Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1896-01-23

you 10 Your mansion"
You love her now-she is every
thins to You, Time may be, however.
when YOU may be led to make odieus
comparisons between her simplicity
and the winning faces of beautiful
women"
My kind benefactor, that is impes-
Sihle, shall always love Maggie as
much as | do now"
Jahe2 Wilson sighed. 1t was sad
blow to his vanity and to his peace
of mind.
Think it over, lad" he began,
when the first pangs of grief at part.
ing are passed, you will forget about
your lowly girl in the whirlwtnd of
Your fame, and she will soon put you
from her mind. Come to me tomor-
row and let me know what YOU intend
doing"
The next day Mr., Wilson received a
visit from Maggie She came In tears
to beg his consent, his heart was
touched at the sight of woman in
sorrow, and, reviling himself for a
cold-blooded monster, he told her, in
an outburst of generosity, to go and
marry Luigi as many times as she
liked.
After a twelve month spent in Italy
Lutg! became perfect, His first APP
learance in public was made as Ger
ardo, and, as he reiterated behind the
curtains that night, old Jaboz Wilson
waited to press his hands and tell him
that his dream was at last realized.
JaheZ Wilson walked out of his so.
licitor's Office ponniless, The bank OF
which he was principal shareholder
had failed, and this. in conjunction
with a few minor disasters, had robbed
him of every penny he had possessed
He had never in his life done IA
stroke of work, and was not even ca
pable of n clerical position
The apartments he had occupied
were given up; the club was never
again to see him or hear what had
become of him; the fine old wines in
his cellar fetched sufficient to pay his
long standing rent, with surplus to
keep him in food and lodgings for a
few weckstha was all
From his scanty store he drew II
penny every day to search the papers
for news of luigi's success. He could
not bring himself to write TO him and
to tell him everything. 1t was pleas
ant enough to know that the man
whom he had dragged from ohscurity
should at that moment he making
Europe vibrate with the splendor of
lis voice
One night as he crouched over the
fire in the 5oss house he freQuentcd,
reading the paper, short paragraph
at the foot of column caught his
eye.
EARLY yesterday morning the body
of woman was found in the Grand
canal at Venice. She IL said to he the
wife of Sir Luigi, the well-knoWn sin,
ger, with whom she is supposed to
have led wretched life. There are
no marks of violence on the body. and
/ the authorities have passed verdict
of suicide while temporarily insane"
Jabez Wilson's forecast had been rea-
lied only too fully and the broken
down man cried like child.
A week later he stood outside the
doss house with exactly a penny In his
pocket,
He stood wondering what he should
do, when his musical instincts which
had been crushed and lain dormant
for so long, arose within him. He
hurried along the street entered shoI
and purchased a tin whistle with his
one remaining copper.
An hour later as he walked slowly
along the middle of the road, his
threadbare coat buttoned up around
his neck, an old battered hat pressed
tightly down over the struggling gray
hair, that blew in the cold wind, and
his dry lips pressed against the
whistle, he was playing Home, Sweet
Home"--that was all he knew
In front. Of n respondent hotel hC
stood and played, with one foot on III,
pavement. A tall, black bearded gen.
tlcman, evidently a foreigner wrapped
in a priceless fur coat, came down Tho
steps of the hotel, in company with
beautiful woman, in the full glare Of
the lamp,
Instinctiyely the instrument fell from
the lips of the player. as he muttered
half aloud:
"Luigiw
The Italian peered into the pale,
Einched, upturned face.
80 you have come to this, eh?" he
asked In a whisper, lest his companion
should hear, at the same time drawing
haIf a crown from his pocket my I'M
fortunate friend"
He turned abruptly. half ashamed
when the woman by his side told him
TO come away from the beggar
II come, Mrand." Then as she took
his arm and he handed her In a
brougham, Il have pity for these poor
musicians. "-Pearson's Weekly