The Intermountain Catholic. (Salt Lake City [Utah] ;) 1899-1920, 1904-12-24
THE LUCKY LITTLE FIDDLER.

The clock on the great stone church at the corner
showed that it only haf-past SIX but the short
November afternoon had long since deepened into
darkness. The lights on the avenue shone with a
Pickering CLEAN through the fast falling snow.
Suddenly around the corner came figure. and
it paused under electric light, the rays fell on
slender little lad in shabby garments with a
violin clasped tightly in his arms.
The boys face was thin and pale and the great
brown eyes seemed full of unshed tears. YEARLY
he leaned against the post. No cared to listen
to him today, and he would have no supper Neither
breakfast nor dinner he had had, for that matter.
Oh, it cold. and he hungry.
Perhaps he might lie down here in the snow and
an angel might see him and take him up to Para
disc. What was that verse; All yes! "And they
shall have neither hunger nor thirst"
What a beautiful place that must be! He won
dered if little Patrick the bootblack, was there now
Patrick had died in the early fall.
How many nights they had shared a bun or bit
of fruit together and planned dazzling future
when he was great musician, and Patrick bank
er, living on Fifth avenue.
Well, Patrick had found better home than
the palatia mansion he had pictured; but he was
\ Just tired hungry little street waif.
As he stood there III a sort of stupor. a light
flashed from window across the way. The curtain
was up and he could see into the luxurious din
ing room where preparations for the evening meal
were going on. The sight of that tempting table
filed him with fresh strength and crossing the
street he drew his bow across his violin and began
to play
Now, in that great mansion lived woman past
the first bloom of youth but with its traces still
upon her. stately, naughty woman, possessed of
many talents, she dwet in the luxurious house
alone. All her kindred had crossed the dark river
and she was left the last of a noble family Society
admired her, but stood in of her. She gave her
money with lavish hand to charities, herself she
never gave.
While possessing much that makes life miser-
able Elnor Wentworth had missed the best in life
Tonight she sat before the open fire, bored list
less look on her handsome face. She would have
to go abroad this winter, she thinking. Home
was unbearably dull.
Suddenly she raised her head in wonder
Through the still night air came the sound of a
violin Louder and louder rose the plaintive notes.
and so full of sadness were they that tears unbd
den came to the listeners eyes.
Hastily ringing the bell, she ordered the serv-
ant to learn who was playing outside in the bitter
night.
He came back in moment: Twas nothing but
a beggar lad and he would send him away
She cried out imperativey to bring him in
Bring him right in here" she said to the as
tonished man.
The boy entered, his weary face full of dread
Probably she would send him to the police station
"What is your name!" she commanded
Donald Sheppard, a'am," he replied slowly.
PLAY for me. Anything" and Miss Elinor seat
ed herself, and watched him closely.
He played simple little melody but as she
looked something stirred her thoughts Once long
ago. she had little brother with just such beautiful
dark eyes. She had worshiped him, and had cried
our fercely when he had been taken away
What if Stephen had been left to the mercy of
the cold world. The old, tender impulses, so long
restrained, leaped forth
"Stoplp she cried, and calling him to her. held
has cold, little hands i'm her own warm ones while
she said gently: