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(From All The Year Round.) " If I could but buy it!” 5 He was only a little brown faced, barefooted ‘ Italian lad. and he stood with his wistful eyes fixed on the window of a dingy shop in a still more dingy London street. Above his head the hot sun poured down its burning rays, but he did not mind that ; it reminded him of his own lanai on some dim cloudless atternoon, when he had had nothing to do save to lie under the shade of the vines on the mountain side, or to listen to the music of some rill of water babbling under cool green leaves, with a stone image sculptured above, that those who sought its shelter might also give due reverence to its patron saint. There were no vines here, and no babbling fountains, and sculptured Madonnas ; only hot streets and countless roofs, and but chance glimpses of blue sky far up above the house tops. Neither were there market days and feast days for innocent merry making: nor any rest or peace tor his little weary body. rjace the cruel black brewed padrone had brought him from across the seas to this country of want, and . work, and endless misery. l I l u u I a,“ No. There was never any peace for him now ; any pause of time when he might dream day dreams of all things beautiful. All was noise, and turmoil. and ceaseless claugor, and unending strife, and life was a sordid, pitiful thing that left him only too often sleepless, and hungry. and foot sore, and with a tired aching in his heart that he could not put into any wards ; that even it put into words would have won for him nothing but mockery and ears. and perhaps blows. n ,L 1.“! 0‘ L:.. Blows â€"wus that a blow now that fell on his shoulder from which the ragged little shirt had partly fallen ? He started and shrank back with the timid. frightened gesture of a beatendog. But it was no blow this time. only the pressure of a strong band on his little shrinking form. " What are you staring at so earnestly ?" asked a kind hearty voice in the language which the child as yet only imperfectly un deratood. _ . A. .. uv. n ..... ” Nothing. Signor Inglese," he answered timidly, and shrank away with his little broken fiddle under his arm. as though he had done something to be ashamed" of. “ Nothing? Why your eyes looked as if they would stark out of your head. If it had been a. cook shop now, or a baker’s, I could have understood it ; you look hall starved. But this old rubbiehmg briok-aâ€"brao place. What the deuce could you see 1here?"‘ 1 "u." u... «~....v v- .wfl _, V He was a young man who spoke. dressed in navel uniform, but his loud, hearty voice bewildered the little lad, whose scant know- ledge of English prevented his understanding what was said. He stood looking helplessly at the stalwart frame and aunburne-i face of his interrogefier, but somethirg in the kind blue eyes gave him courage ac last. He drew a step nearer. “ I look but at â€" this," he said shyly, pointing to an old violin lying among a. heap of rubbish in the window. v. ....,.....__ ._ ".7 “ That! and what do you think of it ?" asked the young man wonderingly. “ It makes music.” {altered the child. “ Music 1 " laughed the young Lieutenant; Ind what of that 7" The little lad‘s eyes grew soft and dreamy. " What 2" he murmured in Italian, “ only that I love it, only that in all this great city it in the one thing that speaks to me of the home I have lost." " Poor little chap," said his interrogator regretfully. “ I don’t understand your lingo but I dare say you‘re 9. vichm of one of those usually padrones who make a. living by send- ing women and children into the streets to work for them. Would you like than fiddle ?" be added slowly, pointing to the instrument aarhe epnke. _ 1 n , ,_l_.:n_ The child did not understand the question. no to make it clearer the young men walked into the shop, making a sign to the little led to follow. An old Jew rose up from behind the counter and peered through the gloom at his customer. “ Vhat you pleashe, sate?” he naked, rub- bing his dirta hands slowly together as i! he scented business. ” Let me nee thaf fiddle you have in the window,” said the young man. “ That ~violine." corrected the dealer. “ Well. I don't know that the name makes any diflerence,” returned his customer. imâ€" patiently. “ Haul in cm of your hold, and let’s have a. look at it. It doesn't seem up to much, to judge by its appearance.” â€"V_, -~ “ It Is one var flue inshtrument sage,” ex- claimed the Jew, indignautly. “ It. 19 an old Italian violiue, of fine make, and of tone won- derful. Try it, sare.” “ Try it 1" exclaimed his customer. con- ‘emptnoully. ‘~ You don’t suppose I should play on a. dirty blackened old thing like that ‘2 I! I ever perpatm‘ed anything in the musical line," he added, laughing. “ 1 should take care to have a fine brand new Instrument, at all events.” "TBéfiVE looked with unfeigned oommisera tion at this displathf musiogfl igporance. “ A new violins." he exclaimed, " play on a now violins. Ah, sure, 1t1ah plain you know not much of music.” “ You re rig ht there,” laughed the young Inflor. “ but I want ta try what the young 9391' does. I found him looking very covet- ously at that rubbishing 0121 piece of wood and ..... ‘ . A ‘ 1‘12”. ” Let that dirty little brat touch my Italian violins? Nevaxe !” exclaimed old Jacobs with indignation. “ Do you take me for Von lool, “are 7 I thought it was you that needed the inehtrument {or yourself; but. that Itreel bratâ€" He turned away contemptuously, and thrust the violin once more into its old place among the cracked China, and dull brasses, and time worn bronzes. and bits of genre, as he called them. The little lad who had im‘ perfectly understood the dialogue. clasped his hands diepairiugly together as he saw the coveted treasure put once more beyond his reach. but his new protector was not to be easily baflled, and he eternly ordered the Jew to give the instrument to him and tell him its “ Twenty pounds,” was the cool response. “ Twenty pounds 1" exclaimed the sailor, indignantly. “ Do you ‘ake me for a. fuel ?" “ No. sate, for a. shentlemans.” answered the Teutonic Hebrew with a. grin; “ but if you Vere a connoisseur, you yould know that this is a. fine old Italian instrument, and worth every penny of vhat I ask you.” M‘v‘iPuit 55:13:: sti‘iugs on it, and} let me see what it’s like," said his ouspomer sh_or§ly. The old man obeyed. and presently handed the violin to its prospective purchaser with its bridge fixed and its strings in playable condition. “You van a bow too ?" be asked with grin: A “ Of course," answered the young man Ioflily, though when the violin and how were in his hands he knew nothing of how to use them. "I used to see old Jack Barber play the thing on board ship elten enough.” he laid ruefuuy; “ but I’m blest if I know how to clan sail on myself. Here boy.” he added' nubeeding the J ew's remembrance. “ see whet yon_oan make of it." a The child took it with reverent tender hands, and without an instanm’s hesitation began to play. Something in the