FOR YOUNG FOLK

Northern Advocate, 29 October 1932, Page 7

FOR YOUNG FOLK

ONLY A BEGGAR,

The streets of Naples were thronged with people. It was a glorious summer’s day, and fruit vendors were kept busy selling oranges and other juicy fruits. Outside the Palazzo Reale, where several stalls almost formed a tiny market place, the crow-d seemed to be thicker than ever. Every now and then beggars would plead with the owners of the stall for some morsel that could not be sold, but nearly always were they turned away. Just beyond this tiny market square sat a woman, poor and ragged, while with her were three tiny children, who clung to their mother and cried for food. The mother, nearly driven to distraction by the cries of her little ones, played harder than ever on the old violin that was her only possession.

Each day she tried to earn her living in this way, but her earnings wore gradually becoming less and loss. •She had sat outside the Palazzo Reale since early morn, but no one had given her a coin. There was nothing for it but to sell her violin, and when that money was spent —but the mother’s heart ached as she thought of what might happen then. The crowd just jeered and laughed and passed upon its way, while the bow wont quickly backwards and forwards across the strings.

The afternoon wore on, and evening drew near. Still the mother had not been given any reward for her music. Feverishly she played. Surely someone would take pity upon her. Oh, why was Fate so cruel? She did not notice the tall young man. who was watching her sadly.

Presently he walked over to her and said: “Is there any way in which X can help you? Will you lend me your violin for a moment?”

The mother, surprised at the sudden intrusion and doubtful ns to whether she should yield her instrument to the stranger, hesitated. “If you will only give it to me I may. be able to do something for you, ’’ the man repeated gently. So the instrument was handed to him.

Lifting the bow, he began to play. Immediately the air was filled with music, real music, music that caught the carefree crowd and made it pause. A violinist indeed it was who stood before the people as they listened in breathless rapture to the melody.

Then, someone from their midst cried. “Why, it’s Signor Garcno, the famous violinist.”

The name was echoed throughout the crowd, but still the violin throbbed out its bewitching music. When the piece was finished the musician smiled at the people and bowed. The Italian who had called out the signor’s name took off his hat and passed it among the people. It y r as not long before it was filled with- coins. These were given to the violinist, but he handed them to the beggar. “For you,” ho said.

The woman tried to thank him, but ho changed the subject by asking her where she had got her violin.

“Would you like to sell it? It is a wonderful instrument, and I could get. vou £IOOO for it,”

The beggar gasped. A thousand pounds! Why, that would keep her little ones from starvation for many a year, yet it was with sadness in her heart that she parted with her violin. Signor Gareno handed over the cheque for the promised amount, then he vanished into the dusk.

As the mother happily led her little children home she murmured: “The people gave to him, he who did not want while I could have starved. And it was all because he was a famous violinist while I was only a beggar.”

SAMMY THE SNAIL,

Solomon Snail, Esq., lived with his family in *‘Stone Manor,” just under the hedge at the end of the lane. It was a nice, dry, sheltered house, and as Solomon Snail worked hard, he w-as able to bring up a healthy, prosperous family, with a little money to spare for the next ones who would arrive in early spring. ,

His children did him credit too. They washed and polished their shells punctually each morning at 9 o’clock, and not only were the girls extremely useful about the house, but most of the boys were already earning their living as porters and general carrier.* - —for, as you know, the common snail is quite callable of carrying a load HO times as heavy as himself.

But one member of the family, w'e arc sorry to say, was an exception—and lie was Sammy Snail, the youngest of the boys. Somehow he had always been a trouble to Mrs Snail, though she was very patient with him, and hoped that one day something would happen to make him change his lazy habits. For lazy he certainly was, and as if that were not bad enough, he was also extremely vain, and laziness combined ■with vanity—well, it is rather asking for trouble, isn’t it?

Sammy’s trouble began one day when he was lounging by himself under the hedge, idly listening to the conversation of two grasshoppers. Now the grasshoppers were teasing Sammy, for they knew how vain ho was, and they didn’t really moan what they said at all. “Fancy having to carry, a great lumbering shell about with you,” said one. “Yes,” replied the other, “and having to hide your beautiful back,

too! ” “I wouldn’t put up with it if I were a snail,” laughed the first. But Sammy had heard enough, and he slunk miserably away. It was true, he reflected, how much more beautiful and elegant he would be if only he could get rid of this cumbersome burden —and how the others Would envy him! And then, suddenly, Sammy remembered that tomorrow was “his day” when he would be free to do exactly what he liked. Sammy trembled with excitement as he thought how he would go a whole day without his shell.

But, alas! things seldom turn out exactly as we expect, and poor Sammy remembered his day for many a year to come. He sprang excitedly out of bed half art hour earlier than usual, and was greeted by shouts of laughter from his brothers and sisters.

“Look at 'Sammy!" they cried. “Doesn’t he Took funny?’’ and tney laughed till the tears rolled down their faces, and the stones round the house were quite damp. Sammy hurried to the pool in the meadow and peered at his own reflection. Certainly his back had rallied an odd appearance —what exactly had those grasshoppers meant? he wondered. And then, “.Splish! Splosh!” a shower of rain pattered down, and he instinctively drew in his horns —alas! there ■was no roof to shelter under, and ho sat huddled up and shivering. Even worse was to follow, for without the added strength of his shell he was too weak to pull anything along. He wandered miserably about, not daring to ask his family for food — and then, all at once, his eyes were opened, and ho saw how beautiful the others looked in their shells. The surface gleamed and shone like mother-of-pearl, streaked here and there with amber and pale rose.

He wept bitterly, and dragged himself under a hard stone until his day should end.

“Had a good day, Sammy?” inquired his mother cheerfully the next morning. And a very penitent little snail humbly replied, “Well, I’m rather glad it’s over, Mother,” and snuggled cozily under his roof.

WIT AND HUMOUR.

THE EARLIER AFFAIR

“I hardly feel like a stranger,” said the best man at a wedding; “my friend has so often done me the honour of reading extracts from his dear Ivy’s letters.”

Sir!” exclaimed the bride. “My name is Margaret.”

BROADCAST

Angelina (at last pacifying baby): “Edwin, it is nearly six weeks since dear little tootsie wootsio was born. Have you told the registrar yet?” Edwin (fed up): “Not I. If the registrar lives anywhere within seven miles ’ distance he’ll need no telling.”

THE REASON,

Boy: “What do people have candles on llieir birthday cake for, dad?” Father: “Oh, just to make light of their age.”

FURTHER PERIL,

A: “I hear your daughter won £20,000 in a sweepstakes, old tnan. That’ll keep the wolf from the door for a long time.”

B: “It may keep the wolf from the door, but I’ve noticed a lot of young ‘cubs’ hanging round.”