The daily morning journal and courier. [volume] (New Haven, Conn.) 1894-1907, 1898-05-02
pAoL1, THE MUSICIAN.


an humble manner when they left their
Italian home a year ago-to California,
| another sunny Italy-and be happy and
make lots of money. For was not
Paolis father a prosperous fruit mer-
chant in the city so far away in the
west, and had he not sent them the
gold that would bring them across the
sea and land to him?
But Paoli arrived in San Francisco
only to find that the fruit merchant,
his father, had been dead a month, and
all the money of the deceased fruit
dealer had been used to defray the fu-
neral expenses.
Every day Paoli would kiss his weep
ing Flosca and little Anita, and tramp
the streets of the big city looking for
something to do, he knew not what.
His countrymen were kind, but alas,
so portland Paoli would not accept
aims. 1t was work he wanted.
The weeks passed. The little hoard
| of money was almost exhausted, and
Paoli's shoes were worn out from much
weary walking over the hard cobbles,
and then When sore and discouraged,
| the tired musician would step softly
| into the big cathedral and refresh his
| heart and soul with the music that was
| so dear to him.
| 1t was one one of these days that a
kindly priest, noticing the pale and
haggard face of the stranger, and
recognizing a. countryman, stopped to
| speak a word of encouragement. In
\ few moments Paoli's sad story was
| told
The interview ended by Paoli receiv-
| ing an invitation to call that evening
| at the study of the priest, who would
| give him some music to arrange, and if
the work was well done, there might be
| much of it to do in the future.
| So the months passed and Paoli
| worked hard with the music. He prov
| ed himself to be possessed of rare must
| cal genius, although he was too mod
est and timid to tell his benefactor at
the cathedral all he could do.
| All day long he would write at the
little dingy windoW-all day long and
| far into the highland O'Rourke, the
policeman, would peer through the
| broken shutters and speak a kindly
word to the brave little man bending
| over his work
| - hS, INC piS ppiiSCilie'ii, toptN q
| strange interest in the little musician,
and every night would stop at the
shutter to speak a few cheering words
or to give vivid description of the
latest brawl at the corner saloon.
Once, when the rent man was max
ing daily trips to the poor little home
and Paoli would plead for more time,
O'Rourke took the collector to one side
as he left the door with a scowl on his
face and guaranteed the pay. One
day Paoli, with many gestures and
much broken English, had told his sad
story to O'Rourke, and from that time
on the policeman was a friend indeed.
1t was nearing the holidays, and
great preparations were being made
at the cathedral for the celebration of
the services of the Christmas season.
The singing was to be grander than
ever, and the music especially fine.
FIR Bassini called Paoli into his study,
and placed in his hands the mass of
a famous composer,
Here, Paoli, is our Christmas mass.
1t Is all manuscript, as you see, and
written for low voices. Transpose 1t
tone and half higher, and arrange
it for the organ, with full orchestral
accompaniment. 1t Is a task to try
all your skill, my son. and you must
work fast Have 1t ready the week
before Christmas-and here is some
thing to keep your spirits up"-and
| the good man pressed some gold pieces
into the trembling hand of Paoli.
/ What Joy it was to Paoli's heart as
he lovingly turned page after page of
the reat mass-and 1t was in Mozart s
own writing, too.
AS he scanned page after page he
came to the prima donna's solo. This
was to be the grandest part of the
whole mass, and Paoli followed rapid
ly, breathlessly, note after note Of the
music.
Suddenly he stopped short and jump
ed to his feet, with eyes aglow and
nerves a tremble.
81 would not have arranged it SO: a
B fiat here and minor there"-the
words came rapidly, almost inarticu-
lately with the intensity Of the inspir-
alton that came to him, as he viewed
the music spread out on the table.
Then suddenly seating himself at his
precious harmonium he began to play.
softly, tenderly, using the composers
air, but his own harmony, humming
the words in low, sweet tones. At the
solo he began to sing aloud.
His voice rose clear and sweet, full
of the intense emotion that filled his
soul. O'Rourke, startled from his doz-
ing in friendly doorway looking heav-
onward, half expecting to see an angel
host. A drunken man, stumbling by,
paused in his uncertain walk; then
took off his hat and crossed himself.
F'losca SMILED in her sleep as the first
sweet tones fitted by her dreaming
ear; but now awakened she stole to
the door.
at is Mozart's mass, and I have
changed it. Do you hear, Flosca, mia
I, Paoli, have made more beautiful the
work of the great master +" but,
unable to bear up under the excite
ment, the little artist sank to the floor
with Flosca's soft, warm arms around
his neck smile on his lips and the
music of paradise in his ears.
| Paoli delivered the mass on time,
with few hurried words of expIana-
ton to FIR. Bassini, and fled, not hav-
ing the courage to stay and listen to
the rehearsal.
The priest, with a look of surprise on
his face FASTENED to the organ loft