little wrupt face and earnest eyes. as well as in the in- stinctive grace with which he used the bow, and brought the long silent. music from out of that old time-worn instrument, silenced the Jew's remcnatrunces. and changed the young sailor's laughing curiosity to a deep sanction. “ By Jove l the little chap understands what he’s about," he said in surprise. “Curi- ous, how natural music seems to these Somb- em birds. Whut do you think of that, eh i” he asked old Jacobi suddenly. ” Tink ! Why. that he vill spoil my vio- line. and I shall hold you responsible," was the strictly professional reply. The sailor gave a probnged whistle. “ Stow all that trash " he exclaimeiindig- mmtly. “ That lad knows more about the lnstru ment than you do. Spoil it? Those clever litzlo an era ‘2 Bosh! I‘ll tell you mt, though ; ’11 give you five pounds for PIPPO’S REWARD. that old fiddle, and a good offer it is. Take it or leave it as you hko. I mm noon pick up another. I saw some in Levi's m :1 Bhrubh. and he's an old friend of mine." " Levi is my cousin. and he is rich, and I am von ver poor dealer,” screamed the old Hebrew excitedly ; " but Levi has not in all his shop one single Violins mat. is the leash degree so good as that. No. sate ; you would not rob a poor old mun ~, you vill give me for him ten pounds.” “ Five, and not a. halfpenny more," was the resolute answer. as the young man took the violin from the child’s reluctant hands and placed it on the counter. . - ‘ Sevenâ€"â€"sixâ€"five pound ten,” persisted the Jew in a. broken voice, as each abatement was steadily ignored. “ V611, vell, if it must it must. I make you great sacrifice. but it shall not be said that you vet imposhed on by one of my cousin Levi‘s bad violiues. No ; sooner vould I suffer myself than that, and von day you may again see a leetle instru- ment you like "also it shall be a bargain â€"-»if you go. not to Levi. He is noting of a. dealer, noting. I shoulfl not like to see a goot; young gentleman like you imposhed on by him.” “ Allfight, I \ion’vt go to Levi," he said. " Now, put that fiddle in a one and hand it over. will you ?" :‘mShnll infio‘t send him for you 7" asked the dealer, persuasively. “ It shall come toâ€"day, certain." “ Thanks,” said the young Milnr, (mmious 1y. “But you see I‘m not a good judge of instruments, audâ€"ahem-I might f arget what it was like I" The Jew had to confess himself worsted m the encounter, and soon after his strange cua tomer left the shop with the little Italian lad carrying the case anA trotting beside him. “ And I thoughl it wosh be all sailors are so confidingf’ murmured the old Israelite regret~ fully, as he returned to his dingy den. “ I have heard it said so. But still." and he rubbed his dirty hands gleefully ~-" still. it. has not lot me been so bad 9. bargain. Five shillings I give for that old fiddle two years ago, and now five pounds I sell him for; and then I have secured a customer from mine ver Root Cousin Levi l” 1 TI]; young man laughed heartily at this imde and drew his purse out: This last reflection seemed to give him 31- most as much satisfwtion as his bargainr~ not, quite ; for a Jew’s pocket is usually his most sensitive point, and what afi'ecta it is in con sequence his primary consideration. ‘.‘“‘ Meanwhile, the young sailor, Ned Fordyoa by name, and his strange companion went out once more into the narrow oloeo street» and hot sunshine. The little lad broke out into a string of incoherent paesionate‘ thanks that seriously disoomposed the blufl young sailor. who had all an Englishman’s dislike toihe expression of gratitude on the part of any one benefited by his generosity. “ Come‘ come. that will do,” he said good naturedly. ‘ Never mind the Madonna I don’ t. suppose she will trouble herself about a graceless individual like myself. ” The child looked a. little awed and surpris ed. “ No. mind the Madonna," he thoughs; “ well, that certainly could not be a right thing to say.” " Enid ncgw, what. will you do with mis 2” asked his new friend. as they reached the end of the street. “ Play on it." answered the lad readily. ”I may make money now, and the pedrone will not beat ne so much. This has beauti 1111 music in it. and the other was so old and broken it was no use, and the people used to drive me away when I played in the streets ; and as for money, they never gave any for playing. only when I sang.” .I‘vin 1, “You poor little chap." said Ned Fordyce pitingly. p“ What a. life I" “ The life I would love m my own country,” said the child in his eager, imperfect Eng lieh; “ Wander throunh the fields in the moonlight and play while the stars are shin- ing and the nighvi: ignles singing in the thickets. Ah l” He drew a long deen breath; he knew what he felt. but he could not express it in this cold and unfamiliar tongue. The young sailor looked down on him with wonder. The child was a. mystery to him. Then he should desire a. piece of wood and four strings in prefurence to toys or some- thing to out, was in itself a surprise. That he should rbapsodize in tlis fashion about it, regardless of bare feet. and ragged clothes and scorching sun, was a cause of greater aston- ishment still. LiWhere do you live 7” he asked him and- dandy. The child mentioned a low street in the neighborhood of Soho. and, to the further inquiry whether he had any parents, told all his pitiful little tale about having been stolen away from his own country and brought here to earn a. living for a task-master as pitiless as he was unprinoipled. It was a common enough tale in the month of an Italian beggar, but the simple pathos of this child’s dslfi'ery touched his warm hearted acquaint,- ance with a. deeper compassion than he had ever ielt before for any friendless, homeless outcast, and there were many such who had experienced the benefit. of his generous and large hearted charity. ‘7 Will your mastér allow you to play on that violin ?” he asked the boy M the conclu- sion of his tale. , The child was long in understanding the meaning of the quesfiou. but, when he did, a sudden fear flashed into his eyes. “ I don’t know,” he maid. hesitatingly; then his face brightened. “ Netm is very good." he added. “ and I will pray her to speak to the padrone. He minds her always.” " Who is Netta ?” asked hisaompanion. The child looked perplexed. “ She is with Inaâ€"there,” he said, nodding in the direction of the street he had named. “ and she is just Netta, but she'is very good, though sad â€"â€"a1waya sad, and when she dances her feet are. oh. so heavy, but she says her heart is heavier still, and I think it must be,” he added with a sigh. “ Well,” said the young man giving him some loose allver as he spoke, “ go home now and I hope your new treasure will omlive the padrone's auger. and you will not Weary of it very soon. And look here. This is my and I live here. and if you get into any trouble with your master. just you come round and let. me know, will you ?” “ The signer is too good," cxolaimed the boy, raising his great soft eyes to the bronzed and manly face