PHIL, THE FIDDLER. 
 
PHIL THE FIDDLER; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE STORY OF A YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 
 
 BY 
 
 HORATIO ALGER, JR., 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE " RAGGED DICK SERIES," "TATTERED TOM SERIES," 
 " CAMPAIGN SERIES," " LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES," ETC. 
 
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 Other Volumes in Preparation. 
 
 COPYRIGHT BY A. K. LORING, 1872. \^- 
 
TO 
 
 in 1 IR, .A. nsr IK: .A-LG 
 
 THIS VOLUME 
 
 JS DEDICA TED 
 
 AFFECTIONATE BROTHER. 
 
 A* 
 
 M A / 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 AMONG the most interesting and picturesque classes of 
 street children in New York are the young Italian musicians, 
 who wander about our streets with harps, violins, or tambou 
 rines, playing wherever they can secure an audience. They 
 become Americanized less easily than children of other na 
 tionalities, and both in dress and outward appearance retain 
 their foreign look, while few, even after several years resi 
 dence, acquire even a passable knowledge of the English 
 language. 
 
 In undertaking, therefore, to describe this phase of street- 
 life, I found, at the outset, unusual difficulty on account of 
 my inadequate information. But I was fortunate enough to 
 make the acquaintance of two prominent Italian gentlemen, 
 long resident in New York, Mr. A. E. Cerqua, superintend 
 ent of the Italian School at the Five Points, and, through his 
 introduction, of Mr. G. F. Secchi de Casale, editor of the 
 well-known " Eco d Italia," from whom I obtained full and 
 trustworthy information. A series of articles contributed by 
 Mr. De Casale to his paper, on the Italian street children, in 
 
Vm PREFACE. 
 
 whom he has long felt a patriotic and sympathetic interest, I 
 have found of great service, and I freely acknowledge that, 
 but for the information thus acquired, I should have been 
 unable to write the present volume. 
 
 My readers will learn, with surprise, probably, of the hard 
 life led by these children, and the inhuman treatment which 
 they receive from the speculators who buy them from their 
 parents in Italy. It is not without reason that Mr. De Casale 
 speaks of them as the " White Slaves " of New York. I may 
 add, in passing, that they are quite distinct from the Italian 
 boot-blacks and newsboys who are to be found in Chatham 
 Street and the vicinity of the City Hall Park. These last are 
 the children of resident Italians of the poorer class, and are 
 much better off than the musicians. It is from their ranks 
 that the Italian school, before referred to, draws its pupils. 
 
 If the story of " Phil, the Eiddler," in revealing for the first 
 time to the American public the hardships and ill-treatment 
 of these wandering musicians, shall excite an active sympathy 
 in their behalf, the author will feel abundantly repaid for hii 
 labors. 
 
 NEW YORK, April 2, 18T4 
 
PHIL, THE FIDDLER; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PHIL, TUE FIDDLER. 
 
 * Viva Garibaldi I " sang a young Italian boy in 
 an uptown street, accompanying himself on a violin, 
 which, from its battered appearance, seemed to have 
 met with hard usage. 
 
 As the young singer is to be the hero of my story, 
 I will pause to describe him. lie was twelve years 
 old, but small of his age. His complexion was a 
 brilliant olive, with the dark eyes peculiar to his race, 
 and his hair black. In spite of the dirt, his face was 
 strikingly handsome, especially when lighted up by a 
 smile, as was often the case, for in spite of the hard 
 ships of his lot, and these were neither few noi 
 
 light, Filippo was naturally merry and light-hearted 
 
 9 
 
10 P/ZTL, >rnE FIDDLER; o/?, 
 
 He wore a velveteen jacket, and pantaloons which 
 atoned, by thoir extra length, for the boles resulting 
 from hard usage and antiquity. Ilia shoes, which 
 appeared to be wholly unacquainted with blacking, 
 were like his pantaloons, two or three sizes too large 
 for him, making it necessary for him to shuffle along 
 ungraceful^. 
 
 It was now ten o clock in the morning. Two hours 
 had elapsed since Filippo, or Phil, as I shall call him, 
 for the beneflt of my readers unfamiliar with Italian 
 names, had left the miserable home in Crosby Street 
 where he and forty other boys lived in charge of a 
 middle-aged Italian, known as the padrone. Of this 
 person, and the relations between him and the boys, 
 I shall hereafter speak. At present I propose to 
 accompany Phil. 
 
 Though he had wandered about, singing and play 
 ing, for two hours, Phil had not yet received a penny. 
 This made him somewhat uneasy, for he knew that at 
 night he must carry home a satisfactory sura to the 
 padrone, or he would be brutally beaten ; and poor 
 Phil knew from sad experience that his hard task 
 master had no mercy in such cases. 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUS1CIAX. 11 
 
 The block in which he stood was adjacent to Fifth 
 Avenue, and was lined on either side with brown-stone 
 houses. It was quiet, and but few passed through it 
 during the busy hours of the day. Cut Phil s hope 
 uras, that some money might be thrown him from a 
 window of some one of the fine houses before which 
 he was playing. But he seemed likely to be disap 
 pointed, for he played ten minutes without apparently 
 attracting any attention. He was about to change his 
 position, when the basement door of one of the houses 
 opened, and a servant came out, bareheaded, and ap 
 proached him. Phil regarded her with distrust, for ho 
 was often ordered away as a nuisance. He stopped 
 playing, and, hugging his violin closely, regarded her 
 watchfully. 
 
 " You re to come m, * said the girl abruptly. 
 
 " CJie cosa volete ?"* said Phil, suspiciously. 
 
 " I don t understand your Italian rubbish," said the 
 : girl. " You re to come into the house." 
 
 In general, boys of Phil s class are slow in learning 
 English. After months, and even years sometimes, 
 their knowledge is limited to a few words or phrases, 
 * What do you want ? 
 
12 pniL* THE FIDDLER; os, 
 
 On the other hand, they pick up French readily, and 
 as many of them, en route for America, spend some 
 weeks, or months, in the French metropolis, it is com 
 mon to find them able to speak the language some 
 what. Phil, however, was an exception, and coukl 
 manage to speak English a little, though not as well 
 as he could understand it. 
 
 " What for I go ? " he asked, a little distrustfully. 
 
 " My } T oung master wants to hear you play on 3 our 
 fiddle," said the servant. " He s sick, and can t 
 come out." 
 
 " All right ! " said Phil, using one of the first Eng 
 lish phrases he had caught. " I will go." 
 
 " Come along, then." 
 
 Phil followed his guide into the basement, thence 
 up two flights of stairs, and along a handsome hall 
 into a chamber. The little fiddler, who had never 
 
 before been invited into an elegant house, looked with 
 vt"" 
 
 admiration at the handsome furniture, and especially 
 
 at the pictures upon the wall, for, like most of his 
 nation, he had a love of whatever was beautiful, 
 whether in nature or art. 
 The chamber had two occupants, one a boy of 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 13 
 
 twelve years, was lying in a bed, propped up by 
 pillows. His thin, pale face, spoke of long sickness, 
 and contrasted vividly with the brilliant brown face 
 of the little Italian bo} T , who seemed the perfect 
 picture of health. Sitting beside the bed was a lady 
 of middle-age, and pleasant expression. It was easy 
 to see by the resemblance that she was the mother of 
 the sick boy. 
 
 Phil looked from one to the other, uncertain what 
 was required of him. 
 
 " Can } T OU speak English ? " asked Mrs. Leigh. 
 
 " Si, signora, a little," answered our hero. 
 
 " My son is sick, and would like to hear you play a 
 little." 
 
 " And sing too," added the sick boy, from the bed. 
 
 Phil struck up the song he had been singing in the 
 street, a song well known to all who have stopped to 
 listen to boys of his class, with the refrain, Viva 
 Garibaldi. His voice was clear and melodious, and, 
 in gpite of the poor quality of his instrument, he sang 
 with so much feeling that the effect was agreeable. 
 
 The sick boy listened with evident pleasure, for he, 
 too, had a taste for music. 
 
14 PHIL) THE FIDDLER; o/j, 
 
 " I wish I could understand Italian," he said. " 1 
 think it must be a good song." 
 
 "Perhaps he can sing some English song," sug 
 gested Mrs. Leigh. 
 
 " Can you sing in English?" she asked. 
 
 Phil hesitated a moment, and then broke into the 
 common street ditty, " Shoo fly, don t bodder me," 
 giving a quaint sound to the words by his Italian 
 accent. 
 
 "Do you know any more?" asked Henry Leigh, 
 when our hero had finished. 
 
 " Not English," said Phil, shaking his head. 
 
 " You ought to learn more." 
 
 " I can play more," said Phil, " but I know not, the 
 words." 
 
 " Then play some tunes." 
 
 Thereupon the little Italian struck up "Yankee 
 Doodle," which he played with spirit and evident 
 enjoyment. 
 
 "Do you know the name of that?" asked Henry 
 
 Phil shook his head. 
 
 " It is Yankee Doodle." 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 15 
 
 Phil tried to pronounce it, but the words in hia 
 mouth had a droll sound, and made them laugh. 
 
 " How old arc you? " asked Henry. 
 
 " Twelve years." 
 
 4 Then you are quite as old as I am." 
 
 u I wish you were as well and strong as he seems to 
 be," said Mrs. Leigh, sighing, as she looked at Henry s 
 pale face. 
 
 That was little likely to be. Always a delicate 
 child, Henry had a year previous contracted a cold, 
 which had attacked his lungs, and had gradually 
 increased until there seemed little doubt that in the 
 long struggle with disease nature must succumb, ana 
 an early death ensue. 
 
 " How long have you been in this country?" 
 
 " Un anno." 
 
 " How long is that?" 
 
 " A year," said Henry. " I know that, because 
 annus means a year in Latin." 
 
 44 Si, signore, a year," said Phil. 
 
 " And where do you come from?" 
 
 44 Da Napoli." 
 
 44 That means from Naples, I suppose." 
 
16 PIIIL, THE FIDDLER; o/?, 
 
 " Si, signore." 
 
 Most of the little Italian musicians to be found in 
 our streets are brought from Calabria, the southern 
 portion of Italy, where they are purchased from their 
 parents, for a fixed sum, or rate of annual payment. 
 But it is usual for them, when questioned, to say that 
 they come from Naples, that being the principal city 
 in that portion of Italy, or indeed in the entire king 
 dom. 
 
 "Who do you live with?" continued Henry. 
 "With the padrone." 
 " And who is the padrone ? " 
 " He take care of me, he bring me from Italy.** 
 "Is he kind to you?" 
 Phil shrugged his shoulders. 
 . " He beat me sometimes," he answered. 
 
 " Beats you? What for? " 
 " If I bring little money." 
 " Does he beat you hard ? * 
 " Si, signore, with a stick." 
 
 "Ho must be a bad man," said Henry, indignantly. 
 " How much money must you carry home? " 
 " Two dollar." 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 17 
 
 " But it isn t your fault, if people will not give you 
 money." 
 
 " Non importa He beat me." 
 
 " He ought to be beaten himself." 
 
 Phil shrugged his shoulders. Like most boys of 
 his class, to him the padrone seemed all-powerful. 
 The idea that his oppressive task-master could bo 
 punished for his cruelty had never dawned upon him. 
 Knowing nothing of any law that could protect him, 
 he submitted to it as a necessity, from which there 
 was no escape except by running away. He had not 
 come to that yet, but some of his companions had 
 done so, and he might some day. 
 
 After this conversation he played another tune. 
 Mrs. Leigh drew out her purse, and gave him fifty 
 cents. Phil took his fiddle under his arm, and, follow 
 ing the servant who reappeared, emerged into the 
 street, and moved onward. 
 
18 PHIL* THE FIDDLEA; 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 PHIL AND HIS PROTECTOR. 
 
 To a certain extent Phil was his own master; 
 that is, he was at liberty to wander where he liked, 
 provided he did not neglect his business, and re 
 turned to the lodging-house at night with the required 
 sum of money. But woe be to him if he were caught 
 holding back any of the money for his own use. In 
 that case, he would be beaten, and sent to bed with 
 out his supper, while the padrone, according to the 
 terms of his contract with the distant parent, would 
 withhold from the amount due the latter ten times 
 the sum kept by the boy. In the middle of the day 
 he was allowed to spend three cents for bread, which 
 was the only dinner allowed him. Of course the 
 boys were tempted to regale themselves more lux 
 uriously, but they incurred a great risk in doing so. 
 Sometimes the padrone followed them secretly, or 
 employed others to do so, and so was able to detect 
 
THE YOUNG STREET ATUS1CLAN. 19 
 
 them. Besides, they travelled, in general, by twos 
 and threes, and the system of espionage was en 
 couraged by the padrone. So mutual distrust wag 
 inspired, and the fear of being reported made the 
 boys honest. 
 
 Phil left the house of Mr. Leigh in good spirits. 
 Though he had earned nothing before, the fifty cents 
 he had just received made a good beginning, and in 
 spired in him the hope of getting together enough to 
 save him a beating. 
 
 He walked down towards Sixth Avenue, and turn 
 ing the comer walked down town. At length he 
 paused in front of a tobacconist s shop, and began 
 to play. But he had chosen an unfortunate time and 
 place. The tobacconist had just discovered a de 
 ficiency in his money account, which he suspected to 
 be occasioned by the dishonesty of his assistant. In 
 addition to this he had risen with a headache, so 
 that he was in a decidedly bad humor. Music had 
 no charms for him at that moment, and he no sooner 
 heard the first strains of Phil s violin than he rushed 
 from the shop bareheaded, and dashed impetuously at 
 the young field lor. 
 
20 p/7/z, THE FIDDLER; o/j, 
 
 "Get away from my shop, you little vagabond \ n 
 he cried. " If I had my way, you should all be sent 
 out of the country." 
 
 Phil was quick to take a hint. He saw the men- 
 ance in the shop-keeper s eyes, and, stopping abruptly, 
 ran further down the street, hugging his fiddle, which 
 he was afraid the angry tobacconist might seize and 
 break. This to him would be an irreparable mis 
 fortune, and subject him to a severe punishment, 
 though the fault would not be his. 
 
 Next he strolled into a side street, and began to 
 play in front of some dwelling-houses. Two or three 
 young children who had been playing in the street 
 gathered about him, and one of them gave him a 
 penny. Tlioy were clamorous for another tune, but 
 Phil could not afford to work for nothing, and, seeing 
 no pro3pect of additional pay, took his violin, and 
 walked away, much to the regret of his young audi 
 tors, who, though not rich, were appreciative. They 
 followed him to the end of the block, hoping that he 
 would play again, but the} 7 " were disappointed. 
 
 Phil played two or three times more, managing 
 to obtain in all twenty-five cents additional. He 
 
THE TOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 21 
 
 reached the corner of Thirteenth Street just as the 
 large public school, known as the Thirteenth Street 
 School, was dismissed for its noon intermission. 
 
 "Give us a tune, Johnny," cried Edward Eustis, 
 one of the oldest boys. 
 
 " Yes, a tune," joined in several others. 
 
 This was an invitation to which Phil was always 
 willing to respond. Besides, he knew from ex 
 perience that boys were more generous, in proportion 
 to their means, than those of larger growth, and he 
 hoped to get enough from the crowd around him to 
 increase his store to a dollar. 
 
 The boys gathered around the little minstrel, who 
 struck up an Italian tune, but without the words. 
 
 " Sing, sing ! " cried the boys. 
 
 Phil began to sing. His clear, fresh voice pro 
 duced a favorable impression upon the boys. 
 
 " He s a bully singer," said one. " I can t sing 
 much better myself." 
 
 " You sing ! Your singing would be enough to 
 scare a dozen tom-cats." 
 
 " Then we should be well matched. Look here, 
 Johnny, can t you sing something in English ? " 
 
22 pniL, THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 Phil, in response to this request, plaj-ed and sang 
 " Shoo Fly ! " which, suiting the boys taste, he was 
 called upon to repeat. 
 
 The song being finished, Edward Eustis took off 
 his cap, and went around the circle. 
 
 "Now, boj T s, you have a chance to show your 
 liberality," he said. " I ll start the collection with 
 five cents." 
 
 " That s ahead of me," said James Marcus. 
 " Justice to a large and expensive family will pre 
 vent my contributing more than two cents." 
 
 " Smallest favors thankfully received," said Ed 
 ward. 
 
 " Then take that, and be thankful," said Tom 
 Lane, dropping in a penny. 
 
 " I haven t got any money," said Frank Gay lord, 
 * but here s an apple ; " and he dropped a large red 
 apple into the cap. 
 
 Phil, watching with interest the various contribu 
 tions, was best pleased with the last. The money he 
 must carry to the padrone. The apple he might 
 keep for himself, and it would vary agreeably his 
 usual meagre fare. 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 23 
 
 u The biggest contribution yet," said Edward. 
 "Here, Sprague, you are liberal. What ll you 
 give?" 
 
 " My note at ninety days." 
 
 " You might fail before it comes due." 
 
 4 Then take three cents. Tis all I have ; 1 1 can 
 no more, though poor the offering be. " 
 
 "Oh, don t quote Shakspeare." 
 
 " It isn t Shakspeare ; it s Milton." 
 
 "Oust as much one as the other." 
 
 " Here, Johnny," said Edward, after going the 
 rounds " hold your hands, and I ll pour out the 
 money. You can retire from business now on a 
 fortune." 
 
 Phil was accustomed to be addressed as Johnny, 
 that being the generic name for boy in New York. 
 He deposited the money in his pocket, and, taking 
 his fiddle, played once more in acknowledgment of 
 the donation. The boys now dispersed, leaving Phil 
 to go on his way. Ho took out the apple with the 
 intention of eating it, when a rude boy snatched it 
 from his hand. 
 
 " Give it back," said Phil, angrily. 
 
24 P/TZZ, IHR FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 " Don t 3-ou wish you may get it?" said the other, 
 holding it out of his reach. 
 
 The young musician had little chance of redress. 
 His antagonist was a head taller than himself, and, 
 besides, he would not have dared to lay down hip 
 fiddle to fight, lest it might get broken. 
 
 " Give it to me," he said, stamping his foot. 
 
 " I mean to eat it myself," said the other, coolly. 
 , " It s too good for the likes of you." 
 
 " You re a thief." 
 
 " Don t you call me names, you little Italian rag 
 amuffin, or I ll hit you," said the other, menacingly. 
 
 " It is my apple." 
 
 " I m going to eat it." 
 
 But the speaker was mistaken. As he held the 
 apple above his head, it was suddenly snatched from 
 him. lie looked round angrily, and confronted 
 Edward Eustis, who, seeing Phil s trouble from a 
 little distance, had come to his rescue. 
 
 "What did you do that for?" demanded the 
 thief. 
 
 " What did you take the boy s apple for? " 
 
 " Because I felt like it." 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 25 
 
 " Then I took it from you for the same reason." 
 
 " Do you want to fight ? " blustered the rowdy. 
 
 44 Not particularly." 
 
 " Then hand me back that apple," returned the 
 other. 
 
 44 Thank you ; I shall only hand it to the rightful 
 owner, that little Italian boy. Are you not 
 ashamed to rob him?" 
 
 44 Do you want to get hit? " 
 
 4; I wouldn t advise you to do it." 
 
 The rowdy looked at the boy who confronted him. 
 Edward was slightly smaller, but there was a de 
 termined look in his eye which the bully, who, like 
 those of his class generally, was a coward at heart, 
 did not like. He mental]} 7 decided that it would be 
 safer not to provoke him. 
 
 4 Come here, Johnny, and take your apple," said 
 Edward. 
 
 Phil advanced, and received back his property 
 with satisfaction. 
 
 44 You d better eat it now. I ll see that he doesn t 
 disturb you." 
 
 Phil followed the advice of his new friend promptly. 
 
26 PHIL, THE FIDVLER; OR, 
 
 He bad eaten nothing since seven o clock, and then 
 only a piece of dry bread and cbeese, and tbe apple, 
 a rare luxury, be did not fuil to rclisb. His would- 
 be robber scowled at him meanwhile, for he had 
 promised himself the pleasure of despatching the 
 fruit. Edward stood by till the apple was eaten, and 
 then turned away. The rowdy made a movement 
 as if to follow Phil, but Edward quickly detected him, 
 anl came back. 
 
 "Don t you dare to touch him," he said signifi 
 cantly, " or you ll have to settle accounts with me. 
 Do you see that policeman? I am going to ask him 
 to have an eye on you. You d better look out for 
 yourself." 
 
 The other turned at the caution, and seeing the 
 approach of one of the Metropolitan police quickly 
 vanished. He had a wholesome fear of these 
 guardians of the public peace, and did not care to 
 court their attention. 
 
 Edward turned away, but in a moment felt a hand 
 tugging at his coat. Looking round, he saw that it 
 was Phil. 
 
 "Grazia, signore," said Phil, gratefully. 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 27 
 
 " I suppose that means Thank you ? " 
 Phil nodded. 
 
 " All right, Johnny ! I am glad I was by to save 
 you from that bully." 
 
28 pniL) THE FIDDLER; 
 
 CHAPTER 111. 
 
 GIACOMO. 
 
 AFTER eating the apple Phil decided to buy his 
 frugal dinner. lie, therefore, went into a baker s 
 shop, and bought two penny rolls and a piece of 
 cheese. It was not a very luxurious repast, but with 
 the apple it was better than usual. A few steps from 
 the shop-door he met another Italian boy, who WAS 
 bound to the same padrone. 
 
