC 1ol
 inerberg to the right gloomy, rugged
 Monchsberg on the left, seemed to brawl
 more jubilantly than ever of it's descent
 from the distant Tyrolese Alps. The sur
 had not yet risen above the misty
 mountain tops, so the city lay in shad
 ow, but the color suffusing the sky, and
 the glistening of the frost on the fallow 1 meadows, and an occasional strain from
 some stirring songster betokened days advent The fresh air seemed to impa9t
 unwonted buoyancy to Herr Veit Ht
 open country adjacent to the city. Up
 lands and lowlands he traversed for sev
 eral days, pausing often to break the stiffness of dell and glade with the dul
 cet voice of his violin.
 At last he came upon 8 hamlet nes
 ting, like his own picturesque town, II
 a stream threaded valley at the foot oi
 a range of hills. The dampness of ths
 day yelled the hilltops heavily in mist
 circumstance which seemed to disturt
 the simple villagers very much. They
 were gathered in a knot in front of tht
 mountains regarding wistfully the sum
 mits of the nearest range. The wander ing musician. following the path tha