above him. “ I shall never forget himâ€"never, and may all the Saints and the Blessed Madonna herself â€"-” “ Oh, yes, I know all that.” interrupted Fred Fordyce impatiently. “ Never mind the blessings. I have heard them so often and found the more numerous they are the less of gratitude goes with them. Run along now, little chap, and don’t lose my card. I never make empty promises, and if you want me you'll know where to find me.” " I had a rare lurk 20-day." said young Fordyce, as he sat at dinner with his mother and sisters that evening. “ I met alittleItaI- ian beggar boy. and what doyou think he was breaking his heart about 1'” “ PolEnies or macaroni,” suggested pretty Edith. the elder 9f the tyo girls._ “ Not a bit. of it,” said her brother laughing. “ He wanted a fiddleâ€"I beg pardon, I believe I ought to say a violin. He was :1 mm little chap. but couldn’t he play I” “‘Dld you hear him, then T What new not of philanthropy have you been committing 7" The young man looked a little confused. “ Nonevâ€"at least. not exactly.” he replied. “ I couldn’t bear to see his poor, wistful little face there against the window, and so â€"" " Oh, yes, I quite understand," said Mrs. Fordyoe. “ You took him in and bought hxm what he wanted. If it had been a twenty guinea. affair you would have done just the same. You are just like your poor father, His hand was always in his pocket. I think all the beggars in London knew him." “ I am sure it is a good thing Ned does not stay very long when he is on shore,” ex- claimed Edith, “ for the number of crossing sweepers, beggar women, blind men, organ grinders, white mice sellers. andimage dealexs that flock to this street â€"weli, it’s something quite too dreadfnl. Ned is as well known as the Prince of Wales. I think.” Lwrhfir a oomplimom to an shunts ind vidual like myself 1” laughed her brother. “ Well. but. what did you do about. the boy um, lumuiut; : " .wkcd his yuuugur sister. Gertrude. Ned told his tale in a. few words, making so light of the purchase of the violin that none of them imagined it had cost him more than a few shillings. “ I hope, however, you did not tell the child to come here ?” said his mother as be con- cluded his story. “ We have quite enough pensioners of yours already." “ Besides, it is really not safe,” put. in prudent Edith. “ One hears such dreadlul things nowadays about thieves’ kitchens and the like, and 1 dare say Ned would find all his deaf, lame, and blind beggars in full passession of all their faculties and limbs if he only knew where they congregated.” “ W811, ‘ what the e'ye (1th “not see the heart doth not. grieve fox.’ " laughed Ned, as he rose from the table to open the door, “ and I am sure my poor beggars have never done any yang as yet." *' But there’s no knowing what they may do,” persisted Edith. pausing behind the others as they passed out of the dining-room. “ I’m sure when you're away, Ned, I’m always in terror lest some of those creatures should rob or murder us. or set the house on fire. I really am.” “And so I am in the proud position of acting safeguard against. robbery. murder, and incendiarism,” laughed Ned, merrily. What a. pity more people don't know of my valuable properties. I might make quite a fortune by hiring myself out every night : really it would pay better than the Navy, I do believe; besides-w" “ 0h, do be sensxble," exclaimed his sister. impatiently ; “you know very well what I mean. You carry charity too far, and are too indiscriminate in your alms-giving." “ There spoke a pupil of St. Theophilus," said Ned. misahievously, alluding to a certain High Uhurch curate of that name who was deeply smitten of precty Edith. She colored hotly at the words. bun her mmonstranoe was effectually silenced by them, and she left her brother to his solitary desaett and soothing cigar with an indignant; pity for his blindness, that in no waylinteriered with his enjoyment of those luxunss. His usual evening reverie being solaaed thus, and he himself feeling lalily disposed‘ after a long summer’s day outing. in was not to be wondered at if his thoughts wandered off into a doze, and in a hazy, dreamy fash- ion he found himself weaving strange fancies together and becoming the hero of many curious adventures, among which may be re- marked the selling of white mice and plaster images, the dancing in heavy shoes in the muddy streets, the fighting of black-brewed brigand looking padroni, and amid all and through all these varied occupations, hearing the soft sad wail of a violin. whose sounds nothing could stifle nor silence. These sounds were still in his ears as he woke with a start and sat upright in his chair. in that very self-evident, Wide awake manner peculiar 3.0 people on whom slumber has stolen un- iawai‘es in an auspicious moment. ‘ Was it fancy, or was there really a face peering at him through the windowâ€"a ssllow evil looking face with fierce black eyes that glowed through the semi darkness with covetâ€" ous and vindictive longing. He sprang to the window in a. second. It was a. French window opening on to a. balcony, and that a turn in led by a flight of steps to one of those squares or gardens so often found in London suburban houses. The window was fastened by an ordinary heap or look, which did not yield quite freely to the hand. With an im- patient effort he flung it open at last, but there was no one on the balcony, and all the square was solitary and deserted as was usual at that time of the evening. Half fingry at his ownvaudden alarm, he returned ‘0 the room, taking care. however, to shut and bolt the wmdow securely: A n , “ I musn’t tell my mother or the girls," he said to himself, "' or they will be more ner- vous than ever." Then. with one more searching look around he lef: the diningâ€" room and rejoined the feminine members of the family in the pretty lamp-lit drawing room beyond. When he reached the door he paused. Was it only fancy, or was his dream ,still haunting him, for, floating through the air and up to the open windows came the self-same plaintive, sorrowful attains that had been ringing in his earea few moments before. Ned stood quite still, instinctively he knew who the player was, and felt that the little friendless lad had traveled all those hard stony streets to pay this tribute to his young benefactor. The delicacy of feeling which had prompted this ignorant and nntutored child was recognized and understood, even as he would have had it understood. Ned staid his sister’s hand as she was about to toss out some coins to the hidden player. ~ ' “ No,” he said, hastily} “' there am some cases where money in an insult. I know why this child is here." J net as he spoke a sweet young voice lifted itself up, seeming as if it must find its way straight to heaven, with its rich far-sounding notes. On many a. saint’e day the boy had walked in the processions with hundreds of other children, singing what they had been taught to sing, and glad to sing it because the music was beautiful and the saints would be pleased with their service. And