 "How much money have you, Giacomo?" asked 
 Phil, speaking of course in his native tongue. 
 
 " Forty cents. How much have you ? " 
 
 " A dollar and twenty cents." 
 
 * You are very lucky, Filippo." 
 
 " A rich signora gave me fifty cents for playing to 
 her sick boy. Then I sang for some school boys, and 
 they gave me some money." 
 
 " I am afraid the padrone will beat me to-night." 
 
 " He has not beat me for a week." 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 29 
 
 " Have you had dinner, Filippo? " 
 
 " Yes, I had some bread and cheese, and an apple." 
 
 " Did you buy the apple ? " 
 
 " No ; one of the school-boys gave it to me. It wag 
 very good," said Phil, in a tone of enjoyment. "I 
 had not eaten one for a long time." 
 
 " Nor I. Do you remember, Filippo, the oranges 
 we had in Italy ? " 
 
 " I remember them well." 
 
 " I was happy, then," said Giacomo, sighing. " There 
 was no padrone to beat me, and I could run about and 
 play. Now I have to sing and play all day. I am so 
 tired sometimes, Filippo." 
 
 " You are not so strong as I, Giacomo," and Phil 
 looked with some complacency at his own stout limbs. 
 
 " Don t you get tired, Filippo?" 
 
 " Yes, often ; but I don t care so much for that. 
 But I don t like the winter." 
 
 " I thought I should die with cold sometimes last 
 winter/ said Giacomo, shuddering. " Do you evei 
 expect to go back to Itaty, Filippo ? " 
 
 " Some time." 
 
30 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 "I wish I could go now. I should like to see iny 
 dear mother and my sisters." 
 
 "And your father?" 
 
 " I don t want to see him," said Giacomo, bitteily. 
 u He sold me to the padrone. My mother wept when I 
 went away, but my father only thought of the money." 
 
 Filippo and Giacomo were from the same town in 
 Calabria. They were the sons of Italian peasants who 
 had been unable to resist the offers of the padrone, 
 and for less than a hundred dollars each had sold his 
 son into the crudest slavery. The boys were torn 
 from their native hills, from their families, and in a 
 foreign land were doomed to walk the streets from 
 fourteen to sixteen hours in every twenty-four, gather 
 ing money Trom which they received small benefit. 
 Many *imes, as they trudged through the streets, 
 weary and hungry, sometimes cold, they thought with 
 homesick sadness of the sunny fields in which their 
 earliest years had been passed, but the hard realities 
 of the life they were now leading soon demanded 
 their attention. 
 
 Naturally light-hearted, Filippo, or Phil, bore his 
 
THE JOUNQ STREET MUSICIAN. 31 
 
 haixJ lot more cheerfully than some of his comrades. 
 But Giacomo was more delicate, and less able to bear 
 want and fatigue. His livelier comrade cheered him 
 up, and Giacomo always felt better after talking with 
 Phil. 
 
 As the two boys were walking together, a heavy 
 hand was laid on the shoulder of each, and a harsh 
 voice said : - 
 
 "Is this the way you. waste your time, little 
 rascals ? " 
 
 Both boys started, and, looking up, recognized the 
 padrone. He was a short man, very dark, with fierce 
 black eyes, and a sinister countenance. It was his 
 habit to walk about the streets from time to time, and 
 keep a watch unobserved, upon his young apprentices, 
 if they may be so called. If he found them loitering 
 about, or neglecting their work, they were likely to 
 receive a sharp reminder. 
 
 The boys were both startled at his sudden appear 
 ance, but, after the first start, Phil, who was naturally 
 courageous, recovered his self-possession. Not so 
 Mith Giacomo, who was the more afraid because he 
 knew he had gained but little money thus far. 
 
52 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; ox, 
 
 " We are not wasting our time, padrone," said Phil, 
 looking up fearlessly. 
 
 " We will see about that. How long have you been 
 together?" 
 
 " Only five minutes." 
 
 "How much money have you, Filippo?" 
 
 " A dollar and twenty cents." 
 
 " Good ; you have done well. And how is it with 
 you, Giacomo?" 
 
 " 1 have forty cents." 
 
 " Then you have been idle," said the padrone, 
 frowning. 
 
 "No, signore," said the boy, trembling. "I have 
 played, but they did not give me much money." 
 
 " It is not his fault," said Phil, coming boldly to 
 the defence of his friend. 
 
 " Attend to your own affairs, little scapegrace," 
 said the padrone, roughly. " He might rave got aa 
 much as you." 
 
 11 No, padrone ; I was lucky. A kind lady gave me 
 fifty cents." 
 
 * That is not my affair. I don t care where you get 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 33 
 
 the money. But if you don t bring home all I expect, 
 you shall feel the stick." 
 
 These last words were addressed to Giacomo, who 
 understood their import only too well. In the 
 miserable lodging where he herded with thirty or forty 
 others scarcely a night passed without the brutal pun 
 ishment of one or more unfortunate boys, who had 
 been unsuccessful in bringing home enough to satisfy 
 the rapacity of the padrone. But of this an account 
 will hereafter be given. 
 
 " Now, go to work, both of you," said the padrone, 
 harshly. 
 
 The two boys separated. Giacomo went uptown, 
 while Phil kept on his way towards the Astor House. 
 The padrone made his way to the nearest liquor shop, 
 where he invested a portion of the money wrung from 
 the hard earnings of his 3 r oung apprentices. 
 
 Towards the close of the afternoon Phil found him 
 self in front of the Astor House. He had played 
 several times, but he was not fortunate in finding lib 
 eral auditors. He had secured but ten cents during this 
 time, and it seemed doubtful whether he would reach 
 the sum he wanted. He crossed over to the City Hall 
 
34 pmL) THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 Park, and, feeling tired, sat down on one of the 
 benches. Two boot-blacks were already seated upon 
 it. 
 
 " Play us a tune, Johnny," said one. 
 
 "Will you give me pennies?" asked Phil, doubt 
 fully, for he did not care, with such a severe task 
 master, to work for nothing. 
 
 " Yes, we ll give you pennies." 
 
 Upon this Phil struck up a tune. 
 
 u Where s your monkey ? " asked one of the boys. 
 
 " I have no monkey." 
 
 " If you want a monkey, here s one for you," said 
 Tim Rafferty, putting his hand on his companion s 
 shoulder. 
 
 " He s too big," said Phil, laughing. 
 
 u Hould yer gab, Tim Rafferty," said the other. 
 " It s you that ll make a better monkey nor I. Say, 
 Johnny, do you pay your monkeys well?" 
 
 " Give me my pennies," said Phil, with an eye to 
 business. 
 
 " Play another tune, then." 
 
 Phil obeyed directions. When he had finished, a 
 contribution was taken up, but it only amounted to 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 35 
 
 seven cents. However, considering the character of 
 the audience, this was as much as could be ex 
 pected. 
 
 u How much have } T OU made to-day, Johnny?" 
 asked Tim. 
 
 " A dollar," said Phil. 
 
 " A dollar ! That s more nor I have made. I tell 
 you what, boys, I think I ll buy a fiddle myself. I ll 
 make more money that way than blackin boots." 
 
 " A great fiddler you d make, Tim Rafferty." 
 
 " Can t I play then? Lend me your fiddle, Johnny, 
 till I try it a little." 
 
 Phil shook his head. 
 
 " Give it to me now ; I won t be hurtin it." 
 
 u You ll break it." 
 
 " Then I ll pay for it." 
 
 " It isn t mine." 
 
 "Whose is it, then?" 
 
 " The padrone s." 
 
 " And who s the padrone? " 
 
 " The man I live with. If the fiddle is broken, he 
 will beat me." 
 
 Then he s an ould haythen, and you may tell him 
 
36 pniL) THE FIDDLER; OTJ, 
 
 BO, wid Tim Rafferty s compliments. But I won t 
 hurt it." 
 
 Phil, however, feared to trust the violin in unskil 
 ful hands. He knew the penalty if any harm befell it, 
 and he had no mind to run the risk. So he rose from 
 the seat, and withdrew to a little distance, Tim Rafferty 
 following, for, though he cared little at first, he now 
 felt determined to try the fiddle. 
 
 " If 3^ou don t give it to me I ll put a head on you," 
 he said. 
 
 " You shall not have it," said Phil, firmly, for he, 
 too, could be determined. _ 
 
 " The little chap s showin fight," said Tim s com 
 panion. u Look out, Tim ; he ll mash you." 
 
 " I can fight him wid one hand," said Tim. 
 
 He advanced upon our young hero, who, being much 
 smaller, would probably have been compelled to yield 
 to superior force but for an interference entirely unex 
 pected by Tim. 
 
TO.E YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 37 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PHIL RECEIVES AN INVITATION TO SUPPER. 
 
 TIM bad raised his fist to strike the young fiddlei, 
 when he was suddenly pushed aside with consider 
 able force, and came near measuring his length on 
 the ground. 
 
 " Who did that?" he cried angrily, recovering hia 
 equilibrium. 
 
 " I did it," said a calm voice. 
 
 Tim recognized in the speaker Paul Hoffman, 
 whom some of my readers will remember as " Paul, 
 the Peddler." Paul was proprietor of a neck-tie 
 stand below the Astor House, and was just returning 
 home to supper. He was a brave and manly boy, 
 and his sympathies were always in favor of the op 
 pressed. He had met Phil before, and talked with 
 him, and seeing him in danger came to his assist 
 ance. 
 
38 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 "What made you push me?" demanded Tim, 
 fiercely. 
 
 "What were you going to do to him?" rejoined 
 Paul, indicating the Italian boy. 
 
 " I was only goin to borrer his fiddle." 
 
 " lie would have broken it," said Phil. 
 
 " You don t know how to play," said Paul. " You 
 would have broken his fiddle, and then he would be 
 beaten." 
 
 " I would pay for it if I did," said Tim. 
 
 "You say so, but you wouldn t. Even if you 
 did, it would take time, and the boy would have 
 suffered." 
 
 " What business is it of yours?" demanded Tim, 
 angrily. 
 
 "It is always my business when I see a big boy 
 teasing a little one." 
 
 " You ll get hurt some day," said Tim, suddenly. 
 
 " Not by you," returned Paul, not particularly 
 alarmed. 
 
 Tim would gladly have punished Paul on the spot 
 for his interference, but he did not consider it prudent 
 to provoke hostilities. Paul was as tall as himself. 
 
THE YOU NO STREET MUSICIAN. 39 
 
 and considerably stronger. He therefore confined 
 himself to threatening words. 
 
 " Come along with me, Phil," said Paul kindly to 
 the little fiddler. 
 
 " Thank you for saving me," said Phil, gratefully. 
 " The padrone would beat me if the fiddle was 
 broke." 
 
 " Never mind about thanks, Phil. Tim is a bully 
 with small boys, but he is a coward among large 
 ones. Have you had any supper?" 
 
 " No," said Phil. 
 
 " Won t you come home and take supper with 
 me?" 
 
 Phil hesitated. 
 
 " You are kind," he said, " but I fear the pa 
 drone." 
 
 " What will he do to you ? " 
 
 " He will beat me if I don t bring home enough 
 money/ 
 
 " How mncL more must you get ? " 
 
 " Sixty cents." 
 
 " You can play better after a good supper. Come 
 along ; I won t keep } r ou long." 
 
40 p/z/z, THE FIDDLER; OTJ, 
 
 Phil made no more objection. lie was a healthy 
 boy, and his wanderings had given him a good 
 appetite. So he thanked Paul, and walked along by 
 his side. One object Paul had in inviting him was, 
 the fear that Tim Rafferty might take advantage of 
 his absence to renew his assault upon Phil, and with 
 better success than before. 
 
 " How old are you, Phil? " he asked. 
 
 " Twelve years." 
 
 " And who taught you to play? " 
 
 " No one ; I heard the other boys play, and so I 
 learned." 
 
 "Do you like it?" 
 
 " Sometimes ; but I get tired of it." 
 
 " I don t wonder. I should think playing day 
 after day might tire you. "What are you going to do 
 when you become a man ? " 
 
 Phil shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " I don t know," he said. " I think I ll go back to 
 Italy." 
 
 " Have you any relations there?" 
 
 " I have a mother and two sisters." 
 
 "And a father? 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 41 
 
 " Yes, a father." 
 
 " Why did they let you come away ? " 
 
 " The padrone gave my father money." 
 
 " Don t you ever hear anything from home ? " 
 
 " No, signorc." 
 
 Li 
 
 " I am not a signore," said Paul, smiling. " You 
 may call me Paul. Is that an Italian name ? " 
 
 Me call it Paolo." 
 
 " That sounds queer to me. What s James in 
 Italian?" 
 
 " Giacomo." 
 
 " Then I have a little brother Giacomo." 
 
 "How old is he?" 
 
 " Eight years old." 
 
 " My sister Bettina is eight years. I wish I could 
 see her." 
 
 " You will see her again some day, Phil. You 
 will get rich in America, and go back to Italy." 
 
 " The padrone takes all my money." 
 
 " You ll get away from the old rascal some day. 
 Keep up good courage, Phil, and all will come right. 
 But here we are. Follow me upstairs, and I will 
 introduce you to my mother and Giacomo," said 
 
42 p/r/z, THE FinntKit; o/?, 
 
 Paul, laugmng at the Italian name lie bad given to 
 his little brother. 
 
 Mrs. Hoffman and Jimmy looked witb some sur 
 prise at tbe little fiddler, as be entered with Paul. 
 
 " Mother," said Paul, " this is one of my friends, 
 whom I have invited to take supper with us." 
 
 "He is welcome," said Mrs. Hoffman, kindly. 
 " Have you ever spoken to us of him?" 
 
 "I am not sure. His name is Phil Phil, the 
 fiddler, we call him." 
 
 " Philip, I suppose." 
 
 " Filippo," said the young musician. 
 
 " We will call you Phil ; it is easier to speak," 
 said Paul. " This is my little brother Jimmy. He 
 is a great artist." 
 
 " Now you are laughing at me, Paul," said the 
 little boy. 
 
 " Well, he is going to be a great artist some time, 
 if he isn t one yet. Do you think, Jimmy, you could 
 draw Phil here with his fiddle?" 
 
 " I think I could," said the little bey, slowly, 
 looking carefully at their young guest; "but it 
 would take some time.* 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 43 
 
 ** Perhaps Phil will come some day, and give you a 
 Hitting." 
 
 " Will you come? " asked Jimmy 
 u I will come some day." 
 
 Meanwhile Mrs. Hoffman was preparing supper. 
 
 kti 
 Since Paul had become proprietor of the neck-tie/ 
 
 stand, as described in the last volume, they were able 
 to live with less regard to economy than before. So, 
 when the table was spread, it presented quite a 
 tempting appearance. Beefsteak, rolls, fried pota 
 toes, coffee, and preserves graced the board. 
 
 " Supper is ready, Paul," said his mother, when all 
 was finished. 
 
 "Here, Phil, you may sit here, at my right hand," 
 said Paul. " I will put your violin where it will not 
 be injured." 
 
 Phil sat down as directed, not without feeling a 
 little awkward, yet with a sense of anticipated 
 pleasure. Accustomed to bread and cheese alone, 
 the modest repast before him seemed like a royal 
 feast, The meat especially attracted him, for he had 
 not tasted any for months, indeed seldom in Uis life, 
 
44 P/ZTZ, THE FIDDLER; oit t 
 
 for in Italy it is seldom eaten by the class to which 
 Phil s parents belonged. 
 
 44 Let me give you some meat, Phil," said Paul. 
 * Now shall we drink the health of the padrone in 
 coffee?" 
 
 44 1 will not drink his health," said Phil. " lie is a 
 bad man." 
 
 4 Who is the padrone?" asked Jimmy, curiously. 
 
 44 He is my master. He sends me out to play for 
 money." 
 
 44 And must you give the money to him?" 
 
 44 Yes ; if I do not bring much money he will beat 
 me." 
 
 44 Then he must be a bad man. Why do you live 
 with him?" 
 
 44 He bought me from my father." 
 
 44 He bought you?" repeated Jimmy, puzzled. 
 
 44 He hires him for so much money," explained 
 Paul. 
 
 44 But why did your father let you go with a bad 
 man ? " asked Jimmy. 
 
 44 He wanted the money," said Phil. 44 He cared 
 more for money than for me." 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 45 
 
 What wonder that the boys sold into such cruel 
 slavery should be estranged from the fathers who foi 
 a few paltry ducats sell the liberty and happiness of 
 their children ! Even where the contract is for a lim 
 ited term of years, the boys in five cases out of ten 
 are not returned at the appointed time. A part, 
 unable to bear the hardships and privations of the 
 life upon which they enter, are swept off by death, 
 while of those that survive, a part are weaned from 
 their homes, or are not permitted to go back. 
 
 " You must not ask too many questions, Jimmy," 
 said Mrs. Hoffman, fearing that he might awaken sad 
 thoughts in the little musician. 
 
 She was glad to see that Phil ate with a good 
 appetite. In truth he relished the supper, which was 
 the best he remembered to have tasted for many a 
 long day. 
 
 "Is Italy like America?" asked Jimmy, whose 
 curiosity was excited to learn something of PhiFs 
 birthplace. 
 
 44 It is much nicer," said Phil, with natural love of 
 country. " There are olive-trees and orange-trees, 
 and grapes very many." 
 
46 PHIL. THE FIDDLER; ox, 
 
 "Are there really orange-trees? Have jod 
 them grow ? " 
 
 44 1 have picked them from the trees many times." 
 
 " I should like that, but I don t care for olives." 
 
 " They are good too." 
 
 11 1 should like the grapes." 
 
 " There are other things in Italy, which you would 
 like better, Jimmy," said Paul. 
 
 " What do you mean, Paul ? " 
 
 " The galleries of fine paintings." 
 
 " Yes, I should like to see them. Have }^ou seen 
 them?" 
 
 Phil shook his head. The picture-galleries are in 
 the c-ities, and not in the country district where he 
 was born. 
 
 " Some time, when I am rich, we will all go to 
 Italy, Jimmy ; then, if Phil is at home, we will go 
 and see him." 
 
 " I should like that, Paul." 
 
 Though Jimmy was not yet eight years old, he had 
 already exhibited a remarkable taste for drawing, 
 and without having received any instruction could 
 copy any ordinary picture with great exactness. It 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN 47 
 
 was the little bc^ s ambition to become an artist, and 
 in this ambition he was encouraged by Paul, who 
 intended, as soon as he could afford it, to engage an 
 instructor for Jimmy. 
 
PHIL* THE FIDDLER; 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ON THE BROOKLYN FERRY-BOAT. 
 
 WHEN supper was over, Phil bethought himself 
 that his day s work was not yet over. He had still a 
 considerable sum to obtain before he dared go home, 
 if such a name can be given to the miserable tenement 
 in Crosby Street, where he herded with companions. 
 But before going he wished to show his gratitude to 
 Paul for his protection and the supper which he had 
 so much enjoyed. 
 
 44 Shall I play for you?" he asked, taking his violin 
 from the top of the bureau, where Paul had placed it. 
 
 "Will you?" asked Jimmy, his eyes lighting up 
 with pleasure. 
 
 ""We should be very glad to hear you," said Mrs 
 Hoffman. 
 
 Phil played his best, for he felt that he was play 
 ing for friends. After a short prelude, he struck into an 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 49 
 
 Italian song. Though the words were unintelligible, 
 the little party enjoyed the song. 
 
 " Bravo, Phil ! " said Paul. " You sing almost as 
 well as I do." 
 
 Jimmy laughed. 
 
 " You sing about as well as you. draw," said the 
 little boy. 
 
 " There you go again with your envy and jealousy/ 
 said Paul, in an injured tone. " Others appreciate me 
 better." 
 
 44 Sing something, and we will judge of your merits," 
 said his mother. 
 
 "Not now," said Paul, shaking his head. u My 
 feelings are too deeply injured. But if he has time, 
 Phil will perhaps favor us with another song." 
 
 So the little fiddler once more touched the strings 
 of his violin, and sang the hymn of Garibaldi. 
 
 " lie has a beautiful voice," said Mrs. Hoffman to 
 Paul. 
 
 4 Yes ; Phil sings much better than most of his 
 class. Shall I bring him up here again ? " 
 
 44 Any time, Paul. We shall always be glad to see 
 him." 
 
50 PHIL, THE FIDDLE It; OK, 
 
 Here Phil took his cap and prepared to depart. 
 
 "Good-by," he said in English. "I thank you all 
 for your kindness." 
 
 " Will you come again?" said Mrs. Hoffman. " We 
 shall be glad to have you." 
 
 44 Do come," pleaded Jimmy, who had taken a 
 fancy to the dark-eyed Italian boy, whose brilliant 
 brown complexion contrasted strongly with his own 
 pale face and blue eyes. 
 
 These words gave Phil a strange pleasure. Since 
 his arrival in America he had become accustomed to 
 harsh words and blows ; but words of kindness were 
 strangers to his ears. For an hour he forgot the street 
 and his uninviting home, and felt himself surrounded 
 by a true home atmosphere. He almost fancied him 
 self in his Calabrian home, with his mother and sisters 
 about him, in his home as it was before cupidity 
 entered his father s heart and impelled him to sell his 
 own flesh and blood into slavery in a foreign land. 
 Phil could not analyze his own emotions, but these 
 were the feelings which rose in his heart, and filled it 
 with transient sadness. 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 51 
 
 U I thank you much," he said. "I will come 
 again some day." 
 
