1/1911 - 12/1911a - The Lowell

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THE LOWELL
Signor Rossi, on liis death-bed, had commended his only son, Amiel. to
the care of his-supposed friend, Signor Rosaia, who, as understood, kept a
rooming-house in that great, wonderful city, Xew York. And so, when after
the funeral Amiel received a letter bidding him come, he took his beloved
fiddle, all he owned in the world, beside his passage over, and boarded the
boat f< ir America. One rainy morning he landed in the city of his dreams.
Me was soon disillusioned. Instead of the kind friend he had expected, he
found a stern, cruel master, who tyrannized over him and compelled him to
work all the time. Rosaia, no doubt, vented a great deal of his spleen upon
the lad. for he knew that he had no friends to aid him, and he was entirelv in
his power.
Fur some time Amiel tossed and turned on his pallet, but he finally fell
into ;i heavy sleep. Early the next morning ihe harsh voice of the Padrone
awakened him. lie arose, and. though it was scarcely light, tucked his violin
umk'r his arm, and munching a dry crust, departed. All day he stood in the
snow and the cold, and with benumbed fingers played his stock of tunes
again and again, lint all passed him by. It was too cold to stop. Only
once was he rewarded, and then it was with a lonely dime. Till late at night
he siocnl there, fearing to return with such a small sum. less than he had ever
brought hack.
Ai last, about twelve o'clock, the half-frozen lad started back to the
lodging-house. Almost dead with fear and cold, he pushed open the door and
stumbled into the room. Nearly every one had returned. More than one
boy had gone to bed supperless, while some bore large welts on their backs.
Amiel. in silent terror, held out the ten-cent piece in his trembling little
hand. The Padrone said nothing, but his breath came fast, his eyes blazed,
and his hand shook with anger. Grasping the lad firmly, he tore oft' his coat
and shirt, and catching up the lash laid it on the boy's back. At the first
stroke Amiel screamed, but the beating continued and he soon grew too weak
to do more than moan. L'p and down, up and down flashed the lash. The
other boys sat up in horror. Never had they seen the Padrone so angry. At
last lie stopped, and Amiel sank to the floor, his poor little back bleeding, the
great -purple wells standing out on it. The Padrone, his wrath still unappeased.
saw the lad's violin, which lay on the floor. Me caught it up. and
with an oath, broke it over the unconscious boy's head. Then he turned. A
fearful oath sent the terrified boys back to their pallets, lie turned out the
light.
All through the night Amiel lay on the floor, quiet and still, on his face
a smile .if peace and contentment. Signor Rosaia h.ul vented his wrath upon
the friendless boy for the last time. Amiel was beyond his power. He had
found rest and friends. AI. G. MCCI.OIV.IIKV. June "13.
His Best Order.
It had been a dull season, and ihe two young traveling salesmen were
comparing notes. "I had just five good orders in the month of July." said one.
"You beat me, anyway." said his friend. "I got only three orders, and
the third one was from the firm, telling me to come home.''
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