as he sang, he was once more in his own land, and above him beamed the eloudless blue of an Italiefi‘é sky, and he saw glowing waters and dancing times, and the brightness of the morning sunlight, and the little grassy paths where the river ran by his side and â€" He woke from his dream with a. start of fear and the snap of a broken string. A shadow fell names the white moonlit road, and a harsh voice mut- tered in his own tongue : “ Thou hast snug enough. so ask for money now.” _ The child shrank back as from I blow. “ Oh, no," he entreated, “ not money to- night. I gave you the money of the kind stranger. I did but come hither to play to him in gratitude, he will understand, he is so noble and good and strong, just, like the Arch- angel Michael in the pictme on the chapel walls, and-" “ Carramba," hissed the man fiercely. “ I hive not asked thee to prate uf archangels and chapels, silly fool. Go. do what I bid thee, of fifty stripes and no supper on thy return home." The child answered never I word. , With proud mute dignity he put his violin back in its case and walked away, leaving his msk mastxr to follow or to beg in his place. He took his stripes and went hungry and bruised and {camera to had. yet he uttered no cry. and gave no word of complaint even to pnying Nehta. In his own simple, childish fashion he thought he deserved such chas- sisement for his disobedience, but in his heart he said : “ I could not have begged of him. I never will beg of him though I saw him twenty times a. day. He heard me play tonightâ€"he will understand." Did Ned Fordyce understand 1’ ‘They were all talking over the beautiful singing in the many lump liv. drawing room, and wondering that it was succeeded by no solicitamon for che usualdonations. “ He is better in the streets.” said Ned abruptlyâ€"almost rudely, Edith thought. “One does notusge nightingales." Was Pippo dreaming ‘P He sat up in his bed of straw and rubbed his eyes. There was a dim light 111 the room. and many forms huddled up in difierent cor- ners. It was close and pestilential and un- wholesome. but the little lad had grown used to it now, and, indeed, was often too weary and spent to notice anything only too sad to lay his aching limbs on his heap of straw and sleep the sleep of utter exhaustion. “ I should like to have that boy in my choir,” said St. Theophilufl. “What a voice. It wag exqu‘isite." What had awakened him now? Had he dreamed that name, or had somebody said it really. He laid himself noislessly back in his straw and listened. Yes, voices were talking, close beside himâ€"the voices of men in the adjoining room. but through the thin part1- tiou he could hear every word. And as he listened and heard, his heart seemed to stand in terror, his face grew uhy gray, his little thin brown hands shook like aspen leaves where they rested on their straw couch. Then there (same Silence, and the light was extinguished, and only the heavy breathing of the many eompanions of his own miserable life sounded through the wretched place, but Pippo slept no more that night. His little heart beat with the agony of an intense fear and the greatness of a. heroic purposenmd the faint pale light of the dawn fell on him lying ithere with wide opened terrified eyes that no isleep had visited. Pippo was not allowed to pursue his usual vocation that day. It was Sunday, and the padrone bade him, in surly accents, remain at home throng h all the long hot summer hours while thge boy’ a whole heart was lull of an intense longing to get away, to put in practice the resulutien he had formed during these terrible wakeful hours of the night. He heard the bells ringing over the still ‘ sultry air, and he knew that the ehmeh doors were open, and the white- robed ehoristers singing, and the people playing in their own fashion. Netta. bought him a dry crust and an apple for his Sunday meal, and he washed it down with a draught of water that was warm and dull-looking. and bore little affinity to the clear sparkling streams from which he had once been wont. to drink. little led, and saw how unfit he was for such a life as he now led, bade him wash his face and come out with her. The padrone had given her leave to take him away, and they would not return until the evening. and she would go in one of the river steamers and get out at some place where there were green fields and shady trees and the noise and dust and glare of the city might be forgotten for even a few hours; ‘ Pippo started to his ‘ feet in delight. Such a. holiday of this Netta 3 had often spoken of and planned, but they had :never been able to accomplish it. He could scarcely believe it was possible even now. His preparations were soon made, and his little wan face was flushed with excitement. and his big brown eyes literally danced with delight as he ran down the dark and crooked stairway to where Netta awaited him in the street below. She was a. rough looking, brown eyed girl of some twenty years. She might have been pretty once. but years of a coarse, sordid. criminal life had taken all the woman- liness from her face and eyes. and left her very hardened and reckless. Then the girl, who pitled the gentle dreamy ' "uLn She took the child’s hand in hers, and to- gether they went out into the hot sunshine. Pippo had lost all memory of what he had heard the previous night in the rapture of this granted holiday. To flout down the river, to feast his eyes on fields once ' more, and see the sky stretching wide and vast above his head, instead of being hemmed in by thousands of roofs ; to hear a bird’s song from the safe free shelter of the boughs, not from the narrow cramped bars of a cage ; to see the tufts of reeds and sedges standing high as his own head on the river banks ; above all, to have no fear of harsh voices and blows for the sweet glad length of a summer afternoon ; this was as much joy as his little heart was capable of holding for hours u‘ftyerl They were lying in a field with the river stretching before thaw like a. streak of silver in the rays of a 11111 August moon. Pippo rested his cheek on the cool, soft grass, and drunk in the quiet beauty of the scene with greedy eyes. A deep sigh passed his lips. “ When would such a holiday be-hia again ?" As the thought was in his mind he heard the tar ofi chime of some church clock striking the hour. Mechanicaliy be counted the strokes. Nina ! At the [mat he sprang to his feet with a cry of terror. sharp and sudden. " Nesta," he: said wildly. “ Netta I must go back. I haul forgotten. 0h, Netta, Netta, wake !” The girl was fast aleep. but, his startled cry roused her, and she sat up and looked at him win: drowsy, stuvefied eyes. “ What is it?" she asked. “ I must go back â€"last night~and then to forget ! Oh, the wasted time! Netta, dear Net'm, let us hurry home ; we may be in time yet. 9h 1 how could I forget? How could I ?" ,I,AJ u”, J 7‘ Win-Zara 3:011 talking about ‘2" asked the girl crossly. Her slumber had been very [919215ng :md eggs difvl not like to be disturbed. 