 44 Come soon, Phil," said Paul. " You know where 
 my neck-tie stand is. Come there any afternoon be 
 tween four and five, and I will take you home to sup 
 per. Do you know the way out, or shall I go with 
 you?" 
 
 " I know the way," said Phil. 
 
 He went downstairs, and once more found himself 
 on the sidewalk. 
 
 It was but six o clock, and five or six hours were 
 still before him, before he could feel at liberty to go 
 home. Should he return too earl} , he would be pun 
 ished for losing the possible gains of the hour he had 
 lost, even if the sum he brought home were otherwise 
 satisfactory. So, whatever may be his fatigue, or 
 however inclement the weather, the poor Italian boy 
 is compelled to stay out till near midnight, before he 
 is permitted to return to the hard pallet on which 
 only he can sleep off his fatigues. 
 
 A gain in the street, Phil felt that he must make up 
 for lost time. Now six o clock is not a very favora 
 ble time for street music ; citizens who do business 
 
52 PHIL) THE FIDDLER; O.R, 
 
 down town have mostly gone home to dinner. 
 Those who have not started are in haste, and little 
 disposed to heed the appeal of the young minstrel. 
 Later the saloons will be well frcquer ted, and not 
 seldom the } T onng fiddler may pick up a few, some 
 times a considerable number of pennies, by playing 
 at the doors of these places, or within, if they should 
 be invited to enter ; but at six there is not much to 
 be done. 
 
 After a little reflection, Phil determined to go down 
 to Fulton Ferry, and get on board the Brooklyn 
 steamboat. He might get a chance to play to the 
 passengers, and some, no doubt, would give him some 
 thing. At any rate, the investment would be small, 
 since for one fare, or two cents, he might ride back 
 and forwards several times, as long as he did not 
 step off the boat. He, therefore, directed his steps 
 towards the ferry, and arrived just in time to go on 
 board the boat. 
 
 The boat was very full. So large a number of the 
 people in Brooklyn are drawn to New York ivy busi 
 ness and pleasure, that the boats, particularly in the 
 morning from seven to nine, and in the afternoon 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 53 
 
 from five to seven, go loaded down with foot-passen 
 gers and carriages. 
 
 Phil entered the ladies cabin. Though ostensibly 
 confined to ladies use, it was largely occupied also 
 by gentlemen who did not enjoy the smoke which 
 usually affects disagreeably the atmosphere of the 
 cabin appropriated to their own sex. Our j oung 
 musician knew that to children the hearts and purses 
 of ladies are more likely to open, than those of gen 
 tlemen, and this guided him. 
 
 Entering, he found every seat taken. He waited 
 till the boat had started, and then taking his position 
 in the centre of the rear cabin he began to play and 
 sing, fixing at once the attention of the passengers 
 upon himself. 
 
 " That boy s a nuisance ; he ought not to be 
 allowed to play on the boat," muttered an old gentle 
 man, looking up from the columns of the " Evening 
 Post." 
 
 " Now, papa," said a young lady at his side, " why 
 need you object to the poor boy? I am sure he sings 
 very nicely. I like to hear him." 
 
 " I don t." 
 
64 pniLj THE FIDDLER; on, 
 
 " You know, papa, you have no taste for music. 
 You went to sleep at the opera the other evening." 
 
 " I tried to/* said her father, in whom musical 
 taste ha-I a very limited development. " It was all 
 nonsense to me." 
 
 " lie is singing the Hymn of Garibaldi. What a 
 sweet voice he has ! Such a handsome little fellow 
 too ! " 
 
 "He has a dirty face, and his clothes are ragged." 
 
 " But he has beautiful eyes ; see how brilliant they 
 are. No wonder he is dirty and ragged ; it isn t 
 his fault, poor boy. I have no doubt he has a mis 
 erable home. I am going to give him something." 
 
 " Just as you like, Florence ; as I am not a roman 
 tic young damsel, I shall not follow your example." 
 
 By this time the song was finished, and Phil, tak 
 ing off his cap, went the rounds. None of the con 
 tributions were larger than five cents, until he came 
 to the 3 oung lady of whom we have spoken above. 
 She drew a twenty-five-cent note from her porte- 
 monnaie, and put it into Phil s hand, with a gracious 
 smile, which pleased the young fiddler as much as the 
 gift. 
 
THE YOU NO STREET MUSICIAN. 55 
 
 " Thank you, lady," he said. 
 
 " You sing very nicely," she replied. 
 
 Phil smiled, and dirty though his face was, the 
 smile lighted it up with rare beauty. 
 
 "Do you often come on these boats?" asked the 
 young lad} r . 
 
 " Sometimes, but they do not always let me play," 
 said Phil. 
 
 " I hope I shall hear you again. You have a good 
 voice." 
 
 " Thank you, signorina." 
 
 " You can speak English. I tried to spaak with 
 one of you the other da} r , but he could only speak 
 Italian." 
 
 " I know a few words, signorina." 
 
 "I hope I shall see you again," and the young 
 lady, prompted by a natural impulse of kindness, 
 held out her hand to the little musician. He took it 
 respectfully, and bending over touched it with his lips. 
 
 The young lacty, to whom this was quite unex 
 pected, smiled and blushed, by no means offended, 
 but she glanced round her to see whether it was 
 observed by others. 
 
5 A PHIL, THE FIDDLE n; O/?, 
 
 " Upon my word, Florence," said her father, as 
 Phil moved away, " you have got up quite a scene 
 with this little ragged musician. I am rather glad he 
 is not ten or twelve years older, or there might be 
 a i-omantic elopement." 
 
 " Now, papa, you are too bad," said Florence. 
 " Just because I choose to be kind to a poor, neg 
 lected child, you fancy all sorts of improbable 
 things." 
 
 "I don t know where 3 ou get all } T our foolish 
 romance from, not from me, I am sure." 
 
 "I should think not," said Florence, laughing mer 
 rily. u Your worst enemy won t charge you with 
 being romantic, papa." 
 
 " I hope not," said her father, shrugging his shoul 
 ders. " But the boat has touched the pier. Shall 
 we go on shore, or have you any further business 
 with your young Italian friend?" 
 
 "Not to-da} 7 , papa." 
 
 The passengers vacated the boat, and were replaced 
 by a smaller number, on their way from Brooklyn to 
 New York. 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 57 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE BAR-ROOM. 
 
 PHIL did not leave the boat He lingered in the 
 cabin until the passengers were seated, and after the 
 boat was again under way began to play. This time, 
 however, he was not as fortunate as before. While 
 in the midst of a tune one of the men employed on 
 the boat entered the cabin. At times he would not 
 have interfered with him, but he happened to be in 
 an ill-humor, and this proved unfortunate for Phil. 
 
 " Stop your ncise, boy," he said. 
 
 Phil looked up. 
 
 "May I not play?" 
 
 " No ; nobody wants to hear you." 
 
 The young fiddler did not dare to disobey. He 
 saw tnat for the present his gains were at an end 
 However, he had enough to satisfy the rapacity of 
 the padrone, and could afford to stop. He took a 
 seat, and waited quietly till the boat landed. One 
 
58 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; o/?, 
 
 of the lady passengers, as she passed him on her way 
 out of the cabin, placed ten cents in his hand. This 
 led him to count tip his gains. He found they 
 amounted to two dollars and fifty cents. 
 
 " I need not play any more," he thought. u I 
 shall not be beaten to-night." 
 
 He found his seat so comfortable, especially after 
 wandering about the streets all da} , that he remained 
 in the boat for two more trips. Then, taking his 
 violin under his arm, he went out on the pier. 
 
 It was half-past seven o clock. He would like to 
 have gone to his lodging, but knew that it would not 
 be permitted. In this respect the Italian fiddler is 
 not as well off as those who ply other street trades. 
 Newsboj s and boot-blacks are their own masters, 
 and, whether their earnings are little or great, reap 
 the benefit of them themselves. They can stop work 
 at six if they like, or earlier ; but the little Italian 
 musician must remain in the street till near midnight, 
 and then, after a long and fatiguing day, he is liable 
 to be beaten and sent to bed without his supper, 
 unless he brings home a satisfactory sum of money. 
 
 Phil walked about here and there in 1 he lower part 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 59 
 
 of the city. As he was passing a bar-room he was 
 called in by the bar-keeper. 
 
 " Give us a tune, boy," he said. 
 
 It was a low bar-room, frequented by sailors, and a 
 rough set of customers, of similar character. The 
 red face of the bar-keeper showed that he liberally 
 patronized the liquors which he sold. The floor was 
 sanded, and the atmosphere was filled with the fumes 
 of bad cigars and bad liquor. The men were ready 
 for a good time, as they called it, and it was at the 
 suggestion of one of them that Phil had been invited 
 in. 
 
 " Play a tune on your fiddle, you little raga 
 muffin," said one. 
 
 Phil cared little how he was addressed. He was at 
 the service of the public, and what he chiefly cared 
 for was to be paid for his services. 
 
 " What shall I play? " he asked. 
 
 " Anything," hiccoughed one. " It s all the same 
 "X) me. I don t know one tune from another." 
 
 The 3 r oung fiddler played one of the popular airs 
 of the day. He did not undertake to sing, for the 
 atmosphere was so bad that he could hardly avoid 
 
60 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; on, 
 
 coughing. He was anxious to get out into the street, 
 but he did not wish to refuse playing. When he had 
 finished his tune, one of those present, a sailor cried, 
 " That s good. Step up, bo} s, and have a drink." 
 
 The invitation was readil} r accepted by all except 
 Phil. Noticing that the boy kept his place, the 
 sailor said, " Step up, boy, and wet 3-0111* whistle." 
 
 Phil liked the weak wines of his native land, but. 
 he did not care for the poisonous decoctions to be 
 found in such places. 
 
 " I am not thirst} ," he said. 
 
 " Yes, you are ; here, give this boy a glass of 
 brandy." 
 
 " I do not want it," said Phil. 
 
 " You won t drink with us," exclaimed the sailor, 
 who had taken enough to be quarrelsome. " Then 
 I ll make you ; " and he brought down his fist so 
 heavily upon the counter as to make the glasses 
 rattle. "Then I ll make you. Hero, give me a 
 glass, and I ll pour it down his throat." 
 
 The little fiddler was frightened at his vehemence, 
 and darted to the door. But the sailor was too quick 
 for him. Overtaking Phil, he dragged him back with 
 
THE YOUXG STREET MUSICIAN. 61 
 
 a rough grasp, and held out his hand for the glass 
 But an unexpected friend turned up. 
 
 "Oh, let the boy go, Jack," said a fcllow-sailoi 
 " If lie don t want to drink, don t force him." 
 
 But his persecutor was made ugly by his potations, 
 and swore that Phil should drink before he left the 
 bar-room. 
 
 44 That he shall not," said his new friend. 
 
 ""Who is to prevent it?" demanded Jack, fiercely. 
 
 "IwJ.ll." 
 
 " Then I ll pour a glass down your throat, too," 
 returned Jack, menacingly. 
 
 " No need of that. I am ready enough to drink 
 But the boy shan t drink, if he don t want to." 
 
 " lie shall ! " retorted the first sailor with an oath. 
 
 Still holding Phil by the shoulder with one hand, 
 with the other he took a glass which had just been 
 filled with brandy ; he was about to pour it clown his 
 Ihroat, when the glass was suddenly dashed from his 
 hand and broke upon the floor. 
 
 With a fresh oath Jack released his hold of Phil, 
 and, maddened with rage, threw himself upon the 
 other. Instantly there was a general melee PM1 
 
62 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; OTJ, 
 
 did not wait to see the result. He ran to the door, 
 and, emerging into the street, ran away till he had 
 placed a considerable distance between himself and 
 the disorderly and drunken party in the bar-room. 
 The fight there continued until the police, attracted 
 by the noise, forced an entrance and carried away the 
 whole party to the station-house, where they had a 
 chance to sleep off their potations. 
 
 Freed from the immediate danger, the } oung fid 
 dler kept on his way. He had witnessed such scenes 
 before, as he had often been into bar-rooms to play 
 in the evening. He had not been paid for his 
 trouble, but he cared little for that, as the money 
 would have done him no good. He would only have 
 been compelled to pass it over to the padrone. 
 
 These boys, even at a tender age, are necessarily 
 made familiar with the darker side of metropolitan 
 life. Vice and crime are displayed before their 
 young eyes, and if they do not themselves become 
 vicious, it is not for the want of knowledge anj 
 example. 
 
 It would be tedious to follow Phil in his wander 
 ings. We have already had a glimpse of t\Q manner 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 63 
 
 m which the days passed with him ; only it is to be 
 said that this was a favorable specimen. He had 
 been more fortunate in collecting money than usual. 
 Besides, he had had a better dinner than usual, 
 thanks to the apple, and a supper such as he had not 
 tasted for months. 
 
 About ten o clock, as he was walking on the Bow 
 ery, he met Giacomo, his companion of the morning. 
 
 The little boy was dragging one foot after the 
 other wearily. There was a sad look on his young 
 face, for he had not been successful, and he knew too 
 well how he would be received by the padrone. Yet 
 his face lighted up as he saw Phil. Often before 
 Phil had encouraged him when he was despondent. 
 He looked upon our young hero as his only friend ; 
 for there was no other of the boys who seemed to 
 care for him or be able to help him. 
 
 " Is it you, Filippo? " he said. 
 
 " Yes, Giacomo. What luck have you. had ? " 
 
 u Not much. I have only a little more than a 
 dollar. 1 am so tired ; but I don t dare to go back. 
 The padrone will beat me." 
 
 An idea came to Phil. lie did not know how 
 
64 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; oiz, 
 
 much money he had ; but he was sure it must be 
 considerably more than two dollars. Why should he 
 not give some to his friend to make up his deficien 
 cies, and so perhaps save him from punishment? 
 
 " I have had better luck," he said. " I have almost 
 three dollars." 
 
 " You are always luckier than I, Filippo." 
 
 " I am stronger, Giacomo. It does not tire me so 
 much to walk about." 
 
 " You can sing too. I cannot sing very much, and 
 I do not get so much money." 
 
 t( Tell me just how much money you have, 
 Giacomo." 
 
 " I have a dollar and thirty cents," said Giacomo, 
 after counting the contents of his pockets. 
 
 Meanwhile Phil had been doing the same thing. 
 The result of his count was, that he found he had two 
 dollars and eighty cents. 
 
 "Listen, Giacomo," he said. " I will give you 
 enough to make two dollars." 
 
 " But then you will be beaten." 
 
 " No ; I shall have two dollars and five cents left. 
 Then neither of us will get beaten." 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 65 
 
 " How kind you arc, Filippo ! " 
 
 " Oh, it is nothing. Besides, I do not want to carry 
 too much, or the padrone will expect me to bring as 
 much every day, and that I cannot do. So it will be 
 better for us both." 
 
 The transfer was quickly made, and the two boys 
 kept together until they heard the clocks strike eleven. 
 It was now so late that they determined to return to 
 their miserable lodging, for toth were tired and 
 longed for sleep. 
 
66 pniL) THE FIDDLER; on* 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE HOME OP THE FIDDLER BOYS. 
 
 IT was quarter past eleven when Phil and Giacomo 
 entered the shabby brick house which they called 
 home, for want of a better. From fifteen to twenty 
 of their companions had already arrived, and the 
 padrone was occupied in receiving their several con 
 tributions. The apartment was a mean one, misera 
 bly furnished, but seemed befitting the principal occu 
 pant, whose dark face was marked by an expression 
 of greed, and alternately showed satisfaction or dis 
 appointment as the contents of the boys pockets were 
 satisfactory or otherwise. Those who had done 
 badly were set apart for punishment. 
 
 He looked up as the two boys entered. 
 
 " Well, Filippo," he said harshly, " how much have 
 you got?" 
 
 Phil handed over his earnings They were up to 
 
TUB YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 67 
 
 the required limit, but the padrone looked only half 
 satisfied. 
 
 " Is that all you have? " he asked suspiciously. 
 
 "It is all, signore." 
 
 "You have not done well this afternoon, then. 
 When I met you at twelve o clock you had more 
 than a dollar." 
 
 " It was because a good signora gave me fifty cents." 
 
 The padrone, still suspicious, plunged his hands 
 into Phil s pockets, but in vain. He could not find 
 another penny. 
 
 "Take off your shoes and stockings," he said, still 
 unsatisfied. 
 
 Phil obediently removed his shoes and stockings, but 
 no money was found concealed, as the padrone half 
 suspected. Sometimes those poor boys, beset by a 
 natural temptation, secrete a portion of their daily 
 earnings. Whenever they are detected, woe betide 
 them. The padrone makes an example of them, in 
 flicting a cruel punishment, in order to deter other 
 boys from imitating them. 
 
 Having discovered nothing, he took Phil s violin, 
 and proceeded to Giacomo. 
 
63 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; on, 
 
 " Now for you," be said. 
 
 Giacomo banded over bis money. Tbe padrone was 
 surprised in turn, but bis surprise was of a different 
 nature. He bad expected to find him deficient, know 
 ing that be was less enterprising than Phil. He was 
 glad to get more money than he expected, but a little 
 disappointed that be bad no good excuse for beating 
 him ; for he had one of those hard, cruel natures that 
 delight in inflicting pain and anguish upon others. 
 
 " Take care that you do as well to-morrow," he said. 
 " Go and get your supper." 
 
 One of the larger boys was distributing bread 
 and cheese to the hungry boys. Nearly all ate as if 
 famished, plain and uninviting as was the supper, for 
 they bad been many hours without food. But Phil, 
 who, as we know, had eaten a good supper at Mrs. 
 Hoffman s, felt very little appetite. lie slyly gave his 
 bread to one of the boys, who, on account of the small 
 sum he brought home, had been sentenced to go with 
 out. But the sharp C3 r es of the padrone, which, 
 despite his occupation, managed to see all that was 
 going on, detected this action, and be became suspi 
 cious that Phil had bought supper out of his earnings 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 69 
 
 " Why did you give 3 r our bread to Giuseppe?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 "Because I was not hungry," answered Phil. 
 
 "Why were you not hungry? Did you buy some 
 supper ? " 
 
 " No, signorc." 
 
 " Then you should be hungry." 
 
 " A kind lady gave me some supper." 
 
 " How did it happen? " 
 
 " I knew her son. His name is Paolo. He asked 
 me to go home with him. Then he gave me a good 
 supper." 
 
 " How long were you there? You might have been 
 playing, and brought me some more money," said the 
 padrone, who, with characteristic meanness, grudged 
 the young fiddler time to eat the meal that cost him 
 nothing. 
 
 " It was not long, signore." 
 
 "You can eat what is given you, but you must not 
 waste too much time." 
 
 A boy entered next, who showed by his hesitating 
 manner that he did not anticipate a good reception 
 
70 PIIIL, THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 The padrone, accustomed to judge by appearances 
 instantly divined this. 
 
 " Well, Ludovico," he said sharply, " what do you 
 bring me?" 
 
 "Pardon, padrone," said Ludovico, producing a 
 email sum of money. u I could not help it." 
 
 " Seventy-five cents ! " repeated the padrone, indig 
 nantly. " You have been idle, yon little wretch ! " 
 
 " No, padrone. Indeed, I did my best. The people 
 would not give me money." 
 
 u Where did you go? " 
 
 <; I was in Brooklyn." 
 
 " You have spent some of the money." 
 
 " No, padrone." 
 
 " You have been idle, then. No supper to-night. 
 Pietro, my stick ! " 
 
 Pietro was one of the older bo} s. lie was ugly 
 physically, and his disposition corresponded with hia 
 appearance. lie could have few good traits, or he 
 would not have possessed the confidence of the pa 
 drone lie was an efficient assistant of the latter, 
 and co-operated with him in oppressing the other 
 ooys. Indeed, he was a nephew of the padrone s, 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN , 71 
 
 and for this reason, as well as his similarity of dis 
 position, he was treated with unusual indulgence. 
 Whenever the padrone felt suspicious of any of the 
 boys, he usually sent them out in company with 
 Pietro, who acted as a spy, faithfully reporting all 
 that happened to his principal. 
 
 Pietro responded with alacrity to the command of 
 the padrone, and produced a stout stick, which he 
 handed to his uncle. 
 
 " Now, strip off your jacket," said the padrone, 
 harshly. 
 
 " Spare me, padrone ! Do not beat me ! It was 
 not my fault," said Ludovico, imploringly. 
 
 " Take off your jacket ! " repeated the padrone* 
 pitilessly. 
 
 One look at that hard face might have taught Lu- 
 dovico, even if he had not witnessed the punishment 
 so often inflicted on other boys, that there was no 
 hope for him. 
 
 " Help him, Pietro," said the padrone. 
 
 Pietro seized Ludovico s jacket, and pulled it off 
 roughly. Then he drew off the ragged shirt which 
 
72 PHIL, THE FIDDLE It; OB, 
 
 the boy wore underneath, and his bare back was ex 
 posed to view. 
 
 " Hold him, Pietro ! " 
 
 In Pietro s firm grasp, the boy was unable to stir. 
 The padrone whirled the stick aloft, and brought 
 it down upon the naked flesh, leaving behind a fear 
 ful wail. 
 
 Ludovico shrieked aloud, and again implored 
 mercy, but in vain, for the stick descended again and 
 again. 
 
