LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2252, 21 June 1881, Page 4

LITERATURE.

FIFO’S REWARD. ( Continued .) Tho child answered never a word. With proud mute dignity he put his violin back in Its case, and walked away, leaving hie taskmaster to follow or to beg in his place. Perhaps the man had a reason of his own for choosing the former course of conduct. I« any case the group at the window were not beset by any request for alms, and only Ned Fordyce's sharp eyes wondered why that slouching shadow followed on the heels of the little lad, who was flitting down the quiet street with the pale moon rays shining on his bare brown head, and a look of patience and courage in his eyes strangely at variance with his tender years. Ho took his stripes, and went hungry and bruised, and footsore to bed, yet he uttered no cry, and gave no word of complaint even to pitying Netta. In his own simple childish fashion ho thought ho deserved such chastisement for his disobedience, but In his heart he said, ‘ I could not have begged of him. 1 never will beg of him though I saw him twenty times a day. Ha heard me play tonight—he will understand.’ Did Ned Fordyoa understand 7 They were all talking over the beautiful singing in tho pretty lamp-lit draw-ing-room, and wondering that it was succeeded by no solicitation for the usual donations.

* I should like to have that boy in my choir,’ said St. Theophilus ; ‘ what a voice. It was exquisite,’ ‘ He is better in the streets,’ said Ned abruptly—almost rudely, Edith thought ; • one does not cage nightingales,’ Was Pippo dreaming ? Ho sat up In his bed of straw and rubbed his eyes. There was a dim light in the room, and many forms huddled up in different corners. It was close, and pestilential, and unwholesome, but the little lad had grown used to it now, and, indeed, was often too weary and spent to notice anything—only too glad to lay his little aching limbs down on his heap of straw, and sleep the sleep of utter exhaustion.

What had awakened him now 7 Had he dreamt that name, or had somebody said it really. He laid himself noiselessly back in his straw and listened. Yes; voices were talking close beside him—the voices of men in the adjoining room, but through the thin partition he could hear every word And as he listened, and as he beard, his _ heart seemed to stand still with terror, his face grew ashy grey, his little thin brown hands shook like aspen leaves where they rested on his straw couch.

Then there came silence, and the light was extinguished, and only the heavy breathing ofithe many companions of his own miserable life sounded through the wretched place, but Pippo slept no more that night. Pippo wrs not allowed to pursue bis usual avocation the following day. It was Sunday, and tho padrone bade him. In surly accents, remain at home through all the long, hot summer hours, while the boy’s whole heart was full of an intense longing to get away, to put In practice the resolution he had formed during those terrible wakeful hours of the night. He heard tho bolls ringing over the still, sultry air, and he knew that tho church doors were open, and the white-robed choristers singing, and tho people praying in their own fashion.

Once he bad been wandering through the streets on a Sunday morning, and had found hla way to the doors of a great cathedral. The sound of the singing and the sonorous swell of the organ had made him forgetful of shyness and strangers, and he had crept nearer end nearer, until at last he pushed open the swinging doors and stood within. He bad been lost in a dream of wonder at the beauty he saw—at the marble pillars and the moulded roof, and the flood of light that poured itself in - every rich and varied hue through the stained-glass of the windows, bat it was the music which he thought of most. The tuneful harmonies of trained and perfect voices ontraacrd and awed him. It was so beautiful—oh, so beautiful!—and he stood drinking it all in, in passionate ecstasy of delight, thinking that this must indeed be the heaven his priests had told him of. He was a little ragged footsore child, with tare head and shoeless feet, sun-tanned and not over clean, for the padrone oared little for such trifles, and water was a luxury to be prayed for in the dingy crowded room whore ho and many of his country-folk ware aT huddled together. Only a little ragged child, a beggar who played on that tuneless broken violin for a livelihood ; and it was no wonder that when a great personage with sweeping robes and the majesty of official dignity on his brow, saw him standing there, ho waxed wrathful and indignant at such audacity. In an instant he bore down upon the delinquent, and fiercely ordered him out. The child looked in wonder at his angry face and disgusting gestures. True, ha was only a little beggar, bat might not beggars go to ohuroh if they so wished ? In his own land the bare feet of peasants and lazzaroni trod the same floor that was swept by the silks and laces of great ladles. He had never been turned out of chapel or cathedral there. But he was too timid to expostulate, and so shrank away at the great man’s bidding, and left the music and the service behind him again ; nor ever after that dared venture into any place of worship, for lu bis heart grew a fixed idea that the English God was only for the rich and prosperous ; that He did not want beggars and wanderers to worship at His shrine. So now on this bright Sunday morning he heard the sound of ringing bells, and pictured to himself the soene of that one effort of his to penetrate into an English church, and then ho crept away into a corner, and took out his new treasure, and wove fresh melodies out of his own dreaming fancies, and forgot that he was living in misery, cruelly treated, and hungry often, and with never a living being to speak softly and tenderly in bis ears. The music carried him away into a land of forgetfulness, and his eyes brightened and his lips smiled, as the lips of a child who slumbers and dreams of beautiful things that his waking moments never know. Netta brought him a dry lorust and an apple for his Sunday meal, and he washed it 4pwn with a draught of water that was warm and dnll.iooking, and bore little affinity to the clear, sparkling mounta'n streams from vp]*ich ho had once been wont to drink. Then the girl, who pitied the gentle, dreamy IrjjUo, lad, and saw bow unfit he was for snclga life as he now led, bade him wash his come out with her. ~)Trapadrone had given her leave to take hipeffway, and they would not return till tj\p, evening, and sho would go in one of the river and get out at some place

/ t>Here were green fields and shady •oqs, anflith o noise and cut nd glare of the aty might. be forgotten for even a few IQQfS.t O 'oil!. i r4ppp to his feet in delight. Such a holiday fta.thla Netta bad often spoken of they had never been able .,He could scarcely be’iove t ,w«3spos|Jbjo eycn now. , ghe,.jtoqk..,ihqvfibild's hand in hers and iq paq eyipps night in the rap;hcqopithip .granted; i}ffUd#y. To float down ;h,atft on fields once nqrje‘anq afle,tfip kMI sky stretching wide oy a" 1 k)'< little heart capable of holding ■OfcMW a|tpr, rov q cjl, .IXI.O S:-Sveya-lj-}.pg ,»u.a Celdimth' the river . tng betorq silver a ttie Vay? 9f; a i l l tll ;iU(gust, .Pippo 'obi9 e k, • pn-.tqpj and Irank an. the guiat. bqauty o| the ISpenq.tyith grsody ffirq*,,;. A' dqep Mk • wtww-iwphjdsueh ajMiday Mai* agam# thought ip, hv* miM M'hwAtho arrpfrohqme op soma,^hprch.clock striking ihq ;honr. MeohanlcrdlyMi c.puntqd Jbho itrfth.es. ~ At,the, last ,he sprang So t lia-irfpat with a ery qf ; terror, sharp/ PhA uijdeni i or - ! lo b'.7)V‘t ■ hhn/a M ;■> *. Netta,’ he . said wijdly ; ‘ Netta," I, must 'o'bapk, I. 'had: joßigotten. i)b, Netta; Mttp,oWfcftlol fejJja ud Jr'ui ■ }r„- i-nsvoE Xhje,girpW»3 fast asleep, but hU startled ■ry- reused, Mr, Upaqd peeked it him iw&h d,yowßjr.Stupefied eyes.;. r ,, .‘•Whitis i*?V aJ»P Mke4- ». nice .'tv Mi qvnsj; go ; bqqk-rlia?fe.night—and then o; lfir«9tJ/;;Qh,utho,(tvaetfid &mq.b, Nnt.t*,,, lear ;Netta,det p? .feui*yfloike Jw n tiqie.yet .Ohl-hoX; odpldj !■ forget ?, . [3*. ,;tYhafciare.you talking ql>oat asked, the crfteely.n i heenoyery;, afewanfc and pho.dj'd to hedis;urhed«oq iia "I :ii Hay ;,v. y. y/r idotipm Ejaeoqo'iq oJT .s'.'ffaq jJ) lo o:.; li.'.jva a a.M

* Oh, Netta!’ cried the little led, hie white terrified face bent pleadingly towards 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—this afternoon, and it was all so beautiful, and I forgot ti'l now, and it is late, and——’ ‘ 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 1’ It was all ho said. Then with one appealing glance to the calm wide heavens that looked so bright and pitiless and far above, he sprang away like an arrow from a bow, and with fleet feet that baffled the girl’s Instant pursuit, he traversed the lieldpath by the riverside, and was lost to sight in a few moments. (To he Contained, .)