1 1 u- ,,I,:;. “ Oh. Netta i” cried the little lad,his white, terrified face bent pleading toward her. “ Let me go home. I know what they are going to do to-night, those wicked men. Netta, if anything happens to him I shall never forgive myself. I ought to have warned him. I meant to, and then, then~this afternoon, and it was all so beautiful. and I forgot till now. and it is late, andâ€"” “ Don’t be foolish. Pippo," interrupted the girl. “ I know what they are going, to do. and I was told to keep you out of the way. Rest contented ; you can do no good now ; it is too late.” The little lad turned on her with such a look of horror, shame and agony in his great wild eyes as struck her to the heart. “ You know !" It was all he said. Then. with one nppeaL ing glance to the calm, wide heavens that looked so bright and pitiless and far above, ne sprang away like an arrow from a bow, and with fleet feet that baffled the girl’s in- stant pursuit, he traversed the field path by the river side. and was lost to sight m a. few moments. Netts’s senses, though drugged by drink and sleep, were yet quick enough to warn her of the danger in store for her should Pippo succeed in his attempt ; but she was no match for him in speed. and when she reached the landing stage she found there was no sign of him. and the); the last boat had left an hour before. “ He will have to walk all the way,” she thought to herself. “ He onnnat be in time.” But Pipno had no intention of walking. l He had noticed the position of the railway lines, and he I(new they must lead to a. sta- tion, and as soon as he was out of Netta‘s sight he made his way to the little town, and some curious chance or blind instinct guided him direct to the spot he sought. Yet here afresh difficulty awaited him. He had no money wherewith to buy a. ticket. The clothes on his back and the violin in his hand were his only possessions. The engine was screaming and pufiing, the passengers were already taking their places. The child dared not hesitate. He sprang into a. carri- age where the peogle were humbly dressed, and which he thought would be cheapest to travel in. and sat trembling in 3 corner at his own tcmerity until the train was fairly started. Then he rose up and stretched out his little hands in an agony of appeal to the wondering passengers. “ Oh, good people," he cried. " I am a poor little lad, and I have no money‘ and some one I know is in great danger to-night. and I must get to him and warn him. It will kill me if I cannot. I thought the iron way would carry me quickest, and so I came in here,but they may turn me out, for I have no money to pay them. You know how much it is, and I will play to you all the way tor just so many copper pieces as it, may be, Oh, good people. it is {or more than charity, it is for a. life I pray. Do hear and help me. for love of the God you serve l” The passionate appeal, the sight of the lit- tle eager face and tear blinded eyes, stirred many hearts there to sympathy. Before the the child had touched a string or played a note. eager hands thrust the money into his own, and kindly voices were uttering assurâ€" ances of sympathy in his ear. He thanked them with the rapturous eestacy of southern grace that for once overcame his natural shy- ness, and then, true to his word. he played to them. with all his heart in the music be poured forth. The noise of the train bewil- dered him; the sparks of fire and colored lights of signals flashing by dazzled his eyes; the darkness and clamor. as the carriages rushed through the long black tunnels,fright- ened him. as all things weird and strange frighten a child ; but his heart was filled with a brave and steadfast purpose. and nothing but death would have stayed him now. When they,told him he could get no nearer to the place he wamed that. night‘ he bade them all iarewell and got out, and as he stood on the platform, his brown curls glistening in the lamplight. his violin clasped in his arms, his eyes gazing bewildered and frightened ground him. many a woman’u eyes grew dim with pity as the train whirled of} ‘ and his fellow passengers: lost sight of him at l 13“.; There was a. long walk still before him. and the way was strange, and there were but; few people of whom to ask it, and those few i either ignored or misdirected him. The sul try heat of the day which had portended a storm now been to fulfill its promise, and the roll or‘ thunder over head, and the heavy plssh of rain drops on his face warned him l of its approach. Still he battled on meehen- ‘ icslly, although he held a'l storms‘ and warfare of the elements in supersti- tious dread. A clock was striking mid- night when he at last discovered the street he wanted and had searched for so long. He Was drenched to the skin with the heavy rain, and his brain seemed dizzy and bewildered by the shock of the thunder’s roar and the flash of the Vivid lightning. Still, that one purpose was in his mind, and to that patient fidelity pointed as steadfastly as the needle to the pole. When he reached the house it was all in darkness. He had formed no plan, had no distinct idea of what he was to do, only he had learned that a plot was on foot to rob, perhaps to murder his generous young bene< factor, and he must warn him of it. He crept round the house. All was quiet. It was a semi detached villa, and a small garden ran around it leading to a large square at the back of the house. Pippo knew that from the back an entrance would be efieoted ; he had overheard the men say so. Silent as a 1 shadow he flitted up the steps, and mounted ‘the balcony on which two long French windows opened. They were closely shut and shuttered. but as he placed his eye to the pane he caught a faint gleam of light. With beating heart and {face white as death he looked in. The shutters had evidently been unfastened. and throu-Jh the crack this ray shone at intervals. Even as he looked it went out. and all was dark again. The child passed his hand over the window, and found that a whole pane of glass had been removed He then timidly pressed the shutter, and found it gave way at once. The men were here then. and their dastardly work was be- gun. Without an instant‘s hesitation the lad threw back the shutter and dashed into the room. In that second of time the whole scene was photographed on his brain. Two. black masked figures were bending over 3 a heap of plate that they had taken from the sideboard ; and as the boy’s entrance startled them, the light of a bull‘s- eye lantern flashed full on his face. An oath and a blow followed in quick succession. but the lad slipped like an eel through the fingers that sought to detain him. and, throw- ing open the door, raised a shout of alarm that roused every inmate of the hcuse. Then with equal rapidity he sprang on the heap of plunder that the two men had been fastening in a leathern case, and with his feeble arms flung around it. and his little frail body inter- posed between them and their booty. he strove to defend it tor his benefactor‘s sake. “I vuvon’t go" without this," muttered the other with an oath. “ You young devil. will yog _1et_5_go‘?’ ’_ “Come. Luigi." cried one of the men in alarm. “ The whole house is up. We shall be caught. Fly.”r ‘ The little lad did not answer ; his; strength was nearly gone, his breath only came in pitiful gasps. He had but the mute dumb persistence of an inflexible purpose to keep his senses from failing; he could not waste them now in idle words. There was a strug- gle,but the man could not shake off that tenacious hold, and the sound of footsteps warned him to desist. With one last curse, hissed through his close set teeth, he loosed his hold. -‘ Linla devil. at least you shall have your reward.” he cried, and drew a long sharp dagger from his belt. and stabbed him $0 the ham. The red blood rushed in a torrent over Pippo’a arms as still they clasped what he had given his life to defend. A sickness and darkness stole over him; he felt hlS hands relax their clasp. and he tell face downward on the blood-stained flozr an the flash of lights, the sound of voices filled the room. The scene told its own tale, but. the sound of the voice he loved, the presence of the friend for whom his loyal little life had been sacrificed, recalled Pippo’e scattered senses. and through the dim haze of death he stretched out his hands to Ned Fordyce. “ It’s all right, Signor,” be said. “ I kept it. I meant to~to warn you, but I came too late for thatâ€"only I said they should not rob you.and theyâ€"have not I” Ned Fordyce threw himself down beside the little lad, and tore open the ragged shirt, and strove to staunch the fast flowing blood,while his brave young face grew pale as that of the martyrgd chijd. " Why did you do this f" he asked sorrow- fully, “ I would a thousand times sooner have lost all this worthless trash than had a. human lifn sacrificed to save it.” The heavy lids opened, and the glazed eyes seemed to smile. “ You were so good," said the child softly. “ I had always been unhappy till Iâ€"aaw you Perhaps you will remember me alittle~somei timesâ€"and help some other child like myself â€"-just for Pippo's sake. The violin is out there â€"on the balcony. Iehould like to take it with me, becauseâ€"you gave itâ€"for.though doubtless the Madonna will give me one in heaven, it will not be quite the sameâ€"~33 yoursâ€"” ' Then his head fell back like a tired ohild’l, and his eyes saw the face he loved as mere. So Pippo found his rawani. A Hungarian paper, under the title of “ A Novel Ready Made.” tells the following story as one that will shortly have to be told in a law court at Budapest : “ In 185~ a merchant of that town (Sâ€"â€"â€"-( had a son whose extravagance gave him great. trouble, and he thought it best to obtain him a commission in the Austrian army. The young man had risen to the rank of lieutenant when the war of 1859 broke out. ' Being sent against the Piedmontese, he thought proper to desert to the enemy, but on the first an- gagement was captured by the Austrians, and would at once have been brought before a court martial if ho had not fallen dangerously ill of afever. On the day of the battle of Magenta he lay in the military hospital there. The hospital was hastily evacuated by the Austrians after the battle, the patients who were sufiiciently recovered were hurriedly re- moved, and the rest abandoned to the mercy of the French. There were thus left behind in one room the young 8â€"â€" and alieutenant colonel of Spanish origin, Count Rodriguez by name. Between the departure of the Austrians and the arrival of the French, the latter died. and young Sâ€"â€"â€"â€"felt himself strong enough to make such alterations in the arrangements of the room as should indicate that he himself was the Count Rodriguez. The peace of Villa franca found him restored to health and lib- erty and in the possession of Count Rodrig- uez’s papers. cash and name. With the stock in trade our hero set up as a man of fashion in St. Petersburg. where he gained the heart of the daughter of a Russian Rear Admiral. â€"â€"â€"-, whom. with her father’s consent, he married. When the young wife was about to become a mother the false count proposed that they should visit his ancestral home. He did not, however, take her any further than Ham- burg, whence he wrote to his father in law to the effect that the home of his ancestors was, in the French sense of the word, a chat- eau en Espagne, that his real name was 8â€", and that he was in urgent want of funds. The Admiral at once started {or Eam- burg g. but on his arrival, found that his son in law had died of small pox From the pup to left behind him by the deoeased,1t appeared that he was a merchant at Budapestâ€"a fact which became more interesting to his father in law from his uccidently reading an official advertisement calling upon the long lost 8â€"â€" to appear and claim a largeinher itanoe left him by his uncle. as in the case of bin not appearing, in would be distributed among the collateral relationsâ€"Pall Hall Gazette. 85m 6F FORT UN 13. A Few Anecdotes of the Menâ€"Hie Weev tern Reserve Experience. (Cleveland Herald.) The discussions which have been going the I rounds of such pessimistic journals as the New York Nation, to the efleot that all the great men have disappeared from politics are interesting, and upon their face seem to con- tain some truth. At the same time they are born of that tendency of humanity which inâ€" clines to look upon the former days as better 1than these. While in our own state we can look back to the elder Ewing, Wade, Grid-3 dings, Gorwin, Chase, and many other bril- liant and remarkable names. we can be proud in the present of Garfield, Hayes, Thurman, Sherman, Waite and mhny others, who in future annals will fill fully as large a place. But while this is true it cannot be denied that thi great place whieh the stump speech filled in the history of political thought has passed from the earth forever. The daily paper and the facilities which the telegraph and railroad have furnished for the difiusion of knowledge have made the stumpar and his mission di~ minish in a fast increasing ration. Memories of 1820 are to day like the history of an almost unknown or forgotten time. That was practically before the day of the newspaper squib and paragraph, and before the day of rapid transit: and Tom Corwin,the king of stumpers, was the first man to intro- duce ridicule and sarcasm on the stump and make them a success. Pretty soon thereafter George D. Prentice. the great founder of the Louisville Courier Journal, began the work of political paragraph writing and transferred the Corwiman style of discussion to his paper. Many were the fights that came from Prenâ€" tioe‘s jokes. He kept it revolver constantly loaded ani cooked in the right hand drawer of his desk, and whenevera stranger darkened his editorial sanctum he instinctively grasped the handle of the weapon. and ten times in a dozen his conduct was pertinent. The people had to be educated lip to this new ides of freedom of the press. and the border mind was the first to be worked upon. and by the florid genius of a. Prentice. .