 Meanwhile the other boys looked on, helpless to 
 interfere. The more selfish were glad that they had 
 escaped, though not at all sure but it would be their 
 turn the next evening. There were others who felt 
 a passive sympathy for their unlucky comrade. 
 Others were filled with indignation at the padrone, 
 knowing how cruel and unjust were his exactions. 
 Among these was Phil. Possessed of a warm and 
 sympathetic heart, lie never witnessed these cruel 
 punishments without feeling that he would like to see 
 die padrone suffering the same pain which he inflicted 
 ipon others. 
 
 " If I were onl\ a man," he often thought, " I 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 73 
 
 would wrench the stick from his hand, and give him 
 a chance to feel it." 
 
 But he knew too well the danger of permitting his 
 real sentiments to be reflected in his face. It would 
 only bring upon him a share of the same punishment, 
 without benefiting those who were unfortunate 
 enough to receive it. 
 
 When Ludovico s punishment was ended, he was 
 permitted to go to bed, but without his supper. Nor 
 was his tile only case. Five other boys were subjected 
 to the same punishment. The stick had no want of ex 
 ercise on that evening. Here were nearly forty boys, 
 subjected to excessive fatigue, privation, and brutal 
 treatment daily, on account of the greed of one man. 
 The hours that should have been given in part to in 
 struction, and partly to such recreation as the youth 
 ful heart craves, were devoted to a pursuit that did 
 nothing to prepare them for the duties of life. And 
 this white slavery for it merits no better name is 
 permitted by the law of two great nations. Italy 19 
 in fault in suffering this traffic in her children of 
 tender years, and America is guilty as well in not 
 interfering, as she mi^ht, at all events, to abridge the 
 
74 PHIL. THE FIDDLER; OTJ, 
 
 long hours of labor required of these boys, and forc 
 ing their cruel guardians to give them some instruo 
 tion. 
 
 One by one the boys straggled in. By midnight 
 all had returned, and the boys were permitted to 
 retire to their beds, which were poor enough. This, 
 however, was the least of their troubles. Sound are 
 the slumbers of youth, however hard the couch on 
 which it rests, especially when, as with all the young 
 Italian boys, the day has been one of fati^ne. 
 
THE YOUNQ STREET MUSICIAN, 75 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A COLD DAT. 
 
 THE events thus far recorded in the life of our 
 young hero took place on a day towards the middle of 
 October, when the temperature was sufficiently mild 
 to produce no particular discomfort in those exposed 
 to it. We advance our story two months, and behold 
 Phil setting out for his day s wandering on a morning 
 in December, when the keen blasts swept through the 
 streets, sending a shiver through the frames even of 
 those who were well protected. How much more, then, 
 must it be felt by the young street musician, who, with 
 the exception of a woollen tippet, wore nothing more 
 or warmer than in the warmer months ! Yet, Phil, 
 with his naturally vigorous frame was better able to 
 bear the rigor of the winter weather than some of his 
 comrades, as Giacomo, to whom the long hours spent 
 in the streets were ladc-a with suffering and misery. 
 
 The two boys went about together when they dared 
 
76 rniLi THE FIDDLER; OK, 
 
 to do so, though the padrone objected, but for what 
 reason it did not seem manifest, unless because he 
 suspected that the two would plan something prcjn 
 dicial to his interests. Phil, who was generally more 
 successful than Giacomo, often made up his smaller 
 comrade s deficiencies by giving him a portion of his 
 own gains,^ 
 
 It was a raw daj r . Only those who felt absolutely 
 obliged to be out were to be seen in the streets ; but 
 among these were our two little fiddlers. Whatever 
 might be the weather, they were compelled to expose 
 themselves to its severity. However the boys might 
 suffer, they must bring him the usual amount. But at 
 eleven o clock the prospects seemed rather discourag 
 ing. They had but twenty-five cents between them, 
 nor would any one stop to listen to their playing. 
 
 "I wish it were night, Filippo," said Giacomo, 
 shivering with cold. 
 
 " So do I, Giacomo, Are you very cold? " 
 
 " Yes, " said the little bo}^, his teeth chattering. " [ 
 wish I were back in Italy. It is never so cold there." 
 
 " No, Giacomo ; you are right. But I would not 
 xnind the cold so much, if I had a warm overcoat like 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN . 77 
 
 that boy," pointing out a boy clad in a thick overcoat, 
 and a fur cap drawn down over his ears, while his 
 hands were encased in warm gloves. 
 
 He, too, looked at the two fiddlers, and he could not 
 help noticing how cold they looked. 
 
 "Look here, you little chaps, are you cold? You 
 look as if you had just come from Greenland." 
 
 " Yes," said Phil. " We are cold." 
 
 " Your hands look red enough. Here is an old pah 
 of gloves for one of you. I wish I had another pair. 
 They are not very thick, but they are better than 
 none." 
 
 He drew a pair of worsted gloves from his pocket, 
 and handed them to Phil. 
 
 " Thank you," said Phil ; but, having received 
 them, he gave them to Giacomo. 
 
 "You are colder than I am, Giacomo," he said 
 " Take them." 
 
 " But you are cold, too, Filippo." 
 
 " I will put my hands in my pockets. Don t mind 
 me." 
 
 Of course this conversation took place in Italian ; 
 
78 pniL, THE FIDDLER; ux, 
 
 for, though Phil had learned considerable English) 
 Giacomo knew but a few words of it. 
 
 The gloves afforded some protection, but still both 
 boys were very cold. They were in Brooklyn, hav 
 ing crossed the ferry in the morning. They had 
 wandered to a part not closely built up, where they 
 were less sheltered, and experienced greater discom 
 fort. 
 
 "Can t we go in somewhere and get warm?" 
 pleaded Giacomo. 
 
 " Here is a grocery store. We will go in there.** 
 
 Phil opened the door and entered. The shop 
 keeper, a peevish-looking man, with lightish hair, 
 stood behind the counter weighing out a pound of 
 tea for a customer. 
 
 " What do you want here, you little vagabonds?" 
 he exclaimed, harshly, as he saw the two boys enter. 
 
 "We are cold," said Phil. "May we stand by 
 your stove and get warm?" 
 
 " Do you think I provide a fire for all the vaga 
 bonds in the city?" said the grocer, with a bruta? 
 disregard of their w^iae^c suffering. 
 
THE JOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 79 
 
 Phil hesitated, not knowing whether he was or 
 dered out, or not. 
 
 " Clear out of my store, I say ! " said the groce^ 
 harshly. U I don t want you in here." 
 
 At this moment a gentleman of prepossessing ap 
 pcarance entered the store. He heard the grocer s 
 last words, and their inhumanity made him indig 
 nant. 
 
 "What do these boys want, Mr. Perkins?" hi 
 said. 
 
 u They want to spend their time in my shop. I 
 have no room for such vagabonds." 
 
 " We are cold," said Phil. " We only want tc 
 warm ourselves by the fire." 
 
 " I don t want you here," said the grocer, irritably. 
 
 "Mr. Perkins," said the gentleman, sharply, 
 "have you no humanity? What harm can it do 
 you to let these poor boys get warm "by your fire ? 
 It will cost you nothing ; it will not diminish your 
 personal comfort ; yet you drive them out into the 
 cold." 
 
 The grocer began to perceive that he was on the 
 wrong tack. The gentleman who addressed him was 
 
80 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 a regular and profitable customer, and he did not 
 like to incur his ill-will. 
 
 " They can stay, Mr. Pomeroy," he said, with an 
 ill grace, " since you ask it." 
 
 " I do not ask it. I will not accept, as a personal 
 favor, what you should have granted from a motive 
 of humanitj 7 , more especially as, after this exhibition 
 of your spirit, I shall not trade here any longer." 
 
 By this time, the grocer perceived that he had 
 made a great mistake. 
 
 " I hope you will reconsider that, Mr. Pomeroy," 
 he said, abjectly. " The fact is, I had no objection 
 to the boys warming themselves, but they are mostly 
 thieves, and I could not keep my C} es on them all the 
 time." 
 
 "I think you are mistaken. They don t look like 
 thieves. Did you ever have anything stolen by one 
 of this class of boys ? " 
 
 "Not that I know of," said the grocer, hesitat 
 ingly ; " but it is likely they would steal if they got 
 a chance." 
 
 " We have no right to say that of any one without 
 good cause." 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 81 
 
 " We never steal," said Phil, indignantly ; for he 
 had understood what was said. 
 
 " Of course he says so," sneered the grocer. 
 " Come and warm yourselves, if you want to." 
 
 The boys accepted this grudging invitation, and 
 drew near the stove. They spread out their hands, 
 and returning warmth proved very grateful to them. 
 
 "Have you been out long?" asked the gentleman 
 who had interceded in their behalf, also drawing near 
 the stove. 
 
 " Since eight, signore." 
 
 " Do you live in Brooklyn?" 
 
 " No ; in New York." 
 
 " And do you go out every day ? " 
 
 " Si, signore." 
 
 " How long since you came from Italy ? " 
 
 " A year." 
 
 " Would you like to go back? " 
 
 " He would," said Phil, pointing to his companion. 
 " I would like to stay here, if I had a good home." 
 
 " What kind of a home have you? With whom do 
 you live ? " 
 
 "With the padrone." 
 
82 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; GJZ, 
 
 "I suppose that means your guardian?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered Phil. 
 
 " Is he kind to you?" 
 
 " lie beats us if we do not bring home enough 
 money." 
 
 "Your lot is a hard one. What makes you stay 
 with him? Don t the boys ever run away?" 
 
 " Sometimes." 
 
 " "What does the padrone do in that case?" 
 
 " He tries to find them." 
 
 " And if he does, what then?" 
 
 u He beats them for a long time." 
 
 "Evidently your padrone is a brute. Why don t 
 you complain to the police ? " 
 
 Phil shrugged his shoulders, and did not answer. 
 He evidently thought the suggestion an impracticable 
 one. These boys are wont to regard the padrone as 
 above all law. His power seems to them absolute, 
 and they never dream of any interference. And, 
 indeed, there is some reason for their cherishing this 
 opinion. However brutal his treatment, I know of 
 no case where the law has stepped in to rescue the 
 young victim. This is partly, no doubt, because the 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 83 
 
 bo} S, few of whom can speak the English language, 
 do not know their rights, and seldom complain to 
 outsiders, never to the authorities. Probably, in 
 some cases, the treatment is less brutal than I have 
 depicted ; but from the best information I can obtain 
 from trustworthy sources, I fear that the reality, if 
 anything, exceeds the picture I have drawn. 
 
 " I think I should enjoy giving your padrone a 
 horsewhipping," said the gentleman, impetuously. 
 " Can such things be permitted in the nineteenth 
 century?" 
 
 " I have no doubt the little rascals deserve all 
 they get," said the grocer, who would probably have 
 found in the Italian padrone a congenial spirit. 
 
 Mr. Pomeroy deigned no repty to this remark. 
 
 "Well, boys," he said, consulting his watch, U I 
 must leave you. Here are twenty- five cents for each 
 of you. I have one piece of advice for you. If 
 your padrone beats you badly, run away from him 
 I would if I were in }~our place." 
 
 " Addio, signore," said the two boys. 
 
 " I suppose that means good-by. Well, good-by 
 and better luck." 
 
84 PHIL* THE FIDDLER; on, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PIETRO, THE SPY. 
 
 THOUGH from notions of policy the grocer bad 
 permitted the two boys to warm themselves by his 
 fire, he felt only the more incensed against them on 
 this account, and when Mr. Pomeroy had gone de 
 termined to get rid of them. 
 
 " Haven t you got warm yet?" he asked. " I can t 
 have you in my way all day." 
 
 " We will go," said Phil. " Come, Giacomo." 
 
 lie did not thank the grocer, knowing how grudg 
 ingly permission had been given. 
 
 So they went out again into the chill air, but they 
 had got thoroughly warmed, and were better able to 
 bear it. 
 
 " Where shall we go, Filippo ? " asked the younger 
 boy. 
 
 " We will o;o back to New York. It is not BO 
 cold there." 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 85 
 
 Giacomo unhesitatingly assented to whatever Phil 
 proposed. lie was not self-reliant, like our hero, but 
 always liked to have some one to lean upon. 
 
 They made their way back to Fulton Ferry in a 
 leisurely manner, stopping here and there to pla} r ; 
 but it was a bad day for business. The cold was 
 such that no one stopped to give them anything ex 
 cept one young man dropped ten cents in Phil s 
 hand as he hurried b}*. 
 
 At length they reached the ferry. The passengers 
 were not so many in number as usual. The cabin 
 was so warm and comfortable that they remained on 
 board for two or three trips, playing each time. In 
 this way they obtained about thirty cents more. 
 They would have remained longer, but that one of 
 the deck hands asked, u How many times are you 
 going across for two cents?" and this made them 
 think it prudent to go. 
 
 When six o clock came Giacomo asked Phil, who 
 acted as treasurer, how much money they had. 
 
 " Two dollars," answered Phil. 
 
 " That is only one dollar for each." 
 
 " Yes, Giacomo." 
 
86 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; on, 
 
 " Then we shall be beaten," said the little boy, with 
 a sigh. 
 
 " I am afraid so." 
 
 " And get no supper." 
 
 "Yes," said Phil; "unless," he ^dded, "we get 
 some supper now." 
 
 "With tliis money?" asked Giacomo. startled at 
 the boldness of the suggestion. 
 
 " Yes ; we shall be beaten at any rate. It will be 
 no worse for us if we get some supper/ 1 
 
 " Will you buy some bread? " 
 
 " No," said Phil, daringly. " I am going to buy 
 some meat." 
 
 " What will the padrone say? " 
 
 " I shall not tell the padrone." 
 
 " Do you think he will find out?" 
 
 "No. Besides, we ought to have some supper 
 after walking about all day." 
 
 Evidently Phil had begun to think, and the es 
 sential injustice of laboring without proper compensa 
 tion had impressed his youthful mind. Giacomo was 
 more timid. lie had not advanced as far as Phil, nor 
 was he as daring. But I have already said that he 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN". 87 
 
 was guided in a great measure by Phil, and so it 
 proved in this case. Phil, having made up his mind, 
 set about carrying his plan into execution. Only a 
 block distant was a cheap restaurant, where plates of 
 meat were supplied to a poor class of customers at 
 ten cents per plate. 
 
 " Let us go in here," he said. 
 
 Giacomo followed, but not without trepidation. 
 He knew that what they were about to do would be a 
 heinous crime in the eyes of the padrone. Even Phil 
 had never ventured upon such direct rebellion before. 
 But Mr. Pomeroy s suggestion that he should run 
 away was beginning to bear fruit in his mind. He 
 had not come to that yet, but he might. Why should 
 
 he not earn mone}^ for his own benefit, as well as for 
 
 ^L- 
 the padrone? True, he was bound to the latter by a 
 
 legal contract entered into by his father, but Phil, 
 without knowing much about law, had an indistinct 
 idea that the contract was a one-sided one, and was 
 wholly for the advantage of the other party. The 
 tyrant is always in danger of losing his hold upon 
 the victim when the latter begins to think. 
 
88 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; ox, 
 
 They entered the restaurant, and sat down at a 
 table. 
 
 The tables were greasy. The floor was strewn 
 with sawdust. The waiters were clirtj 7 , and the en 
 tire establishment was neither neat nor inviting. 
 But it was democratic. No customers were sent 
 away because they were nnfashionably attired. The 
 only requisite was, money enough to defray their 
 bills. Nevertheless Giacomo felt a little in awe 
 even of the dirty waiters. His frugal meals were 
 usually bought at the baker s shop, and eaten stand 
 ing in the street. Sitting down at a table, even 
 though it were greasy, seemed a degree of luxury to 
 which he was not entitled. But Phil more easily 
 adapted himself to circumstances. He knew that he 
 had as much right there as any other customer. 
 
 Presently a waiter presented himself. 
 
 " Have you ordered? " he asked. 
 
 " Givo me some roast beef," said Phil. " What 
 wil. you have, Giacomo?" 
 
 "The same as you, Filippo," said Giacomo, in 
 Italian. 
 
THE TOUXO STREET MUSICIAN". 89 
 
 " What s that?" asked the waiter, thinking he had 
 named some dish. 
 
 " lie will have some roast beef, too. Will you havo 
 some coffee, Giacomo?" 
 
 "If you have it," answered the smaller boy, 
 doubtfully. 
 
 So Phil gave the double order, and very soon the 
 coffee and meat were placed before them. I suspect 
 that few of my readers would have regarded those 
 articles with any relish. One need not be fastidious 
 to find fault with the dark-hued beverage, which was 
 only a poor imitation of coffee, and the dark frag 
 ments of meat, which might have been horse-flesh so 
 far as appearance went. But to the two Italian boys 
 it was indeed a feast. The coffoe, which was hot, 
 warmed their stomachs, and seemed to them like 
 nectar, while the meat was as palatable as the epicure 
 finds his choicest dishes. While eating, even Giacomo 
 forgot that he was engaged in something unlawful, 
 and his face was lighted up with rare satisfaction. 
 
 " It is good," said Phil, bricity, as he laid down his 
 knife Mid fork, after disposing of the las* morsel upon 
 his plate. 
 
90 p/77/v, THE FIDDLER; ox, 
 
 " I wish I could have such a supper every day," 
 said Giacomo. 
 
 " I will when I am a man," said Phil. 
 
 " I don t think I shall ever be a man," said 
 Giacomo, shaking his head. 
 
 "TVliy not?" asked Phil, regarding him with sur 
 prise. 
 
 " I do not think I shall live." 
 
 " What makes you think so, Giacomo?" said Phil, 
 startled. 
 
 " I am not strong, Filippo," said the little boy. " 1 
 think I get weaker every day. I long so much to go 
 back to Itaty. If I could sec my mother once more, 
 I would be willing to die then." 
 
 " You must not think of such things, Giacomo," 
 said Phil, who, like most healthy boys, did not like to 
 think of death. "You will get strong when summer 
 comes. The weather is bad now." 
 
 " I don t think I shall, Filippo. Do } T OU remem]>ei 
 Matteo?" 
 
 " Yes, I remember him." 
 
 Matteo was a comrade who had died six 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 91 
 
 before. He was a young boy, about the size and age 
 of Giacomo. 
 
 " I dreamed of him last niglit, Filippo. He held 
 out bis band to me." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " I tbink I am going to die, like bim." 
 
 "Don t be so foolisb, Giacomo," said Pbil. But, 
 tbougb be said this, even be was startled by what 
 Giacomo bad told him. lie was ignorant, and the 
 ignorant are prone to superstition ; so be felt un 
 comfortable, but did not like to acknowledge it. 
 
 " You must not think of this, Giacomo," he said 
 You will be En old man some day." 
 
 " That s for you, Filippo. It isn t for me," said the 
 little boy. 
 
 " Come, let us go," said Pbil, desirous of dropping 
 the subject. 
 
 He went up to the desk, and paid for both, the sum 
 of thirty cents. 
 
 " Now, come," be said. 
 
 Giacomo followed bim out, and they turned down the 
 street, feeling refreshed by the supper the} had eaten. 
 But unfortunately they had been observed. As they 
 
92 P77/L, THE FIDDLER; OK, 
 
 left the restaurant, they attracted the attention of 
 Pietro, whom chance had brought thither at an unfortu 
 nate time. His sinister face lighted up with joy as he 
 realized the discover} he had made. But he wished 
 to make sure that it was as he supposed. They might 
 have gone in only to play and sing. 
 
 He crossed the street, unobserved by Phil and 
 Giacomo, and entered the restaurant. 
 
 " Were my two brothers here? " he asked, assuming 
 the relationship. 
 
 " Two boys with fiddles ? " 
 
 " Yes ; they just went out." 
 
 " Did they get supper ? " 
 
 " Yes ; they had some roast beef and coffee." 
 
 " Thank you," said Pietro, and he loft the restau 
 rant with his suspicions confirmed. 
 
 "I shall tell the pairone," he said <:Q himself. 
 "They will feel the s .icl: tonight." 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 93 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 FRENCH S HOTEL. 
 
 PIETRO Lad one of those mean and malignant 
 natures that are best pleased when they are instru 
 mental in bringing others into trouble. He looked 
 forward to becoming a padrone himself some day, 
 and seemed admirably fitted by nature to exercise the 
 inhuman office. lie lost no time, on his return, in 
 making known to his uncle what he had learned. 
 
 For the boys to appropriate to their own use 
 money which had been received for their services 
 was, in the eyes of the padrone, a crime of the dark 
 est shade. In fact, if the example were generally 
 followed, it would have made a large diminution of 
 his income, though the bo} T s might have been bene 
 fited. He listened to Pictro with an ominous scowl, 
 and decided to inflict condign punishment upon the 
 young offenders . 
 
 Meanwhile Phil and Giacomo resumed their wan- 
 
94 r.BIL, THE FIDDLE Jt; Ofl, 
 
 derings. The} r no longer hoped to make up the 
 large difference between what they had, and the sura 
 they were expected, by the padrone, to bring. As 
 the evening advanced the cold increased, and pene 
 trated through their thin clothing, chilling them 
 through and through. Giacomo felt it the most. 
 By and by he began to sob with the cold and fatigue. 
 
 " What is the matter, Giacomo?" asked Phil. 
 
 " I feel so cold, Filippo, so cold and tired. I 
 wish I could rest." 
 
 The boys were in Printing House Square, near the 
 spot where now stands the Franklin statue. 
 
 " If you want to rest, Giacomo," said Phil, pity- 
 ingry, " we will go into French s Hotel a little 
 while." 
 
 " I should like to." 
 
 They entered the hotel, and sat down near the 
 heater. The grateful warmth diffused itself through 
 their frames, and Giacomo sank back in his seat with 
 a sigh of relief. 
 
 " Do you feel better, Giacomo?" asked his com 
 rade. 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 95 
 
 " Yes, Filipf o ; I wish I could stay here till it is 
 time to go home." 
 
 " We will, then. We shall get no more money 
 outside." 
 
 u The padrone " 
 
 ct Will beat us at any rate. It will be no worse for 
 us. Besides, they may ask us to play here." 
 
 " I can play no more to-night, Filippo, I am so 
 tired." 
 
 Phil knew very little of sickness, or he might have 
 seen that Giacomo was going to be ill. Exposure, 
 fatigue, and privation had been too much for his 
 strength. lie had never been robust, and he had 
 been subjected to trials that would have proved hard 
 for one much stronger to bear. 
 
 When he had once determined to remain in the 
 comfortable hotel, Phil leaned back in his chair also, 
 and decided to enjoy all the comfort attainable. 
 What though there was a beating in prospect? Ho 
 had before him two or three hours of rest and relief 
 from the outside cold. He was something of a phi 
 losopher, and chose not to let future evil interfere 
 with present good, 
 
96 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 Near the two boys sat two young men, mer 
 chants from the interior of New York State, who 
 were making a business visit to the metropolis. 
 
 " Well, Gardner," said the first, " where shall we 
 go to-night?" 
 
 "Why need we go anywhere? " 
 
 " I thought you might like to go to some place of 
 amusement." 
 
 " So I would if the weather were less inclement. 
 The most comfortable place is by the fire." 
 
 " You are right as to that, but the evening will 
 be long and stupid." 
 
 " Oh, we can worry it through. Here, for instance, 
 are two young musicians," indicating the little 
 fiddlers. "Suppose we get a tune out of them?" 
 
 "Agreed. Here, boy, can you play on that 
 fiddle?" 
 
 " Yes," said Phil. 
 
 ""Well, give us a tune, then. Is that your 
 brother?" 
 
 " No, he is my comrade." 
 
 " lie can play too." 
 
 u Will you play, Giacomo ? " 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 97 
 
 The younger boy roused himself. The two stood 
 ap, and played two or three tunes successively. A 
 group of loungers gathered around them, and listened 
 approvingly. When they had finished, Phil took off 
 his hat and went the rounds. Some gave, the two 
 first mentioned contributing most liberally. The 
 whole sum collected was about fifty cents. 
 
 Phil and Giacomo now resumed their seats. They 
 felt now that they were entitled to rest for the re 
 mainder of the evening, since they had gained quite as 
 much as they would have been likely to earn in wander 
 ing about the streets. The group that had gathered 
 about them dispersed, and they ceased to be objects 
 of attention. Fatigue and the warmth of the room 
 gradually affected Giacomo until he leaned back and 
 fell asleep. 
 
 "I won t wake him till it s time to go back," 
 thought Phil. 
 
 So Giacomo slept on, despite the noises in the 
 street outside, and the confusion incident to every 
 large hotel. As he sat asleep, he attracted the at 
 tention of a stout gentleman, who was passing, lead 
 ing by the hand a boy of ten. 
 
98 PHIL, THE FIDDLE Ji; OJ*, 
 
 " Is that your brother? " he asked of Phil. 
 
 * No, signore ; it is my comrade." 
 
 " So you go about together? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered Phil, bethinking himself to 
 use English instead of Italian. 
 
 " He seems tired." 
 
 " Yes ; he is not so strong as I am." 
 
 ** Do you play about the streets all day ? " 
 
 44 Yes, sir." 
 
 "How would you like that, Henry?" asked hia 
 father to the boy at his side. 
 
 " I should like to play about the streets all day," 
 said Henry, roguishly, misinterpreting the word play. 
 
 " I think you would get tired of it. What is your 
 name, my boy ? " 
 
 " Filippo." 
 
 " And what is the name of your friend f 
 
 " Giacomo." 
 
 " Did you never go to school ? " 
 
 Phil shook his hea 1. 
 
 "Would you like to?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 99 
 
 "You would like it better than wandering about 
 the streets all clay ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Why do you not ask }*our father to send you to 
 school ? " 
 
 " My father is in Italy." 
 
 "And his father, also?" 
 
 " Si, signore," answered Phil, relapsing into 
 Italian. 
 
 "What do you think of that, Henry?" asked the 
 gentleman. "How should you like to leave me, and 
 go to some Italian city to roam about all day, play~ 
 ing on the violin ? " 
 
 " I think I would rather go to school." 
 
 " I think you would." 
 
 "Are you often out so late, Filippo? I think that 
 is the name you gave me." 
 
 Phil shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Always," he answered. 
 
 " At what time do you go home? " 
 
 " At eleven." 
 
 " It is too late for a boy of your age to sit up, 
 Why do you not go home sooner?" 
 
100 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 " The padrone would beat me." 
 "Who is the padrone?" 
 
 " The man who brought me from Italy." 
 
 " Poor boys ! " said the gentleman, compassion 
 ately. " Yours is a hard life. I hope some time 
 you will be in a better position." 
 
 Phil fixed Iris dark eyes upon the stranger, grateful 
 for his words of sympathy. 
 
 " Thank you," he said. 
 
 " Good-night," said the stranger, kindly. 
 
 "Good-night, signorc." 
 
 An hour passed. The City Hall clock near by 
 struck cloven. The time had come for returning to 
 their mercenary guardian. Phil shook the sleeping 
 form of Giaeomo. The little boy stirred in his sleep, 
 and murmured "M;idrc." He had been dreaming of 
 his mother and his f.ir-off Italian home. lie woke to 
 the harsh realities of life, four thousand miles away 
 from that mother and home. 
 
 "Have I slept, Filippo?" he asked, rubbing his 
 eyes, and looking about him in momentary bewilder 
 ment. 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. ,1Q1 
 
 "Yes, Giacomo. You have slept for two hours 
 and more. It is eleven o clock." 
 
 " Then we must go back." 
 
 " Yes ; take your violin, and we will go." 
 
 They passed out into the cold street, which seemed 
 yet colder by contrast with the warm hotel they had 
 just left, and, crossing to the sidewalk that skirts the 
 park, walked up Centre Street. 
 
 Giacomo was seized with a fit of trembling. His 
 teeth chattered with the cold. A fever was ap 
 proaching, although neither he nor his companion 
 knew it. 
 
 "Are you cold, Giacomo?" asked Phil, noticing 
 how he trembled. 
 
 " I am very cold. I feel sick, Filippo." 
 
 " You will feel better to-morrow," said Phil ; but 
 the thought of the beating which his little comrade 
 was sure to receive saddened him more than the 
 prospect of being treated in the same way himself. 
 
 They kept on their way, past the Tombs with its 
 gloomy entrance, through the ill-lighted street, 
 scarcely noticed by the policeman whom they passed, 
 for he was accustomed to see boys of their class 
 
102, PKIL, THE FIDDLER; o/?, 
 
 out late at night, until at last they reached the 
 dwelling of the padrone, who was waiting thoir 
 arrival with the eagerness of a bruta nature, 
 tient to inflict pain. 
 
THIS YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 103 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 HOW THE PADRONE RECEIVED THEM. 
 
 PHIL and Giacomo entered the lodging-house, 
 wholly unconscious of the threatening storm. The 
 padrone scowled at them as they entered ; but that was 
 nothing unusual. Had he greeted them kindty, they 
 would have had reason to be surprised. 
 
 " Well," he said harshly, " how much do you 
 bring?" 
 
 The boys produced two dollars and a half, which 
 he pocketed. 
 
 "Is this all?" he asked. 
 
 " It was cold," said Phil, " and we could not get 
 more." 
 
 The padrone listened with an ominous frown. 
 
 " Are 3 r ou hungry ? " he asked. " Do you want your 
 supper ? " 
 
 Phil was puzzled by his manner, for he expected 
 to be deprived of his supper, on account of bringing 
 
104 rniL, THE FIDDLER; as, 
 
 less money than usual. Why should the padrone ask 
 him if he wanted his supper? Though he was not 
 hungry, he thought it best to answer in the affirma 
 tive. 
 
 " What would you like?" asked the padrone. 
 
 Again Phil was puzzled, for the suppers supplied by 
 the padrone never varied, always consisting of bread 
 and cheese. 
 
 "Perhaps," continued the padrone, meeting no 
 answer, " you would like some coffee and roast beef." 
 
 All was clear now. Phil understood that he 
 had been seen going in or out of the restaurant, 
 though ho could not tell by whom. He knew well 
 enough what to expect, bat a chivalrous feeling of 
 friendship lod him to try to shield his young compan 
 ion, even :if tho risk of a more severe punishment to 
 be inflicted upon himself. 
 
 "It was my fault," he said, manfully. "Giacomo 
 would not have gone In but for me." 
 
 " Wicked, ungrateful boy ! " exclaimed the padrone, 
 wrathfully. " It was m}^ money that you spent. You 
 are a thief ! " 
 
 Phil felt that this was a hard word, which he did not 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN: 105 
 
 deserve. The money was earned by himself, though 
 claimed by the padrone. But he did not venture to 
 say this. It would have been revolutionary. He 
 thought it prudent to be silent. 
 
 "Why do you say nothing?" exclaimed the 
 padrone, stamping his foot. " Why did you spend 
 my money ? " 
 
 " I was hungry. 1 
 
 "So you must live like a nobleman ! Our supper 
 is not good enough for you. How much did you 
 spend?" 
 
 " Thirty cents." 
 
 "For each?" 
 
 " No, signore, for both." 
 
 " Then you shall have each fifteen blows, one for 
 each penny. I will teach you to be a thief. Pietro, 
 the stick ! Now, strip ! " 
 
 " Padrone," said Phil, generously, " let me have 
 all the blows. It was my fault ; Giacomo only went 
 because I asked him." 
 
 If the padrone had had a heart, this generous 
 request would have touched it ; but he was not 
 troubled in that way. 
 
106 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; o??, 
 
 " He must be whipped too," he said. " He should 
 not have gone with you." 
 
 "He is sick, padrone," persisted Phil. "Excuse 
 him till he is better." 
 
 u Not a word more," roared the padrone, irritated 
 at his persistence. " If he is sick, it is because he has 
 eaten too much," he added, with a sneer. "Pietro, my 
 stick ! " 
 
 The two boys began to strip mechanically, knowing 
 that there was no appeal. Phil stood bare to the waist. 
 The padrone seized the stick, and began to belabor 
 him. Phil s brown face showed by its contortions the 
 pain he suffered, but he was too proud to cry out. 
 When the punishment was finished, his back was 
 streaked w r ith red, and looked maimed and bruised. 
 
 " Put on your shirt ! " commanded the tyrant. 
 
 Phil drew it on over his bleeding back, and resumed 
 his place among his comrades. 
 
 " Now ! " said the padrone, beckoning to Giaoomo. 
 
 The little boy approached, shivering, not so much 
 with cold, as with the fever that had already begun 
 to prey upon him. 
 
 Phil turned pale and sick, as he looked at the pa 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 107 
 
 drone, preparing to inflict punishment. lie would 
 gladly have left the room, but he knew that it would 
 not be permitted. 
 
 The first blow descended heavily upon the shrink 
 ing form of i the little victim. It was followed by a 
 shriek of pain and terror. 
 
 "What are you howling at?" muttered the pa 
 drone between his teeth. " I will whip you the 
 harder." 
 
 Giacomo would have been less able to bear the 
 cruel punishment than Phil if he had been well, but 
 being sick, it was all the more terrible to him. The 
 second blow likewise was followed by a shriek of 
 anguish. Phil looked on with pale face, set teeth, 
 and blazing C} es, as he saw the barbarous punishment 
 of his comrade. lie felt that he hated the padrone 
 with a fierce hatred. Had his strength been equal to 
 the attempt, he would have flung himself upon the 
 padrone. As it was, he looked at his comrades, half 
 wishing that they would combine with him against 
 their joint oppressor. But there was no hope of that. 
 Some congratulated themselves that they were not in 
 Giacomo s place ; others looked upon his punishment 
 
108 p/7/z, THE FIDDLER; OK, 
 
 as a matter of course. There was no dream of inter 
 ference, save in the mind of Phil. 
 
 The punishment continued amid the groans and 
 prayers for mercy of the little sufferer. But at the 
 eighth stroke his pain and terror reached a climax, 
 and nature succumbed. lie sank on the floor, faint 
 ing. The padrone thought at first it was a pretence, 
 and was about to repeat the strokes, when a look at the 
 pallid, colorless face of the little sufferer alarmed him. 
 It did not excite his compassion, but kindled the 
 fear that the boy might be dying, in which case the 
 police might interfere, and give him trouble ; there 
 fore he desisted, but unwillingly. 
 
 " lie is sick," said Phil, starting forward. 
 
 " lie is no more sick than I am," scowled the 
 padrone. " Pietro, some water ! " 
 
 Pietro brought a glass of water, which the padrone 
 threw in the face of the fallen bo}^. The shock 
 brought him partially to. lie opened his eyes, and 
 looked around vacantly. 
 
 "What is the matter with you?" demanded the 
 padrone, harshly. 
 
 " Where am I?" asked Giacomo, bewildered. But, 
 
THE YOUXG STREET MUSICIAN. 109 
 
 as he asked this question, his eyes met the dark look 
 of his tyrant, and he clasped his hands in terror. 
 
 " Do not beat ine ! " he pleaded. " I feel sick. 5 * 
 
 " He is only shamming," said Pietro, who was 
 worthy to be the servant and nephew of such a 
 master. But the padrone thought it would not be 
 prudent to continue the punishment. 
 
 " Help him put on his clothes, Pietro," he said. " 1 
 will let you off this time, little rascal, but take heed 
 that you never again steal my money." 
 
 Giacomo was permitted to seek his uncomfortable 
 bed. His back was so sore with the beating he had 
 received, that he was compelled to lie on his side. 
 During the night the feverish symptoms increased, 
 and before morning he was very sick. The padrone 
 was forced to take some measures for his recovery, 
 not from motives of humanity, but because Giacomo s 
 death would cut off a source of daily revenue, and 
 this, in the eyes of the mercenary padrone, was an im 
 portant consideration. 
 
 Phil went to bed in silence. Though he was suffer 
 ing from the brutal blows he had received, the 
 thought of the punishment and suffering of Giacomo 
 
110 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; o#, 
 
 affected him more deeply than his own. As I have 
 said, the two boys came from the same town in 
 southern Italy. They had known each other almost 
 from infancy, and something of a fraternal feeling 
 had grown up between them. In Phil s case, since 
 he was the stronger, it was accompanied by the feel 
 ing that he should be a protector to the younger boy, 
 who, on his side, looked up to Phil as stronger and 
 wiser than himself. Though only a boy of twelve, 
 what had happened led Phil to think seriously of 
 his position and prospects. lie did not know for 
 how long his services had been sold to the padrone 
 by his father, but he felt sure that the letter of the 
 contract would be little regarded as long as his ser 
 vices were found profitable. 
 
 What hope, then, had he of better treatment in the 
 future? There seemed no prospect except of con 
 tinued oppression and long days of hardship, unless 
 and here the suggestion of Mr. Pomeroy occurred 
 to him unless he ran away. He had known of 
 boys doing this before. Some had been brought 
 back, and of course were punished severely for their 
 temerity, but others had escaped, and had never re 
 
THS YOUtfG STREET MUSICIAN. Ill 
 
 turned. What had become of them Phil did not 
 know, but he rightly concluded that they could not 
 be any worse off than in the service of the padrone. 
 Thinking of all this, Phil began to think it probable 
 that he, too, would some day break his bonds, and 
 run away. He did not fix upon any time. He had not 
 got as far as this. But circumstances, as we shall 
 find in our next chapter, hastened his determination, 
 and this, though he knew it not, was the last night 
 that he would sleep in the house of the padione. 
 
112 pniL) THE FIDDLER; 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 GIACOMO S PRESENTIMENTS. 
 
 PHIL woke up the next morning feeling lame and 
 sore. His back bore traces of the flogging he had 
 received the night before. As his eyes opened, they 
 rested upon twenty boys lying about him, and 
 also upon the dark, unsightly walls of the shabby 
 room, and the prospect before him served to depress 
 even his hopeful temperament. But he was not per 
 mitted to meditate long. Pietro opened the door, 
 and called out in harsh tones : " Get up, all of you, 
 or the padrone will be here with his stick ! " 
 
 The invitation was heard and obeyed. The boys 
 got up, yawning, and rubbing their C3 r es, having a 
 wholesome dread of their tyrant and his stick, which 
 no tenderness of heart ever made him reluctant to 
 use. Their toilet did not require long to make. The 
 padrone was quite indifferent whether they were 
 
THE YOU\(J STREET MUSICIAN". 113 
 
 clean or not, and offered them no facilities for wash- 
 in^. 
 
 When they were dressed, they were supplied with i 
 frugal breakiast, a piece of bread and cheese each ; 
 their instruments were given them, and they were 
 started off for a long day of toil. 
 
 Phil looked around for Giacomo, who had slept in 
 a different room, but he was not to be seen. 
 
 " Is Giacomo sick this morning, Pietro?" he asked 
 of the padrone s nephew. 
 
 "He pretends to be sick, little drone!" said 
 Pietro, unfeelingly. "If I were the padrone, I 
 would let him taste the stick again." 
 
 Phil felt that he would like to see the brutal 
 speaker suffering the punishment he wanted inflicted 
 on him ; but he knew Pietro s power and malice too 
 well to give utterance to the wish. A longing came 
 to him to see Giacomo before he went out. He 
 might have had a secret presentiment of what was 
 coming. 
 
 " Signor Pietro," lie said, u may I see Giacomo 
 before I go out ? " 
 
 This request would have been refused, without 
 
114 p/7/z, THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 doubt, but that Pietro felt flattered at being ad 
 dressed as signer, to which his years did not yet 
 entitle him. Phil knew this, and therefore used the 
 
 " What do you want to see him for? " he asked. 
 
 " I want to ask him how he feels." 
 
 " Yes, you can go in. Tell him he must get up to 
 morrow. The padrone will not let him spend his 
 time in idleness." 
 
 So Phil, having already his fiddle under his arm, 
 entered the room where Giacomo lay. The other 
 occupants of the room had risen, and the little boy 
 was tying on a hard pallet in the corner. His eyes 
 lighted up with joy as he saw Phil enter. 
 
 " I am glad it is you, Filippo," he said ; " 1 
 thought it was the padrone, come to make me get 
 np." 
 
 " How do you feel this morning, Giacomo? " 
 
 " I do not feel well, Filippo. My back is sore, 
 md I am so weak." 
 
 His eyes were very bright with the fever that had 
 now control, and his cheeks were hot an 3 flushed. 
 Phil put his hand upon them. 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 115 
 
 "Your cheeks are very hot, Giacomo," he =aid. 
 14 You are going to be sick." 
 
 " I know it, Filippo," said the little boy. " 1 may 
 be very sick." 
 
 44 I hope not, Giacorao." 
 
 44 Lean over, Filippo," said Giacomo. " I want 
 to tell you something." 
 
 Phil leaned over until his ear was close to the 
 mouth of his little comrade. 
 
 44 1 think I am going to die, Filippo," whispered 
 Giacomo. 
 
 Phil started in dismay. 
 
 44 No, no, Giacomo," he said ; 4 that is nonsense. 
 You will live a great many years " 
 
 44 1 think you will, Filippo. You are strong. But 
 I have always been weak, and lately I am tired all 
 the time. I don t care to live very much. It is 
 hard to live ; " and the little boy sighed, as he spoke. 
 
 44 You are too young to die, Giacomo. It is only 
 because you are sick that you think of it. You will 
 soon be better." 
 
 4; I do not think so, Filippo. I should like to live 
 for one thins." 
 
116 PIIIL, THE FIDDLER, OR, 
 
 "What is that?" asked Phil, gazing with strange 
 wonder at the patient, sad face of the little sufferer, 
 who seemed so ready to part with the life, which, in 
 spite of his privations and hardships, seemed so 
 bright to him. 
 
 " I should like to go back to my home in Italy, 
 and sec my mother again before I die. She loved 
 me!" 
 
 The almost unconscious emphasis which he laid on 
 the word " she " showed that in his own mind he was 
 comparing her with his father, who had sold him into 
 such cruel slavery. 
 
 " If you live, Giacomo, you will go back and see 
 her some day." 
 
 " I shall never see her again, Filippo," said the 
 little bo} 7 ", sadly. "If you ever go back to Italy 
 when you are older will you go and see her, and 
 tell her that that I thought of her when I was 
 sick, and wanted to see her ? " 
 
 " Yes, Giacomo," said Phil, affected by hi& U tie 
 companion s manner. 
 
 " Filippo ! " called Pietro, in harsh tones. 
 
 " I must go," said Phil, starting to his feet 
 
THE YOUNO STREET MUSICIAN. 117 
 
 " Kiss me before you go," said Giacomo. 
 
 Phil bent over and kissed the feverish lips of the 
 little boy, and then hurried out of the room. Ho 
 never saw Giacomo again ; and this, though he knew 
 it not, was his last farewell to his little comrade. 
 
 So JPhil commenced his wanderings. He was free 
 in one way he could go where he pleased. The 
 padrone did not care where he picked up his money, 
 as long as he brought home a satisfactory amount. 
 Phil turned to go up-town, though he had no definite 
 destination in view. lie missed Giacomo who lately 
 had wandered about in his company, and felt lonely 
 without him. 
 
 "Poor Giacomo!" he thought. " I hope he will 
 be well soon." 
 
 " Avast there, boy ! " some one called. " Just 
 come to anchor, and give us a tune." 
 
 Phil looked up and saw two sailors bearing down 
 upon him (to use a nautical phrase) with arms 
 locked, and evidently with more liquor on board than 
 they could carry steadily. 
 
 " Give us a tune, boy, and we ll pay you," said the 
 second. 
 
118 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; on, 
 
 Phil had met such customers before, and knew 
 what would please them. lie began playing some 
 lively dancing tunes, with so much effect that the 
 sailors essayed to dance on the sidewalk, much to 
 the amusement of a group of boys who collected 
 around them. 
 
 " Go it, blue jacket ! Go it, boots ! " exclaimed 
 the boys, designating them by certain prominent 
 articles of dress. 
 
 The applause appeared to stimulate them to 
 further efforts, and they danced and jumped high in 
 air, to the hilarious delight of their juvenile specta 
 tors. After a time such a crowd collected that the 
 attention of a passing policeman was attracted. 
 
 "What s all this disturbance?" he demanded, in 
 tones of authority. 
 
 " We re stretching our legs a little, shipmate," said 
 the first sailor. 
 
 "Then you d better stretch them somewhere else 
 than in the street." 
 
 " I thought this was a free country," hiccoughed 
 the second. 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 119 
 
 You ll find it isn t if I get hold of you," said the 
 officer. 
 
 "Want to fight?" demanded the second sailor, 
 belligerently. 
 
 " Boy, stop playing," said the policeman. "I don t 
 want to arrest these men unless I am obliged to do 
 it." 
 
 Phil stopped playing, and this put a stop to the 
 dance. Finding there was no more to be seen, the 
 crowd also dispersed. With arms again interlocked, 
 the sailors were about to resume their walk, forget 
 ting to " pay the piper." But Phil was not at all 
 bashful about presenting his claims. He took off his 
 cap, and going up to the jolly pair said, " I want 
 some pennies." 
 
 Sailors are free with their money. Parsimony is 
 not one of their vices. Both thrust their hands into 
 their pockets, and each drew out a handful of scrip, 
 which they put into Phil s hands, without looking to 
 soe how much it might be. 
 
 "That s al. right, boy, isn t it?" inquired the 
 fir si. 
 
 " All right," answered Phil, wondering at their 
 
120 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; o/?, 
 
 munificence. He only anticipated a few pennies, and 
 here looked to be as much as he was generally able 
 to secure in a day. As soon as he got a good chance 
 he counted it over, and found four half dollars, throe 
 quarters, and four tens, in all, three dollars and 
 fifteen cents. At this rate, probably, the sailors 
 money would not last long. However, this was none 
 of Phil s business. It was only nine o clock in the 
 forenoon, and he had already secured enough to pur 
 chase immunity from blows at night. Still there was 
 one thing unsatisfactory about it. All this money 
 was to go into the hands of the padrone. Phil him 
 self would reap none of the benefit, unless he bought 
 his dinner, as he had purchased supper the evening 
 before. But for this he had been severely punished, 
 though he could not feel that he had done very 
 wrong in spending the money he had himself earned. 
 However, it would be three hours yet before the ques 
 tion of dinner would come up. 
 
 He put the money into the pocket of his ragged 
 vest, and walked on. 
 
 It was not so cold as the day before. The ther 
 mometer had risen twenty-five degrees during the 
 
TUG YOC7NG STREE F MUSICTAX. 721 
 
 night, a great change, but not unusual in our vari 
 able climate. Phil rather enjoyed this walk, notwith 
 standing his back was a little lame. 
 
 He walked up the Bowery to the point where Third 
 and Fourth Avenues converge into it. lie kept on 
 the left-hand side, and walked up Fourth Avenue, 
 passing the Cooper Institute and the Bible House, 
 and, a little farther on, Stewart s magnificent marble 
 store. On the block just above stood a book and 
 periodical store, kept, as the sign indicated, by 
 Richard Burnton. Phil paused a moment to look in 
 at the windows, which were filled with a variety of 
 attractive articles. Suddenly he was conscious of 
 his violin being forcibly snatched from under his 
 arm. lie turned quickly, and thought he recognized 
 Tim Hafferty, to whom the reader was introduced in 
 the third chapter of this story. 
 
122 rniL, THE FIDDLER; OR. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 PHIL FINDS A CAPITALIST. 
 
 To account for Phil s unexpected loss, I must 
 explain that Tim Raffert} r , whose ordinary place of 
 business was in or near the City Hall Park, had been 
 sent up-town on an errand. lie was making his way 
 back leisurely, when, just as he was passing Burnton s 
 bookstore, he noticed Phil looking in at the window. 
 He immediately recognized him as the little Italian 
 fiddler who had refused to lend him his fiddle, as de 
 scribed in a previous chapter. In this attempt he 
 was frustrated by Paul Hoffman. His defeat incensed 
 him, and he determined, if he ever met Phil again, 
 to " get even with him," as he expressed it. It 
 struck him that this was a good opportunity to bor 
 row his fiddle without leave. 
 
 When Phil discovered his loss, he started to run 
 after the thief. 
 
 " Give me back my fiddle," he cried. 
 
THE TOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 123 
 
 But this, Tim was in no hurry to do. As he had 
 longer legs than Phil, the chances were that he would 
 escape. But some distance ahead he saw one of the 
 blue-coated guardians of the public peace, or, in 
 newsboy parlance, a copp, and saw that Phil could 
 easily prove theft against him, as it would be im 
 possible to pass himself off as a fiddler. He must 
 get rid of the violin in some wa} T , and the sooner the 
 better. He threw it into the middle of the street, 
 just as a heavy cart was coming along. The wheels 
 of the ponderous vehicle passed over the frail instru 
 ment, crushing it utterly. Phil ran forward to rescue 
 his instrument, but too late. It was spoiled beyond 
 recovery. Phil picked up the pieces mechanically, 
 and took them back with him, but he soon realized 
 that he might as well cast them away again. Mean 
 while Tim, satisfied with the mischief he had done, 
 and, feeling revenged for his former mortification, 
 walked up a side street, and escaped interference. 
 
 Phil had come to one of those crises in human ex 
 perience when it is necessary to pause and decide 
 what to do nest. The fiddle was not a valuable one, 
 in fact, it was a shabby little instrument, but it 
 
124 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; OB, 
 
 was Phil s stock in trade. Moreover, it belonged to 
 the padrone, and however innocent Phil might be as 
 regarded its destruction, his tj rannical master was 
 snre to call him to heavy account for it. He was 
 certain to be severely punished, more so than the 
 evening before, and this was not a pleasant prospect 
 to look forward to. The padrone was sure not to 
 fonrive an offence like this. 
 
 Thinking over these things, a bold suggestion came 
 into Phil s mind. Wiy need he go lack at all ? 
 Why should he not take this occasion for breaking 
 his fetters, and starting out into life on his own ac 
 count ? There was nothing alarming in that prospect. 
 He was not afraid but that he could earn his own liv 
 ing, and fare better than he did at present, when out 
 of his earnings and those of his comrades the padrone 
 was growing rich. Other bo}-s had run away, and 
 though some had been brought back, others had man 
 aged to keep out of the clutches of their despotic 
 master. 
 
 It did not take Phil long to come to a decision. 
 He felt that he should never have a better chance. 
 He had three dollars in his pocket, thanks to the 
 
THE TOUNO STREET MUSICIAN. 125 
 
 generosity of the sailors, and this would last him 
 some time. It would enable him to get out of the 
 city, which would be absolutely necessary, since, if 
 ho remained, the padrone would send Pictro for him, 
 and get him back. 
 
 There was only one regret he had at leaving the 
 padrone. It would part him from his little comrade, 
 Giacomo. Giacomo, at least, would miss him. lie 
 wished the little boy could have gone with him, but 
 this, under present circumstances, was impossible. 
 By staying he would only incur a severe punishment, 
 without being able to help his comrade. 
 
 It was still but nine o clock. lie had plenty of 
 time before him, as he would not be missed by the 
 padrone until he failed to make his appearance at 
 night. Having no further occasion to go up-town, he 
 decided to turn and walk down into the business 
 portion of the city. He accordingly made his way 
 leisurely to the City Hall Park, when he suddenly be 
 thought himself of Paul Hoffman, who had served as 
 hie friend on a former occasion. Besides Giacomo, 
 Paul was the only friend on whom he could rely in 
 the city. Paul was older and had more experience 
 
126 pzr/L, THE FIDDLER; a/?, 
 
 than be, and could no doubt give him good advice 
 as to his future plans. 
 
 He crossed the Park and Broadway, and kept 
 along on the west side of the street until he reached 
 the neck-tie stand kept by Paul. The young street- 
 merchant did not at first see him, being cccupied 
 with a customer, to whom he finally succeeded in sell 
 ing two neck-ties ; then looking up he recognized 
 the young fiddler. 
 
 "How are you, Phil?" he said, in a friendly 
 manner. " Where have you kept yourself? I have 
 not seen you for a long time." 
 
 " I have been fiddling," said Phil. 
 
 u But I don t see your violin now. What has be 
 come of it?" 
 
 " It is broken destroyed," said Phil. 
 
 " How did that happen?" 
 
 Phil described the manner in which his violin had 
 been stolen. 
 
 " Do you know who stole it? " 
 
 " It was that boy who tried to take it once in the 
 Park." 
 
 " When I stopped him? " 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN". 127 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " I know him. It is Tiin Raflerty. He is a mean 
 
 f<r 
 boy ; I will pay him up for it." 
 
 " I do not care for it now," said Phil. 
 
 "Bit what will 3 r our padrone say when you come 
 home without it?" 
 
 " He would beat me ; but I will not go home." 
 
 " What will you. do ? " 
 
 " I will run away." 
 
 " Good for you, Phil ! I like your spunk," said 
 Paul, heartily. " I wouldn t go back to the old 
 villain, if I were you. Where are you going?" 
 
 " Away from New York. If I stay here the padrone 
 would catch me." 
 
 " How much did you earn with your fiddle, when 
 you had it ? " 
 
 " Two dollars, if it was a good day." 
 
 " That is excellent. I ll tell you what, Phil, if you 
 could stay in the city, I would invite you to come and 
 live with us. You could pay your share of the 
 expense, say, three or four dollars a week, and keep 
 the rest of your monoy to buy clothes, and to save." 
 
128 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; on, 
 
 " I should like it," said Phil ; but if I stay in 
 the city, the padrone would get hold of me." 
 
 " Has he any legal right to your services?" asked 
 Paul. 
 
 Phil looked puzzled. He did not understand the 
 question. 
 
 " I mean, did your father sign any paper, giving 
 you to him?" 
 
 " Yes," said Phil, comprehending now. 
 
 "Then I suppose he could take you back. You 
 think you must go away from the city then, Phil?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Where do you think of going? " 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 "You might go into Jersey, to Newark, which ia 
 quite a largo city, only ten miles from here." 
 
 " I should like to go there." 
 
 " I don t think the padrone would send there to find 
 you. But how are you going to make your living; 
 jou have lost your fiddle? " 
 
 " I can sing." 
 
 " But you would make more monoy with your 
 fiddle." 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 129 
 
 " Si, signore." 
 
 " Don t talk to mo in Italian, Phil, I no understand 
 it." 
 
 Phil laughed. 
 
 u You can speak English much better than most 
 Italian boys." 
 
 " Some cannot speak at all. Some speak French, 
 because we all stayed in Paris some time before we 
 came to America." 
 
 41 Parlez-vous Franeais? " 
 
 " Oui, monsieur, un peu." 
 
 44 Well, I can t. Those three words are all the 
 French I know. But, I say, Phil, } T OU ought to have a 
 fiddle." 
 
 44 1 should like to have one. I should make more 
 money." 
 
 " How much would one cost? 
 
 44 1 don t know." 
 
 44 I ll tell you what I will do, Phil," said Paul, after 
 a moment s thought. " I know a pawnbroker s shop 
 on Chatham Street, where there is a fiddle for sale. I 
 don t think it will cost very much ; not more than five 
 dollars. You must buy it." 
 
130 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; ox, 
 
 I have not five dollars," said Phil. 
 
 " Then I will lend you the money. You shall buy 
 it, and when you have earned money enough, you 
 shall come back to New York some day, and pay me." 
 
 " Thank you," said Phil, gratefully. " I will surely 
 pay yon." 
 
 " Of course you will, Phil," said Paul, confidently. 
 
 " I can see by your face that you are honest. I 
 don t believe you would cheat your friend." 
 
 " I would not cheat you, Signor Paul." 
 
 " I see, Phil, you are bound to make an Italian of 
 me. You may just call me Paul, and don t mind_about 
 the signor. Now I ll tell you what I propose. I 
 cannot leave my business for an hour and a half. You 
 can go where you please, but come back at that time, 
 and I will take you home to dinner with me. On the 
 way back, I will stop with you at the Chatham Street 
 store, and ask the price of the violin ; then, if it 
 doesn t cost too much, I will buy it." 
 
 " All right," said Phil. 
 
 " You must come back at twelve o clock, Phil." 
 
 " I will come." 
 
 Phil strolled down to the Battery, feeling a litti* 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 131 
 
 strange without his violin. He was elated with the 
 thought of his coming freedom, and for the first time 
 since he landed in America the future looked bright 
 to him. 
 
132 pniL) THE FIDDLER; 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 LUCIA, THE TA3IBOURINE GIRL. 
 
 ARRIVING at Trinity Church Phil turned into Wall 
 Street, looking about him in a desultory way, for he 
 was at present out of business. Men and bo}~s were 
 hurrying by, in different directions, to and from banks 
 and insurance offices, while here and there a lawyer 
 or lawyer s clerk might be seen looking no less busy 
 and preoccupied. If Phil had had three thousand 
 dollars instead of three, he, too, might have been in 
 terested in the price of gold and stocks ; but his 
 financial education had been neglected, and he could 
 not have guessed within twenty the day s quotations 
 for either. 
 
 As he walked along, his attention was suddenly 
 drawn to a pair of Italians, a man and a girl of 
 twelve, the former turning a hand-organ, the latter 
 playing on a tambourine. There was nothing un 
 usual in the group ; but Phil s heart beat quick, for 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN". 133 
 
 in the girl he thought he recognized a playmate from 
 the same village in which he was born and bred. 
 
 u Lucia ! " he called, eagerly, approaching the 
 pair. 
 
 The girl turned quickl} , and, seeing the young 
 fiddler, let fall her tambourine in surprise. 
 
 " Filippo ! " she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up 
 with the joy with which we greet a friend s face in a 
 strange land. 
 
 " Why did you drop your tambourine, scellcrata?" 
 demanded the man, harshly. 
 
 Lucia, a pretty brown-faced girl, did not lose her 
 joyful looks even at this rebuke. She stooped and 
 picked up the tambourine, and began to play me- 
 chamcall3 r , but continued to speak to Filippo. 
 
 "How long are you in the city?" asked Phil, 
 speaking, of course, in his native language. 
 
 " Only two weeks," answered Lucia. " I am so 
 glad to see you, Filippo." 
 
 " When did you come from Italy?" 
 
 " I cannot tell. I think it is about two months." 
 
 " And did you see my mother before you came 
 away ? " asked Phil, eagerly. 
 
134 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 " Yes, Filippo, I saw her. She told me if I saw 
 you, to say that she longed for her dear boy to 
 return ; that she thought of him day and night." 
 
 " Did she say that, Lucia? " 
 
 " Yes, Filippo." 
 
 " And is my mother well?" asked Phil, anxiously, 
 for he had a strong love for his mother. 
 
 u She is well, Filippo, she is not sick, but she is 
 thin, and she looks sad." 
 
 " I will go and see her some day/ said Phil. " I 
 wish I could see her now." 
 
 "When will you go?" 
 
 " I don t know ; when I am older." 
 
 "But where is your fiddle, Filippo?" asked 
 Lucia. "Do you not play?" 
 
 Filippo glanced at the organ-grinder, whom he did 
 not dare to take into his confidence. So he an 
 swered, evasively : 
 
 "Another boy took it. I shall get another this 
 afternoon." 
 
 " Are you with the padrone? " 
 
 41 Yes." 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 135 
 
 " Come, Lucia," said the man, roughly, ceasing to 
 play, " we must go on." 
 
 Lucia followed her companion obediently, reluctant 
 to leave Phil, with whom she desired to converse 
 longer ; but the latter saw that her guardian did not 
 wish the conversation to continue, and so did not 
 follow. 
 
 His unexpected meeting with Lucia gave him much 
 to think of. It carried back his thoughts to his 
 humble, but still dear Italian home, and the mother 
 from whom he had never met with anything but kind 
 ness, and a longing to see both made him for the 
 moment almost sad. But he was naturally of a joyous 
 temperament, and hope soon returned. 
 
 " I will save money enough to go home," he said to 
 himself. " It will not take very much, not more than 
 fifty dollars. I can get it soon if I do not have to 
 pay money to the padrone." 
 
 As may be inferred, Phil did not expect to return 
 home in st} T le. A first-class ticket on a Cunarder was 
 far above his expectation. He would be content to go 
 by steerage all the way, and that could probably be 
 
136 p/7/z, 777V? FIDDLER; 07?, 
 
 done for the sura be named. So his sadness was but 
 brief, and he soon became hopeful again. 
 
 lie was aroused from his thoughts of home by a 
 Land laid familiarly on his shoulder. Turning, he 
 saw a boot-black, whose adventures have been chron 
 icled in the volume called " Ragged Dick." They had 
 become acquainted some three months before, Dick 
 having acted as protector to Phil against some rough 
 boys of his own class. 
 
 "Been buyin stocks?" asked Dick. 
 
 " I don t know what they are," said Phil, innocently. 
 
 " You re a green one," said Dick. " I shall have 
 to take you into my bankin -house, and give j ou some 
 training in business." 
 
 "Have you got a bankin -house?" asked Phil, in 
 surprise. 
 
 "In course I have. Don t you see it?" pointing 
 to an imposing-looking structure in front of which 
 they were just pcosing. " My clerks is all hard to 
 work in there, while I go out to take the air for the 
 benefit of my constitushun." 
 
 Phil looked puzzled, not quite understanding Dick s 
 chaffing, and looked rather inquiringly at the blacking- 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 137 
 
 box, finding it a little difficult to understand why a 
 banker on so large a scale should be blacking boots 
 in the street. 
 
 " Shine yer boots, sir?" said Dick to a gentleman 
 jv.st passing. 
 
 " Not now ; I m in a hurry." 
 
 " Blackin boots is good exercise," continued Dick, 
 answering the doubt in Phil s face. " I do it for the 
 benefit of my health, thus combinin profit with 
 ealubriousness." 
 
 " I can t understand such long words," said Phil. 
 " I don t know much English." 
 
 * I would talk to you in Italian," said Dick, " only 
 it makes my head ache. What s come of your fiddle ? 
 You haven t sold it, and bought Erie shares, have 
 you?" 
 
 " A boy stole it from me, and broke it." 
 
 " I d like to lick him. Who was it ? " 
 
 " I think his name was Tim Rafferty." 
 
 " I know him," said Dick. " I ll give him a lickin 
 next time I see him." 
 
 " Can you? " asked Phil, doubtfully, for his enemy, 
 was as large as Dick. 
 
138 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; o/?, 
 
 44 In course I can. My fists are like sledge-ham 
 mers. Jest feel my muscle." 
 
 Dick straightened out his arm, and Phil felt of the 
 muscle, which was hard and firm. 
 
 " It s as tough as a ten-year-old chicken," said Dick. 
 " It won t be healthy for Tim to come round my way. 
 What made him steal }*our fiddle ? He aint goin into 
 thQ musical line, is he ? " 
 
 " lie was angry, because I didn t want to lend 
 it to him." 
 
 Just then Tim Rafferty himself turned the cor net 
 There was a lull in his business, and he was wander 
 ing along the street, eating an apple. 
 
 " There he is," said Phil, suddenly espying his 
 enemy. 
 
 Dick looked up, and saw with satisfaction that Phil 
 was right. Tim had not yet espied either, nor did 
 he till Dick addressed him. 
 
 " Are you round collectin fiddles this mornin ?" 
 he asked. 
 
 Tim looked up, and seeing that his victim had 
 found an able champion, felt anxious to withdraw. 
 
THE TOUXG STREET MUSICIAN. 139 
 
 He was about to turn back, but Dick advanced with 
 * determined air. 
 
 " Jest stop a minute, Tim Rafferty," said he. 
 " I m a-goin to intervoo you for the Herald. That s 
 vfhat they do with all the big rascals nowadays." 
 
 " I m in a hurry," said Tim. 
 
 " That s what the pickpocket said when the copp 
 was gently persuadin him to go to the Tombs, but 
 the copp didn t see it. I want the pleasure of your 
 society a minute or two. I hear you re in the music 
 business." 
 
 " No, I m not," said Tim, shortly. 
 
 " What made you borrer this boy s fiddle then?-" 
 
 " I don t know anything about it," said Tim. 
 
 " Some folks forgets easy," returned Dick. " I 
 know d a man what went into Tiffany s and took up 
 a watch to look at it, and carried it off, forgettin to 
 pay for it. That s what he told the judge the next 
 clay, and the judge sent him to the Island for a few 
 months to improve his memory. The air over to the 
 Island is very good to improve the memory." 
 
 " You ought to know," said Tim, sullenly ; " youVe 
 been there times enough." 
 
140 p/z/z, THE FIDDLER; o/z, 
 
 " Have I?" said Dick. "Maybe you saw me there, 
 Was it the ninth time } T OU was there, or the tenth? " 
 
 " I never was there," said Tim. 
 
 "Maybe it was your twin brother," suggested 
 Dick. "What made you break my friend s fiddle? 
 He wouldn t have minded it so much, only it be 
 longed to his grandfather, a noble count, who made* 
 boots for a livin ." 
 
 " I don t believe he had a fiddle," said Tim. 
 
 " That s where your forgetfulness comes in," said 
 Dick. " Have you forgot the lickin* I gave you last 
 summer for stealin my blackin -box ? " 
 
 " You didn t lick me," said Tim. 
 
 " Then I ll lick you harder next time," said Dick. 
 
 " You aint able," said Tim, who, glancing over 
 his shoulder, saw the approach of a policeman, and 
 felt secure. 
 
 " I will be soon," said Dick, who also observed the 
 approach of the policeman. " I d do it now, only I ve 
 got to buy some gold for a friend of mine. Just let me 
 know when it s perfectly convenient to take a lickin ." 
 
 Tim shuffled off, glad to get away unharmed, and 
 Dick turned to PbU. 
 
THE TOUXG STREET MUSICIAN. 141 
 
 " I ll give him a lickin the first time I oatch him, 
 when there isn t no copp around," he said. 
 
 Phil left his friend at this point, for he saw by the 
 clock on Trinity spire that it was time to go tack to 
 join Paul Hoffman, as he had agreed. I may here 
 add, that Phil s wrongs were avenged that same cvcn- 
 ing, his friend Dick administering to Tim the 
 promised "lickin " with such good effect that tiie 
 latter carried a black eye for a week afterwards 
 
142 PHIL S THE FIDDLER; 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 PHIL S NEW PLANS. 
 
 As the clock struck twelve, Phil reached the neck 
 tie stand of his friend, Paul Hoffman. 
 
 " Just in time," said Paul. " Are you hungry ? " 
 
 " A little." 
 
 " That s right. You re going to dine with me, and 
 I want you to bring a good appetite with you." 
 
 "What will your mother say?" asked Phil, doubt 
 fully. 
 
 " Wait and see. If you don t like what she says 
 you can go off without eating. Where have yo*- 
 been?" 
 
 " I went down to Wall Street." 
 
 " On business ? " inquired Paul, with a smile. 
 
 " No," said Phil, seriously. " I saw Lucia." 
 
 "Who is she?" 
 
 " I forgot. You don t know Lucia. She lived in 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 143 
 
 my home in Italy, and I used to play with her. She 
 told me of my mother. 
 
 " That s lucky, Phil. I hope your mother is well." 
 
 " She is not sick, but she is thin. She thinks of 
 mo," said Phil. 
 
 " Of course she does. You will go home and see her 
 some day." 
 
 44 1 hope so." 
 
 " Of course you will," said Paul, confidently 
 
 " I saw the boy who stole my fiddle," continued 
 Phil. 
 
 " Tim Rafferty?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "What did he say?" 
 
 "1 was with a boot-black, the one they call 
 Ragged Dick/ Do you know him ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I know Dick. He is a bully fellow, always 
 joking." 
 
 " Dick wanted to lick him, but a policeman came, 
 and he went away." 
 
 " Does Dick know that he stole your fiddle?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
144 PHIL, THE FIDDLE R / O7Z, 
 
 " Then he will be sure to punish him. It will save 
 me the trouble." 
 
 The walk was not long. Soon they were at Paul s 
 door. 
 
 "I have brought company to dinner, mother," said 
 Paul, entering first. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, Phil," said Mrs. Hoffman. 
 " "Why have you not come before ? " 
 
 "How is that, Phil? Will you stay now?" said 
 Paul. 
 
 Mrs. Hoffman looked at Paul inquiringly. 
 
 " Phil was afraid he would not be welcome," he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " He is always welcome," said Mrs. Hoffman. 
 
 " Where is your fiddle ? " asked Jimmy. 
 
 " A boy took it," said Phil, " and threw it into the 
 street, and a wagon went over it and broke it." 
 
 Jimmy was quite indignant for his friend, when the 
 etory had been told. 
 
 " It s lucky for Tim Rafferty that he is not here," 
 said Paul, " or he might suffer." 
 
 u lf I was a big boy I d lick him," said Jimmy, 
 belligerently. 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 145 
 
 " I never saw you so warlike before, Jimmy," said 
 Paul. 
 
 To Phil this sympathy seemed pleasant. He *elt 
 that he was in the midst of friends, and friends were 
 not so plentiful as not to be valued. 
 
 " What are 3 7 ou going to have for dinner, mother?" 
 asked Paul. 
 
 " I am sorry, Paul, that I have no warm meat. I 
 have some cold roast beef, some hot potatoes, and an 
 apple pudding." 
 
 "You needn t apologize, mother. That s good 
 enough for anybody. It s as good as Paul gets at 
 his boarding-house, I am sure. lie has got rather 
 tired of it, and isn t going to stay." 
 
 "Are you going to leave the padrone?" asked 
 Mrs. Hoffman, with interest. 
 
 " Si, signora," said Phil. 
 
 "Will he let you go?" 
 
 " I shall run away," said Phil. 
 
 " You see, mother, Phil would be sure of a beating 
 if he went home without his fiddle. Now he doesn t 
 like to be beaten, and the padrone gives harder beat 
 ings than you do, mother." 
 
146 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 " I presume so," said Mrs. Hoffman, smiling, 
 " I do not think I am very severe." 
 
 " No, you spoil the rod and spare the child." 
 
 " Is Phil going to stay in the city? " 
 
 " No ; the padrone would get hold of him if he did, 
 He is going to New Jersey to make his fortune." 
 
 " But he will need a fiddle." 
 
 " I am going to lend him money enough to buy 
 one. I know a pawnbroker who has one for sale. I 
 think I can get it for three or four dollars. When Phil 
 gets it, he is going round giving concerts. How 
 much can you make in a day, Phil ? " 
 
 " Sometimes I make two dollars," answered Phil. 
 
 " That is excellent, especially when yon are your 
 own padrone. You will be able to save up money. 
 You will have to buy a pocket-book, Phil." 
 
 "Where will you sleep, Phil?" asked Jimmy, in 
 terested. 
 
 Phil shrugged his shoulders. He had not thought 
 of that question particularly. 
 
 " I do not know," he said. " I can sleep any 
 where." 
 
 "Of course he will stop at the first-class hotels, 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 147 
 
 Jimmy," said Paul, " like all gentlemen of dis 
 tinction. I shouldn t wonder if he manned an heir 
 ess in six months, and went back to Italy on a bridal 
 tour." 
 
 " He is too young to be married," said Jimmy, 
 who, it will be perceived, understood everything 
 literally. 
 
 " I don t know but he is," said Paul, u but he isn t 
 too old to be hungry. So, mother, whenever dinner 
 is ready, we shall be." 
 
 " It is all ready except peeling the potatoes, Paul." 
 
 " We can do that ourselves. It is good exercise, 
 and will sharpen our appetites. You will have to 
 eat fast, or there won t be much left. Jimmy is the 
 most tremendous eater I ever saw, and won t leave 
 much for the rest of us, if we give him the chance." 
 
 " Now, Paul," expostulated Jimnn , feeling 
 aggrieved at this charge, " you know I don t eat 
 as much as you do." 
 
 "Hear him talk, Phil. I don t eat more than 
 enough to keep a fly alive." 
 
 " It must be a pretty large fly, Paul," said Jimmy, 
 ulyly. 
 
148 PHIL, THE FIDDLES; OR, 
 
 "Good joke, Jimmy. Mother, you must give 
 Jimmy twelve potatoes to-day instead of the ten he 
 usually eats." 
 
 u O Paul, how can you tell such stories ? " ex 
 claimed Jimmy, shocked at such an extravagant 
 assertion. Phil laughed, for there was something 
 ludicrous in the idea of Jimmy, who was a slight boy 
 of seven, making way with such large quantities, and 
 the little boy began to see that it was only a joke at 
 his expense. 
 
 The dinner went off well. All had a good appetite, 
 and did full justice to Mrs. Hoffman s cookery. The 
 pudding in particular was pronounced a success. It 
 was so flaky and well-seasoned, and the sauce, 
 flavored with lemon, was so good, that every one 
 except Mrs. Hoffman took a second piece. For the 
 first time since he had left Italy. Phil felt the un 
 comfortable sensation of having eaten too much. 
 However, with the discomfort was the pleasant rec 
 ollection of a good dinner, and to the mind of the 
 little fiddler the future brightened, as it is very apt 
 to do under such circumstances, and he felt ready to 
 go out and achieve his fortune. 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 149 
 
 44 Why won t 3 r ou stop with us to-night, Phil, and 
 start on your journey to-morrow ? " asked Mrs. IIofT 
 man. " I am sure Jimmy would be glad of 3 oui 
 company." 
 
 " Yes, Phil, stay," said Paul. 
 
 Phil hesitated. It was a tempting invitation, but, 
 on the other hand, if he remained in the city till the 
 next day he might be in danger from the padrone. 
 
 lie expressed this fear. 
 
 " I am afraid the padrone would catch me," he 
 said. 
 
 " No, he won t. You can go out with me and buy 
 the fiddle now, and then come back and play to 
 mother and Jimmy. To-morrow morning I will_go 
 .with you to the Jersey City Ferry myself, and if we 
 meet the padrone, I ll give him a hint to be off." 
 
 Phil still hesitated, but finally yielded to the united 
 request. But it was now one o clock, and Paul must 
 be back to his business. Phil took his cap and went 
 with him to purchase the fiddle, promising to come 
 back directly. 
 
 They went into Chatham Street, and soon halted 
 
150 p/7/z, THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 before a small shop, in front of which were three gilt 
 balls, indicating that it was a pawnbroker s shop. 
 
 Entering they found themselves in a small apart 
 ment, about twelve feet front by twenty in depth, 
 completely filled with pawnable articles in great va 
 riety, a large part, however, consisting of clothing ; 
 for when the poor have occasion to raise money at a 
 pawnbroker s, they generally find little in their pos 
 session to pawn except their clothing. Here was a 
 shawl, pawned for a few shillings, by a poor woman 
 whose intemperate husband threw the burden of 
 supporting two young children upon her. Next to it 
 was a black coat belonging to a clerk, who had been 
 out of employment for three months, and now was out 
 of money also. Here was a child s dress, pawned by 
 the mother in dire necessity to save the child from 
 starving. There was a plain gold ring, snatched by a 
 drunken husband from the finger of his poor wife, not 
 to buy food, but to gratify his insatiable craving for 
 drink. 
 
 Over this scene of confusion presided a little old 
 man with blear eyes and wrinkled face, but with a 
 sharp glance, fully alive to his own interests. lie was 
 
THE YOUSO STREET MUSICIAN. 151 
 
 an Englishman born, but he had been forty years in 
 America. He will be remembered by those who 
 
 have read "Paul, the Peddler." Though nearly as 
 poverty-stricken in appearance as his poorest custom 
 ers, the old man was rich, if reports were true. His 
 business was a very profitable one, allowing the most 
 exorbitant rates of interest, and, being a miser, he 
 spent almost nothing on himself, so that his hoards 
 had increased to a considerable amount. 
 
 He looked up sharply, as Paul and Phil entered, and 
 scanned them closely with his ferret-like eyes. 
 
152 P///Z, THE FIDDLER; OR* 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 MRS. HOFFMAN S FASHIONABLE PARTY 
 
 HENDERSON, for this was the pawnbroker s 
 name, did not remember Paul, though on one occasion 
 our hero had called upon him. Nearly all his cus 
 tomers came to pawn articles, not to purchase, and 
 Eliakim naturally supposed that the two boys had 
 come on this errand. Before entering, Paul said to 
 Phil, " Don t say anything ; leave me to manage." 
 
 As they entered, Phil espied a fiddle hanging up 
 behind the counter, and he saw at a glance that it 
 was better than the one he had been accustomed to 
 play upon. But, to his surprise, Paul did not refer 
 to it at first. 
 
 "What will you give me on this coat?" asked 
 Paul, indicating the one he had on. 
 
 He had no intention of selling it, but preferred to 
 come to the fiddle gradually, that the pawnbroker 
 
THE YOUXO STREET MUSICIAN. 153 
 
 might not think that was his main object, and so 
 charge an extra price. 
 
 Eliakim scanned the garment critically. It was 
 nearly new and in excellent condition, and he coveted 
 it. 
 
 " I will give 3 r ou a dollar," said he, naming a price 
 low enough to advance upon. 
 
 " That is too little," said Paul, shaking his head 
 
 " I might give you fifty cents more, but I should 
 lose if you didn t redeem it." 
 
 " I don t think you would. I paid ten dollars foi 
 it." 
 
 " But it is old." 
 
 " No, it isn t ; I have only had it a few weeks." 
 
 u How much do 3-011 want on it?" asked Eliakim, 
 scanning Paul sharply, to see how much he seemed in 
 want of money. 
 
 I don t want any to-day. If I should want some 
 next week, I will come in." 
 
 " It will be older next week," said Eliakim, not 
 wanting to lose the bargain, for he hoped it would not 
 be redeemed. 
 
 "Never mind ; I can get along till then." 
 
154 rniL, THE FIDDLER; o/?, 
 
 " Can I do no business with you this morning?" 
 asked Eliakim, disappointed. 
 
 "I don t know," said Paul, looking carelessly 
 around. u My friend, here, would like a fiddle, if he 
 can get one cheap. What do you ask for that one up 
 there?" 
 
 Eliakim took down the fiddle with alacrity. Ho 
 had had it on hand for a year without securing a cus 
 tomer. It had originally been pawned by a poor 
 musician, for a dollar and a quarter, but the unfortu 
 nate owner had never been able to redeem it. Among 
 his customers, the pawnbroker had not found one suf 
 ficiently musical to take it off his hands. Here was 
 a slight chance, and he determined to effect a sale if 
 he could. 
 
 " It is a splendid instrument," he said, enthusiasti 
 cally, brushing off the dust with a dirty cotton hand 
 kerchief. " I have had many chances to sell it." 
 
 " Why didn t you sell it, then?" demanded Paul, 
 who did not believe a word of this. 
 
 " Because it was only pawned. I kept it for the 
 owner." 
 
 * f Oh, well, if you can t sell it no matter." 
 
THE YOUXG STREET MUSICIAN. 155 
 
 " It is for sale now," said Eliakim, quickty. " He 
 has not come for it, and I shall keep it no longer. 
 Just try it. See what a sp-1-endid instrument it is ! " 
 said the pawnbroker, dwelling on the adjective to give 
 emphasis to it. 
 
 Paul tried it, but not knowing how to play, of 
 course created only discord. He did not offer it to 
 Phil, because the young Italian boy would have 
 made it sound too well, and so enhanced the price. 
 
 " It don t sound very well," said he, indifferently ; 
 " but I suppose it will do to learn on. What do you 
 want for it?" 
 
 " Five dollars," said Eliakim, studying the face of 
 Paul, to observe the effect of his announcement. 
 
 " Five dollars ! " repeated Paul. " Take it back, 
 then, and wait till A. T. Stewart wants one. I haven t 
 got five dollars to throw away." 
 
 But the pawnbroker did not expect to get his first 
 price. He named it, in order to have a chance to fall. 
 
 " Stay," he said, as Paul made a motion to leave ; 
 4 what will you give me ? " 
 
 4i I ll give you a dollar and a half," said Paul, turn 
 ing back. 
 
156 p/z/L, THE FIDDLER; OTJ. 
 
 * A dollar and a half! " exclaimed Eliakim, holding 
 np both hands in horror. " Do you want :o ruia 
 me?" 
 
 " No, I think you want to ruin me. I am willirg 
 to pay a fair price." 
 
 " You may have it for three dollars and a half. * 
 
 " No doubt you d be glad to get that. Come, 
 Phil, we ll go." 
 
 " Stay ; you may have it for three dollars, though 7 
 shall lose by it." 
 
 " So should I, if I paid you that price. I can wait 
 till some other time." 
 
 But Eliakim did not intend to let this chance slip 
 He had found the fiddle rather unsalable, and feared 
 if he lost this chance of disposing of it, it might ro 
 main on his hands for a year more. lie was willing 
 therefore, to take less than the profit he usually calcu 
 lated upon in the sale of articles which remained un 
 redeemed. 
 
 "You may have it for two dollars and and a half/ 
 be said. 
 
 As far as Paul could judge, though he did not 
 know much about the price of violins, this was a 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 157 
 
 fcasonable price. But he knew that Eliakim must 
 nave got it for considerably less, or he would not so 
 soon have come down to this sum. lie did not hesi 
 tate, therefore, to try to get it a little cheaper. 
 
 " I ll give you two dollars and a quarter," he said, 
 " and not a penny more." 
 
 Eliakim tiled hard to get ten cents more, but Paul 
 saw that he was sure of his purchase, and remained 
 obdurate. So, after a pretence of putting up the 
 fiddle, the pawnbroker finally said, " You may have 
 it, but I shall lose money." 
 
 " All right," said Paul ; " hand it over." 
 
 "Where is the money?" asked Eliakim, cau 
 tiously. 
 
 Paul drew from his pocket a two- dollar bill and 
 twenty-five cents in currency, and received the fiddle. 
 The pawnbroker scrutinized the money closely, fear 
 ing that it might be bad ; but finally, making up his 
 mind on that point, deposited it in his money-drawer. 
 
 " "Well, Phil, we may as well go," said Paul. 
 " We ve got through our business." 
 
 The pawnbroker heard this, and a sudden suspicion 
 
158 PHIL, TUB FIDDLER; 0/2, 
 
 entered his mind that Paul had been too sharp for 
 him. 
 
 " I might have got twenty-five cents more," he 
 thought, regretfully ; and this thought disturbed the 
 complacency he felt at first. 
 
 " Well, Phil, how do you like it?" asked Paul, as 
 they emerged into the street. 
 
 " Let me try it," said Phil, eagerly. 
 
 lie struck up a tune, which he played through, his 
 face expressing the satisfaction he felt. 
 
 ** Is it as good as your old one ? " 
 
 " It is much better," said Phil. " I will pay you 
 for it ;" and he drew out the money the sailors had 
 given him in the morning. 
 
 " No, Phil," said his friend, " you may need that 
 money. Keep it, and pay me when you have more." 
 
 " But I shall be away." 
 
 " You will come to the city some day. When you 
 do you will know where to find me. Now go and 
 play a tune to Jimmy. He is waiting for you. If 
 you remain in the streets, your old enemy, Tim Kaf 
 ferty, may want to borrow you r fiddle again." 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 159 
 
 "You are very kind to me, Paolo," said Phil, rais 
 ing his dark eyes with a sudden impulse of gratitude. 
 
 " It s nothing, Phil," said Paul, modestly ; " you 
 would do the same for me if I needed it." 
 
 " Yes, I would," said Phil ; " but I am poor, and I 
 cannot help you." 
 
 " You won t be poor always, Phil," said Paul, 
 cheerfully, "nor I either, I hope. I mean to be a 
 merchant some time on a bigger scale than now. As 
 for you, you will be a great player, and give concerts 
 at the Academy of Music." 
 
 Phil laughed, but seemed pleased at the prophecy. 
 
 " Well, Phil, I must bid you good-by for a little 
 while, or my clerks will be cheating me. I will see 
 you at supper." 
 
 " Addio, Paolo," said Phil. 
 
 "Addio," said Paul, laughing. "Wouldn t I 
 make a good Italian ? " 
 
 Paul returned to his stand, and Phil took the direc 
 tion of Mrs. Hoffman s rooms. While on his way 
 he heard the sound of a hand-organ, and, looking 
 across the way, saw, with some uneasiness, his old 
 enemy Pictro, playing to a crowd of boys. 
 
160 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; o/?, 
 
 " I hope he won t see me," said Phil to himself. 
 
 He was afraid Pietro would remember his old 
 violin, and, seeing the difference in the instrument he 
 now had, inquire how he got it. He might, if not 
 satisfied on this point, take Phil home with him, 
 which would be fatal to his plans. He thought it 
 prudent, therefore, to turn down the next street, and 
 get out of sight as soon as possible. Fortunately 
 for him Pietro had his back turned so that he did not 
 observe him. Nothing would have pleased him 
 better than to get the little fiddler into trouble, for, 
 besides being naturally malicious, he felt that an ex 
 hibition of zeal in his master s service would entitle 
 him to additional favors at the hands of the padrone, 
 whom he hoped some day to succeed. 
 
 " Oh, what a beautiful fiddle ! " said Jimmy, in 
 admiration, as Phil reappeared. " Do you think 1 
 could play on it ? " 
 
 Phil shook his head, smiling. 
 
