The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1898-03-04
miscellaneous
THE OLD FIDDLER.

HE ULD TlDDLLh.
They passed our door several times
a day for more than year. He, thin
and bent, with grey whiskers and long
grey locks falling upon his collar, wore,
summer and winter, an old fashioned
frock coat, closely buttoned up, and a
high silk hat which was far from new
when first saw it. Sometimes he
went by alone. carrying a violin case.
She was "a neat, trim little body much
Younger than he and accommodated
her brisk steps to his slower ones.
Her plain gowns, quaint little wraps
and rather gay bonnets were evident
ly the work of her own hands and the
same trimmings were used, again and
again, and changed about from one
thing to another.
One day a sudden downpOur of rain
caused her to take shelter under tree
in front of our house. |, sorry to see
her newly-made over fall bonnet in
danger of being ruined, caught up an
umbrella, ran out and asked her to
come in until the shower was over
She accepted my invitation and thank
ed me for my kindness to Il stranger.
Il have seen you pass so often, l
said, that do not feel that | AIN a
stranger. Your hus band is d musician,
is he not?"
Yes, Madame" with slight for
eign accent, land he should be rich
and famous instead of playing the
violin at little parties and when eX-
tras are needed at the theaters. He
has composed grand opera and many
other beautiful things but he has not
any money or friends to help produce
them. Our families are very good.
indeed drawing herself up with
pathetic air of pride, land we might
have done very we'll had we remained
at home in Germany. but Mr.. Jannow
was ambitious and had heard so much
about the fortunes made by musical
people in America that we came over,
wears ago, and staId for while III New
York. Then we went to Chicago, and
came to Washington about eighteen
months ago. Fate seems against my
poor husband and his health is never
good; the doctor says his heart is af-
fected. But boring you. dear, with
our small affairs is poor return Tor
your courtesy"
Indeed, you are not boring me, "
| protested. Tell me more about
yourselves. Have you any children?"
lone daughter, Madame, our Minna,
the best and dearest that parents ever
had. She's so pretty and has such "a
truly beautiful voice. Her father
trained it, carefully, but she has no
one to help her any more than he has.
He don't care about himself, now, but
he would give his life to see her the
great prima donna she would be with
oI Sha mead n holm him
with the pupils and sing in church.
Three years ago she was offered IA
place in the chorus of an English
opera company. The people were all
quite respectable and we could not
say no, though it was so hard to let
her go alone-I could not leave her
father-for it was a beginning and
might lead to something better. She
came back at the end of the season
and staid with US until the company
went out again, but she was much
discouraged and said there was no
chance of anything better with them.
After awhile, in New York, she got
another engagement and much larg
er salary but that company did not
come to Chicago before we left and |
have not seen her since. | am sure
she is sending US nearly all of her
money and depriving herself of every
thing but bare necessarieS, but she de-
clares she is not. We are not using Il
bit more of it than we can help. We
are saving it for her though the dear
child does not know it. There is my
| husband. | will run out and 20 home
with him and thank you, dear Ma
dame, a thousand times for your good
hess.
After that, the old gentleman al
ways lifted his hat and bowed very
| low. when he saw any OF us and Mrs.
Jannow often stopped TO talk to me
about her Minna. One morning, she
came in half crying. She had had a
| letter from her daughter, the day be
| fore, saying she expected to be in
Chicago soon, and what Il pity it was
| that her parents were no longer there.
| Mrs. Jannow had written, at once to
say that they would be; there was
nothing to keep them iii Washington;
| but that very evening her husband
was given IA permanent place in the
orchestra of the New Theater, but
maybe Minna will come here, too.
am famlshed for sight of her.
haven't even good photograph; only
a poor little thing taken when she
was fifteen and she is twenty-siX now.
She always says she has no money to
waste on photographs. She is not
one bit like most girls in the profess
sion, always posing for pictures.
What is the name of her com
pany?"
Il don't think that ever heard. !
write to an address in New York and
! it is forwarded to her if she is on the
road. She never says anything about
the members or the company. They
are good people, no doubt but Minna
is very reserved and particular and
probably has not much to do with
them. | am afraid that she is study.
ing too hard for she does not write
so often or such nice long letters as she
used to.
My husband and | went often to t he
theater, and had seats, one Monday
evening, in December, to see comic
opera company, the star of which
Mile. Mana, was famous for her
audacity and escapades. For months
the papers had been full of her HeI
style of dresser rather undress-es
pecially in her latest role, was said tC
be quite startling even in these days
when it takes good deal to shock the
average audience. The pictures pub
lished certainly were and, though thu
figure was remarkably fine, Mrs. Jan
now and agreed that Mile. Mana al
ways had her face turned away.
Even a French actress" said the
old lady, primly, Ought to be asham
ed of such Il costume
She was pleased, however, when
asked her to 20 with me to the theater
business having called her husband
away that afternoon. She had been
once or twice, in the "familY circle