‘ s ,, A; The fund of stories which the older class of politicians continue to tell of Corwin will never be exhausted. I struck one of these men of 1840 recently. and the relations which he gave me are well worth repeatin? L__L Corwin had delivered one of his best speeches in Salem. Columbiana county. G.. and a. large outdoor audience was convulsed with laughter throughout. It was necessary for him to take the stage for the Ohio river, and in the coach were three young men, one of them my informant. All were teachers and had been to hear the great orator. and felt greatly honored that he was to return in the same coach with them. They expected he would be cracking Jokes all the way and as jolly as he appeared on the stump. 0n the other hand, he was peculiarly moody and sat, and seemed disposed to keep entirely quiet. At length he said : .‘ . ,1," “ The world will always honor the teacher and despise the clown. Would to God that I had never cracked a joke ; but now everybody expects me to be funny, and I am obliged to be so." He then relapsed into silence, and the young men appreciatmg his feelings, were silent to the and of the journey. Quite the reverse of this is the story which the gentleman told of a mass meeting in the cen- tral portion of the State addressed by Corwin and the elder Tom Ewing. Ewing spoke in the iorenoon and Cox-win was to follow in the afternoon. Ewing delivered a carefully prepared speech on the issue of the cam- paign. There was not a single stroke of fancy or wit in the whole talk from beginning to end. The people seemed to be restive under it, and desirous for Corwin to appear. At dinner Mr. Corwin said 2 7 7“ You made‘a great' mistake, Ewing,in your spgtgch ibis mqrnipgfi.” .. . - 1 r- 7 , Mr. Ewing looked exceedingly surprised and annoyed, and sagely asked : “ What could it have been. Mr. Gorwin ?" “ Why, you talked to those people’s brains. They hain‘t got any brains. Lord, wait till I get up this afternoon and talk at the pit of their stomachs; then you’ll see them give aitenlion. They’ll appreciate that.“ Corwin, was attending Dennison university, his teachers became alarmed at his sitting up too late nights, and thought he was over- studying. They wrote to his father in regard to the matter. Mr. Corwin addressed his son as follows on the subject 2 ” MY SON 2 I understand that there is danger of you injurmg yourself by over men- tal exertion. There are so few young men these days that go that way that I desire to say, that should you kill yourself from to much study it would give me great pleasure to attend your funeral." Corwin spoke less on the Reserve, perhaps, than in any other portion of the State. He was fond of relating anecdotes in regard to the peculiarities of the people in this portion of the State. One of these ran something as follows : _ “ I was unfortunate enough on a certain occasion to speak in the little town of D., on the Western Reserve. You have all heard of the Western Reserve and her Yankees. I pre~ sume so I need not particularly describe them. Well. the meeting was to be held in the Presbyterian church. I was escorted to the house by one of the very respectable citizens and took my seat in front of the big, high pulpit. which was boxed up on the side of the wall half way up to the celing. Finally, after a nrolonged deathlike stillness, a man arose back in the center of the room,and said 2 ‘ I nominate Mr. Jonathan Edwards for chairman of this meeting.’ An- other men got up in another part of the room and said : ‘I second the motion.’ After a while another man got up and said : ‘You hev all heered the motion and the second. You that favor it say aye, contrary no. Mr. Jonathan Edwards is elected president of this meeting.’ Mr. Edwards came solemnlv for- ward and after being seated a few minutes arose and said : ‘Ladies and gentlemen : you hev come together tc-night to listen to Hon. Mr. Thomas Corwin on the political issues of the day. If Mr. Corwine will come for ward I will introduce him to the audience.’ I went forward. The chairman said further : fThis is Hon. Mr. Thomas Corwine, who will address you l' ‘~ I thought I would break that dronishness or kill myself. I told my funniest stories. I cracked my best jokes in profusion. I luv- ished remarks that would lay a. southern Ohio audience up with the pleurisy. But all were as solemn as though I was pronouncing the funeral oration over Cock Robin. Occasion- ally I would see a fellow put his hands to his face and hand down as though in devotion, but when his face came up it was again solemn. JARS AS AN INDEX OF CHARAC- TER. “ Mr. Corwine, you said some of the (be he- he) funniest (ne-he-he) things I ever heated (te he he-he). I (111 declare, you come pretty near making me laugh right out in meetjng.’ “ What a terrible calamity that would have been. But to the Western Reserve Yankee a laugh in the house of worship or ‘meetin’- bouse.’ as he calls it, would be an unpardon- able sin.” “ At length I gave up in despair. After we were all out of the church one of them came up to me, and, doubling himself up with laughter, he said : Large ears can hear things in general. and denote broad. comprehensive views end modes of thoughtsI while small ears hear things in particular. showing a disposition to individ- ualize, often accompanied by a. love of the minute. Large ears are usually satisfied with learning the facts of a case, with the general principles involved -too strict enum- eration of details, especially all repitition of the more unimportant, is wesrisome to them. People with such ears like generally. and are as a general thing well fitted, to eonductlarge enterprises, to receive and payout large sums; in buying or selling would prefer to leave a margin rather then reduce the quantity of any sort to the exact dimensions of the measure specified, and in giving would prefer to give with a free hand and without a. too strict calculation as to the exact amount. TOM GORWIN‘ Small ears, on the contrary, desire to know the particulars of a story as well as the main facts: take delight often in examiug. hand- ling or constructing tiny specimens of work- manship. are disposed to be exact with re- spect to inches and ounces in buying or selling to the extent, at least. of knowing the exact number over or under the stated measure given or received. People with such ears would, in most cases, prefer a retail to a wholesale business. The season has arrived when every man who cares to shoot, fish, swim. row. sail or sit on a cool veranda, is expected to join some club. A dozen tip-river and down-river clubs are now being galvanized into life after the winter trance, and anybody who is a good fellow can join one of them under certain con- ditions. One of these conditions is the pay- ment of twenty-five dollars into the club fund. Another is that the member won't swoop down on the club house with more than forty of his relatives without previous warning. He is expected not to growl after fishing all day with a bite ; to stand the sun like a