Page 288 - The model orator, or, Young folks' speaker : containing the choicest recitations and readings from the best authors for schools, public entertainments, social gatherings, Sunday schools, etc. : including recitals in prose and verse ...
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A  WHITE  LILY*

                          T    H E   season  of  music  was  closing,   Parepa  Rosa  stepping from the
                                 private  entrance  of  “ The  Grand”  was  about  to  enter  her
                                 carriage  when  her attention  was  arrested:  by  "Please,  mi ladi— ”
                          It  was  only the  shrunken,  misshappen  figure  of  little  Elfin,  the  Italian
                          street  singer,  with  Ilk  o;d  violin  under  his  arm,  but  the  face  nplumed
                          in  the  gaslight,  though  pale  and  pinched,  was  as  delie,'ately  cut  as
                          a cameo.    While  the  eager,  wistfni  light,  in  the  great,  brilliant  eyes,
                          the  quiver  of  entreaty  in  the  soft  Tv:;i'an  voicc,  held her  fur  a  moment
                          against her  escort’s  endeavor  to  save  her  the  annoyance  of  bearing
                          a beggar's  plea.
                            “ Well ?,s
                            The  slender  brown  hands  of  the  dwaif held  up  a  fragrant  white  lily
                          with  a  crystal  drop  in its  golden  heart.   “  Would  mi  ladi,  please? JI
                            “ Do  you  mean  this  lovely  flower  for  me? >J
                            “ Yes,  mi  ladi,”
                            "Y o u   heard  me  sin g?”
                            “ Mi  ladi,  T  hid  under  the  stairs—-’iwas  yesterday  1  heard  the  voice.
                          Oh !  mi  ladi,  I  could  die !  ”
                            The  loud plaudits  of the  world  she  had  just  left  had  never  shown
                          Parepa  Ro&e  the  power  of  her  grand  voice  as  she  saw  it  now  in  those
                          soft  dark  eyes  aflame,  and  in those  sobbing,  broken  words.
                            “  Child,  meet  me  here  to-morrow  at  five  o’clock.”   And  holding
                         the  lily  caressingly  and  stepping into her carriage, she was  driven away,
                            It  was  Parepa  Rosa's  hist  night.   In  a  box  near  the  stage  sat  little
                          Elfin  like  a  child  entranced.   Grandly  the  clear  voice  swelled  its
                         triumphant  chords  and  ran  amid  the  arches with  unearthly  power  and
                          sweetness.   The  slight  frame  of the boy swayed and shook, and a look
                          so  rapt,  so  intense  came  on  his  face,  you  knew  his  very  heart  was
                         stilled*
                            Now  the  wondrous  notes  thrilled  softly  like  the  faint  sound  of
                         bugles  in  early  morn,  and  again  its  sweetness  stole  over  you  like  the
                         distant  chimes  of  vesper bells,   Encore  after  encore  followed.   The
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