crow-bar ; to eat what is set before him without reference to dyepepsia or billousnees ; to sit on a veranda in the midst of a ten thou. sand acre marsh and believe that he is seeing cliffs and rocks and valleys and other roman- tic things. If a man can get away from his business he can send his mother in law or his hired man to take comfort for him and drive away his share of the mosquitoes. If he can get away. and the line steamer is out of repair on that day. or 03 to Cleve] ind on an excur- sion, he is all rig t just th nme. That is. the rest of the club are there catching whales and feasting like whales. But there is always a chance for improve- ment. and this club business is to be im. proved. In a few days all the good fellows around town will be asked to step into an or. uanization the likes of which every other city must take second-hand. To begin with. the initiation fee is only fifty cents. and dues nothing at all. The club house will be situ- ated at the Flats, and will cover an acre of ground. Every windowis a bay window. and every bedroom is large enough for a family of seven. No mosquitoes will be allowed to ap‘ proach nearer than eighty rods under penalty of five years in State Prison. Twelve diflexu ant varieties of fish will be on hand ready to be caught at any hour 01’ the day or night. Arrangements have been made for invalids to fish through the floor, and able attendants will be in attendance to bait hooks and weigh each fish. Ague, malaria. east wind and rank odors have promised to give th ir sole atten~ tion to other clubs. The meals at the new club house will be the same as at any fires-class hoiel. while the drinks and cigars will be better. Seven pianos have already been ordered for the music, and a brass band will play on every varanda. for an hour before sunset. Gon- dolas will be on call for such as desire them, and steamers and barks for those who want to out more of a. swell. A telegraph line will be erected for use of the guests. and mail will be forwarded six times a. day. In addition to all this the summer (mn- pnign includes a trip to Niagara Falls, free tickets to three oirouses, a balloon ascension. fire works on the list, and a lecture by a celebrated talker. on Why Do I Froth? It seems as if the climax of clubism had been reached in its organization, and there will doubtless be a. great. rush for membeyabip A Ohinaman has a sensitive soul and must be handled gingerly. One of them went to a coffin shop and ordered four cofiins for his family who had died of an epidemic. The cofiinmaker had just five left. and offered the lot at e bargain. First thing he knew his en- raged customer had hit him between the eyes. He thought the coffin man wanted him to die too. The coffin man apologized and begged his customer not to mention it, in he would “ lose face ” if it were known what he had been struck for. But a crowd had already gathered and the story getting abroad, the cofi‘mmaker came nearly being mobbed tor implied insult to his customer. ‘ tickets ......,.-.v.. V_, _., , In Lima, Peru. “ a patriot” had “ set his country free " by storming the President‘s house with a mob and killing the “ patriot " who had " set his country free " in the same fashion a day or two before. The plaza was covered with dead bodies. “ Let us give them Christian burial.” said Herr Von Grelk, a German cofiinmaker; and the government ap- proving it gave him an. order for 500 ooflius. which took him night and day to finish. The mob carried out his oofflns as fast as they were made.and buried the bodies. The‘under. taker had his doubts as to how it would all end, but he said nothing, and let them take his wares away. Finally,when he ventured to ask who was to pay for them. he wished he hadn’t. The mob began to murmur. He was an enemy of the countryâ€"wanting pay for one act of humanity ; and on their hinting that they would see how well be fitted into one of his own coffins he gracefully withdrew from the controversy and allowed the ware- house to be despoiled. The mob retired laughing and the coflin man shut up shop. After many months of weary waiting and im- portunity. ot jeers and roars whenever he mentioned his bill of $50,000 for coffins to the government or the Legislature, his claim was allowed and ordered paid. But the day after another patriot had set his country free and refused to acknowledge the claims on the previous administration. The next day the the president. who had been put to death, was buried, and the coffin maker rushing out, seized the hearse horses by the bridle exâ€" claiming, “ you are thieves â€"the oofiin is mine, the coffin is mine 1” They had to‘ grasp and bind him, he was so fierce, and the mob said he had gone mad. A German ship of war came into the port of Oallao. Von- ;Grelk boarded it and asked the co mander to recover his debt. even if he had bombard ‘the town. But when he told the oflioer that lit was a debt due for coffins he laughed, and iso did his other officers. The old man’s eyes 1flashed a moment and then he sank. broken~ lhearted at his failure and. this ridicule. They 1 were unable to revrve him. They buried him lin the ocean without a oofiin. â€"There is always satisfaction in seeing a man of science avoid technicalities and come right down to good old Anglo Saxon speech. Ami while so many scatter brained impneters are endeavoring to scare people into the her. lief that the planets are going to wreck the world during this year of grace there is solid comfort in the following letter written by Pro‘ fessor- Young to a Nebraska inquirer : “ Princeton. N. J.. March 28, 1881. Dear Sirâ€" It is true that Saturn, Jupiter andVenue are near conjunction and '1‘. near its peri- helion. But they have no influence whatever of any sort on the earth. The nonsense talked about the matter is worthy of the jerk ages. Two tom cats fighting in the streets of Pekin will disturb the world more than all imaginable planetary conjunctions. Yours, 0. A. Young." That letter ought to keep many a good half dollar out of the pockets of peripatetic philosophers who are going about the country lecturing to the credulity of 3 ignorant people. --There is comfort for passengers to Eu- rope in this the tourist season that the At leutio voyage has been reduced to the conve- nience of mere ferry traffic, and that the sea and all its traditional disoomforte have been conquered to men’s sovereignty. Here isrtlg“ latest triumph. The great steamship Arizona » of the Guion Line left New York at 5 p. 121. Tuesday, May 10, and arrived at Que’eustown at 7 a. m. Wednesday. May 18, accomplishing the voyage, real time. in 7 days, 9 hours and 38 mhmtes. â€"â€"John Schmidt’s protest. against the whip ping post in Richmond, Va., is the most for- cible on record. He preferred going to the State Prison to being acourged. and failing in that, committed suicide. â€"â€"-Belore starting for u long day’s fishing rub a little soap on tha ferrules of your rod. -â€"Exchange. Ba sure to put $2 in your pocketâ€"for flab. A SILVER-PLATED CLUB. O( )F'FIN STORIES.