 " Don t let Jimmy have it. He would only spoil 
 it," said Mrs. Hoffman. " I don t think he would 
 succeed as well in music as in drawing." 
 
 " Will you play something? " asked Jimmy 
 
THE TOHXG STREET MUSICIAN. 161 
 
 Phil willingly complied, and for half an hour held 
 Jimmy entranced with his playing. The little boy 
 then undertook to teach Phil how to draw, but at this 
 Phil probably cut as poor a figure as his instructor 
 would have done at playing on the violin. 
 
 So the afternoon wore away, happily for all three, 
 and at five Paul made his appearance. When supper 
 was over Phil played again, and this attracting the 
 attention of the neighbors, Mrs. Hoffman s rooms 
 were gradually filled with visitors, who finally re 
 quested Phil to piny some dancing-tunes. Finding 
 him able to do so, an impromptu dance was got up, 
 and Mrs. Hoffman, considerably to her surprise, 
 found that she was giving a dancing-party. Paul, that 
 nothing might be left out, took a companion with him 
 and they soon reappeared with cake and ice-cream, 
 which were passed around amid great hilarity ; and it 
 was not until midnight that the last visitor went out, 
 and the sound of music and laughter was hushed. 
 
 " You are getting fashionable in your old age, 
 mother," said Paul, gayly. " I think I shall send an 
 account of your party to the Home Journal. " 
 
162 PZ7//,, THE FIDDLER; GJJ, 
 
 " I believe it is usual to describe the dresses of the 
 ladies," said Mrs. Hoffman, smiling. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I won t forget that. Just give me 
 a piece of paper and see how I will do it." 
 
 Paul, whose education I repeat here, was consider 
 ably above that of most boys in his position, sat 
 clown and hastily wrote the following description, 
 which was read to the great amusement of his audi 
 tors : 
 
 " Mrs. Hoffman, mother of the well-known artist, 
 Jimmy Hoffman, Esq., gave a fashionable party last 
 evening. Her spacious and elegant apartments were 
 crowded with finely dressed gentlemen and ladies 
 from the lower part of the city. Signor Filippo, the 
 great Italian musician, furnished the music. Mrs. 
 Hoffman appeared in a costly calico dress, and had a 
 valuable gold ring on one of her fingers. Her son, 
 the artist, was richly dressed in a gray suit, pur 
 chased a year since. Miss Bridget Flaherty, of Mott 
 Street, was the belle of the occasion, and danced 
 with such grace and energy that the floor came near 
 giving way beneath her fairy tread. (Miss Flaherty, 
 by the way, weighed one hundred and eighty 
 
THE YOUXG STREET MUSICIAN. 163 
 
 pounds.) Mr. Mike Donovan, newspaper merchant, 
 handed ronnd refreshments with his usual graceful 
 and elegant deportment. Miss Matilda Wiggins ap 
 peared in a magnificent print dress, imported from 
 Paris by A. T. Stewart, and costing a shilling a yard. 
 No gloves were worn, as they are now dispensed with 
 in the best society. At a late hour the guests dis 
 persed. Mrs. Hoffman s party will long be remem 
 bured as the most brilliant of the season." 
 
 " I did not know 3*011 had so much talen t for re 
 porting, Paul," said his mother. " You forgot one 
 thing, however. * 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "You said nothing of } T ourself." 
 
 " I was too modest, mother. However, if you in 
 sist upon it, I will do so." 
 
 Paul resumed his writing, and in a short time had 
 the following : 
 
 " Among those present we observed the handsome 
 and accomplished Paul Hoffman, Esq., the oldest son 
 of the hostess. He was elegantly dressed in a pepper- 
 an 1 salt coat and vest, blue neck-tie, and brown 
 breeches, and wore a six-cent diamond breast-pin in 
 
1G4 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 the bosom of his shirt. His fifteen-cent handkerchief 
 was perfumed with cologne which he imported him 
 self at a cost of ten cents per bottle. lie attracted 
 general admiration." 
 
 " You seem to have got over your modest3 r , Paul," 
 said his mother. 
 
 " I am sleepy," said Jimmy, rubbing his eyes. 
 
 As this expressed the general feeling, they retired 
 to bed at once, and in half an hour were wandering 
 in the land of dreams. 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN: 165 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE PADRONE IS ANXIOUS. 
 
 THE next morning Paul and Phil rose later than 
 usual. They slept longer, in order to make up for 
 the late hour at which they retired. As they sat 
 down to breakfast, at half-past eight, Paul said, "I 
 wonder whether the padrone misses you, Phil?" 
 
 " Yes," said Phil ; u he will be very angry because 
 I did not come back last night/ 
 
 " Will he think you have run away?" 
 
 u I do not know. Some of the boys stay away 
 sometimes, because they arc too far off to come 
 home." 
 
 " Then he may expect you to-night. I suppose 
 he will have a beating ready for you." 
 
 " Yes, lie would beat me very hard," said Phil, 
 "if he thought I did not mean to come back." 
 
 " I should like to go and tell IIUM thai; he need not 
 expect you. I should like to see i-.rw LP looks" 
 
166 P777L, THE FIDDLER; OX, 
 
 " lie might beat }*ou too, Paolo." 
 
 " I sliould like to see him try it," said Paul, 
 straightening np with a consciousness of strength. 
 "lie might find that rather hard." 
 
 Phil looked admiringly at the boy who was not 
 afraid of the padrone. Like his comrades, he had 
 been accustomed to think of the padrone as possessed 
 of unlimited power, and never dreamed of anybody 
 def3"ing him, or resisting his threats. Though he had 
 determined to run ziway, his soul was not free from 
 the tyranny of his late task-master, and he thought 
 with uneasiness and dread of the possibility of his 
 being conveyed back to him. 
 
 " Well, mother," said Paul, glancing at the clock 
 as he rose from the breakfast table, u it is almost 
 nine o clock, rather a late hour for a business man 
 like me." 
 
 " You are not often so late, Paul." 
 
 "It is lucky that I am my own employer, or I 
 might run the risk of being discharged. I am afraid 
 the excuse that I was at Mrs. Hoffman s fashionable 
 party would not be thought sufficient. I guess I won t 
 stop to shave this morning." 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 1C7 
 
 " You haven t got anything to sheave," said 
 Jimmy. 
 
 "Don t be envious, Jimmy. I counted several 
 Lairs this morning. "Well, Phil, arc you ready to go 
 with me? Don t forget your fiddle." 
 
 " When shall we see you again, Philip? " said Mrs. 
 Hoffman. 
 
 u I do not know," said the little minstrel. 
 
 tk Shall you not come to the city sometimes?" 
 
 " I am afraid the padrone would catch me," said 
 Phil. 
 
 " Whenever you do come, Phil," said Paul, " come 
 right to me. I will take care of you. I don t think 
 the padrone will carry us both off, and he would have 
 to take me if he took you." 
 
 " Good-by, Philip," said Mrs. Hoffman, offering 
 her hand. " I hope you will prosper." 
 
 " So do I, Phil," said Jimmy. 
 
 Phil thus took with him the farewells and good 
 wishes of two friends who had been drawn to him b} 
 his attractive face and good qualities. lie could not 
 help wishing that he might stay with them per 
 manently, but he knew that this could not be. To 
 
1C8 P/7/Z, THE FIDDLER; OT?, 
 
 remain in the same city with the padrone was out of 
 Che question. 
 
 Meanwhile we return to the house which Phil had 
 forsaken, and inquire what effect was produced by his 
 non-appearance. 
 
 It was the rule of the establishment that all the 
 boys should be back by midnight. Phil had gen 
 erally returned an hour before that time. "When, 
 therefore, it was near midnight, the padrone looked 
 uneasily at the clock. 
 
 "Have you seen Filippo?" he asked, addressing 
 his nephew. 
 
 " No, signore," answered Pictro. " Filippo has 
 not come in." 
 
 "Doj ou think he has run away?" asked the pa 
 drone, suspiciously. 
 
 " I don t know," said Pietro. 
 
 " Have you any reason to think he intended to run 
 away?" 
 
 " No," said Pietro. 
 
 " I should not like to lose him. He brings me 
 mote money than most of the boys." 
 
 " He may come in yet." 
 
T7TE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 1G9 
 
 "When he docs," said the padrone, frowning, "I 
 will beat him for being so late. Is there any boy 
 that lie would be likely to tell, if he meant to run 
 away?" 
 
 " Yes," said Pictro, with a sudden thought, " there 
 is Giacomo." 
 
 "The sick boy?" 
 
 " Yes. Filippo went in this morning to speak to 
 him. He might have told him then." 
 " That is truo. I will go and ask him." 
 Giacomo still lay upon his hard pallet, receiving 
 very little attention. His fever had increased, and 
 he was quite sick. He rolled from one side to the 
 other in his restlessness. He needed medical atten 
 tion, but the padrone was indifferent, and none of the 
 boys would have dared to call a doctor without his 
 permission. As he lay upon his bed, the padrone 
 entered the room with a hurried step. 
 
 " Where is Giacomo? " he demanded, harshly. 
 " Here I am, signore padrone," answered the little 
 boy, trembling, as he always did when addressed bv 
 the tyrant 
 
170 PJZ/Z, THE FIDDLER; 07?, 
 
 " Did Filippo come and speak with you this morn 
 ing, before he went out ? " 
 " Si, signore." 
 "What did he say?" 
 " He asked me how I felt." 
 "What did you tell him?" 
 " I told him I felt sick." 
 Nothing more?" 
 
 " I told him I thought I should die." 
 " Nonsense ! " said the padrone, harshly ; " you 
 are a coward. You have a little cold, that is all. 
 Did he say anything about running away ? " 
 " No, signore." 
 
 " Don t tell me a lie ! " said the tyrant, frowning. 
 " I tell you the truth, signore padrone. Has not 
 Filippo come home ? " 
 " No." 
 
 " I do not think he has run away," said the little 
 boy. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " I think he would tell me." 
 
 " So you two are friends, are you?" 
 
 "Si, signore; I love Filippo," answered Giacomo, 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 171 
 
 speaking the last words tenderly, and rather tc him 
 self than to the padrone. He looked up to Phil, 
 though little older than himself, with a mixture of 
 respect and devotion, leaning upon him as the weak 
 re prone to lean upon the strong. 
 
 "Then you will be glad to hear," said the padrone, 
 with a refinement of cruelty, " that I shall beat him 
 worse than last night for staying out so late." 
 
 "Don t beat him, padrone," pleaded Giacomo, 
 bursting into tears. "Perhaps he cannot com, 
 home." 
 
 "Did he ever speak to you of running away? 
 asked the padrone, with a sudden thought. 
 
 Giacomo hesitated. He could not truthfully deny 
 that Filippo had done so, but he did not want to get 
 his friend into trouble. He remained silent, looking 
 up at the tyrant with troubled eyes. 
 
 " Wiry do you not speak? Did you hear my ques 
 tion?" asked the padrone, with a threatening ges 
 ture. 
 
 Had the question been asked of some of the other 
 boys present, they would not have scrupled to 
 answer falsely; but Giacomo had a religious nature, 
 
172 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; OTJ, 
 
 and, neglected as lie had been, he could not make np 
 his mind to tell a falsehood. So, after a pause, ho 
 faltered out a confession that Phil had spoken of 
 flight. 
 
 u Do you hear that, Pietro?" said the padrone, 
 turning to his nephew. " The little wretch has 
 doubtless run away." 
 
 u Shall I look for him to-morrow?" asked Pietro, 
 with alacrity ; for to him it would be a congenial 
 task to drag Phil home, and witness his punishment. 
 
 "Yes, Pietro. I will tell you where to go in the 
 morning. TVe must have him back, and I will beat 
 him so that he will not dare to run away again." 
 
 The padrone would have been still more incensed, 
 could he have looked into Mrs. Iloffinan s room, 
 and seen the little fiddler the centre of a merry 
 group, his brown face radiant with smiles as he swept 
 the chords of his violin. It was well for Phil that 
 he could not see him 
 
THE VOUNG STREET MUSICIAN 1*3 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 PHIL ELUDES HIS PURSUER. 
 
 PHIL bad already made up his mind where to go. 
 Just across the river was New Jersey, with its flourish 
 ing towns and cities, settled to a large extent by men 
 doing business in New York. The largest of these 
 cities was Newark, only ten miles distant. There 
 Phil decided to make his first stop. If he found him 
 self in danger of capture he could easily go farther. 
 This plan Paul approved, and it was to be carried 
 into execution immediate^. 
 
 45 I will go down to the Cojirtlandt Street Ferry 
 with you, Phil," said Paul. 
 
 " I should like to have you, if it will not take you 
 from your business, Paolo." 
 
 4 My business can wait," said Paul. " I mean to 
 see you safe out of the city. The padrone may be in 
 search of you already." 
 
174 rniLj THE FIDDLER; off, 
 
 " I think he will send Pietro to find me," said 
 Phil. 
 
 "Who is Pietro?" 
 
 Phil explained that Pietro was the padrone s 
 nephew and assistant in oppressing the boys. 
 
 " I hope he will send him," said Paul. 
 
 Phil looked up in surprise. 
 
 " I should like to see this Pietro. What would he 
 do if he should find you ? " 
 
 " He would take me back." 
 
 If you did not want to go? " 
 
 " I couldn t help it," said Phil, shrugging his 
 shoulders. " lie is much bigger than I." 
 
 " Is he bigger than I am? " 
 
 " I think he is as big." 
 
 " lie isn t big enough to take you away if I am 
 with you." 
 
 Paul did not say this boast fulty, but with a quiet 
 confidence in his own powers, in which he was justi 
 fied. Though by no means quarrelsome, he had on 
 several occasions been forced in self-defence into a 
 contest with boys of his own size, and in some 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN 1 . 175 
 
 instances larger, and in every case he had acquitted 
 himself manfully, and come off victorious. 
 
 " I should not be afraid if you were with me, 
 Paolo," said Phil. 
 
 " You are right, Phil," said Paul, approvingly. 
 "But here we are at the ferry." 
 
 Courtlandt Street is a short distance below the 
 Astor House, and leads to a ferry, connecting on the 
 other side with trains bound for Philadelphia and 
 intermediate places. 
 
 Paul paid the regular toll, and passed through the 
 portal with Phil. 
 
 " Are you going with me? " asked the little fiddler, 
 in surprise. 
 
 " Only to Jersey City, Phil. There might be some 
 of your friends on board the boat. I want to see you 
 safe on the cars. Then I must leave you." 
 
 " You arc very kind, Paolo." 
 
 " You are a good little chap, Phil, and I mean to 
 help you. But the boat is about ready to start. Let 
 us go on board." 
 
 They walked down the pier, and got on the boat a 
 minute before it started. They did not pass through 
 
176 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; OT?, 
 
 to the other end, but, leaning against the side, kept 
 their eyes fixed on the city they were about to leave. 
 They had not long to wait. The signal was heard, 
 and the boat started leisurely from the pier. It was 
 bnt ten feet distant, when the attention of Paul and 
 Phil was drawn to a person running down the drop 
 in great haste. He evidently wanted to catch the 
 boat, but was too late. 
 
 Phil clutched at Paul s arm, and pointed to him in 
 evident excitement. 
 
 " It is Pietro," he said. 
 
 At that moment Pietro, standing on the brink, 
 caught sight of the boy he was pursuing, looking 
 back at him from the deck of the ferry-boat. A look 
 of exultation and disappointment swept over his face 
 as he saw Phil, bnt realized that he was out of his 
 reach. He had a hand-organ with him, and this had 
 doubtless encumbered him, and prevented his run- 
 ring as fast as he might otherwise. 
 
 "So that is Pietro, is it?" said Paul, regarding 
 him attentively in order to fix his face in his 
 memory. 
 
 " Yes. Paolo," said Phil, his eyes fixed nervously 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 177 
 
 upon his pursuer who maintained his place, and was 
 watching him with equal attention. 
 
 " You are not frightened, Phil, are you?" 
 
 Phil admitted that he was. 
 
 " He will come over in the next boat," he said. 
 
 " But he will not know where you are." 
 
 " He will seek me." 
 
 " Will he? Then I think he will be disappointed. 
 The cars will start on the other side before the next 
 boat arrives. I found out about that before we 
 started." 
 
 Phil felt relieved by this intelligence, but still he 
 was nervous. Knowing well Pietro s malice, he 
 dreaded the chances of his capturing him. 
 
 " He stays there. He does not go away," said 
 Phil. 
 
 " It will do him no good, Phil. lie is like a cat 
 watching a canary bird beyond his reach. I don t 
 think he will catch you to-da} T ." 
 
 " He may go in the cars too," suggested Phil. 
 
 " That is true. On the whole, Phil, when you get 
 to Newark, I advise you to walk out into the country. 
 Don t stay in the city. He might find you there." 
 
178 p/7/z, THE FIDDLER; O.R, 
 
 " I will do what you say, Paolo. It will oc bet 
 ter." 
 
 The} 7 soon reached the Jersey shore. The railroad 
 station was close by. They went thither at once, 
 and Phil bought a ticket for Newark. 
 
 " How soon will the cars start ? " inquired Paul ol 
 a railway official. 
 
 " In five minutes," was the answer. 
 
 " Then, Phil, I advise you to get into the cars at 
 once. Take a seat on the opposite side, though there 
 is no chance of your being seen by Pictro, who will 
 get here too late. Still, it is best to be on the safe 
 side. I will stay near the ferry, and watch Pietro 
 when he lands. Perhaps I may have a little conver 
 sation with him." 
 
 " I will go, Paolo." 
 
 " Well, good-by, Phil, and good luck," said Paul, 
 cheerfully. " If you ever come to New York, come 
 and see me." 
 
 " Yes, Paolo, I will be sure to come." 
 
 " And, Phil, though I don t think you will ever fall 
 Into the power of that old brute again (I am sure you 
 won t if you take good care of yourself), still, if he 
 
THE TOUXG STRLET HUSICIAX 179 
 
 does get you back again, come to me the first chance 
 you get, and I will see what I can do for you." 
 
 " Thank you, Paolo. I will remember your kind 
 ness always," said the little jicMler,_grateful]y. 
 
 44 That is all right, Phil. Good-by ! " 
 
 " Good-by ! " said Phil, and shaking the hand of 
 his new friend, he ascended the steps, and took a 
 seat on the opposite side, as Paul had recommended. 
 
 u I am sorry to part with Phil," said Paul to him 
 self. " lie s a fine little chap, and I like him. If 
 ever that old brute gets hold of him again, he shan t 
 keep him long. Now, Signor Pietro, I ll go back 
 and see you on your arrival." 
 
 Phil was right in supposing that Pietro would take 
 passage by the next boat. lie waited impatiently on 
 the drop till it touched, and sprang on board. lie 
 cursed the interval of delay, fearing that it would give 
 Phil a chance to get away. However, there was no 
 help for this. Time and tide wait for no man, but it 
 often happens that we are compelled to wait for 
 them. But at length the boat touched the Jersey 
 shore, and Pietro sprang out and hurried to the 
 gates, looking eagerly on all sides, for a possible 
 
180 rniL, THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 glimpse of the boy lie sought. He did not see him, 
 for the cars were already on their way, but his eyes 
 lighted up with satisfaction as they lighted on Paul, 
 whom he recognized as the companion of Phil. He 
 had seen him talking to the little fiddler. Probably 
 he would know where he had gone. He walked up 
 to Paul, who was standing near, and touching his 
 cap, said, " Excuse me, signore, but have you seen 
 my little brother?" 
 
 " Your little brother?" repeated Paul, deliberately. 
 
 " Si, signore, a little boy with a fiddle. lie was so 
 high ;" and Pictro indicated the height of Phil cor 
 rectly by his hand. 
 
 u There was a boy came over in the boat with me," 
 paid Paul. 
 
 " Yes ; he is the one," said Pictro, eagerly. 
 
 " And he is your brother? " 
 
 " Si, signore." 
 
 " That s a lie," thought Paul, "I should know it, 
 even if Phil had not told me. Phil is a handsome 
 little chap. He wouldn t have such a villanous-look 
 ing brother as you " 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN". 181 
 
 " Can you tell me where be has gone? " asked Pie- 
 cro, eagerly. 
 
 "Didn t he tell you where he was going?" asked 
 Paul, in turn. 
 
 " 1 think he means to run awaj"," said Pietro. 
 
 " Did 3 ou sec where he went? " 
 
 "Why should he want to run away? " asked Paul, 
 who enjoyed tantalizing Pietro, who he saw was 
 chafing with impatience. " Did } T OU not treat him 
 well?" 
 
 " He is a little rascal," said Pietro. " He is 
 treated well, but he is a thief." 
 
 " And you are his brother," repeated Paul, signifi 
 cant^. 
 
 " Did you see where he went?" asked Pietro, get 
 ting angry. " I want to take him back to his 
 father." 
 
 "How should I know?" returned Paul, coolly. 
 " Do you think I have nothing to do but to look after 
 your brother ? " 
 
 " Why didn t you tell me that before?" said Pie 
 tro, incensed. 
 
 "Don t get mad," said Paul, indifferently; "it 
 
182 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; o/z, 
 
 won t do you any good. Perhaps if you look round 
 you will sec your brother. I ll tell him you want him 
 if I see him." 
 
 Pietro looked at Paul suspiciously. It struck 
 him that the latter might be making a fool of him, 
 but Paul looked so utterly indifferent that he could 
 judge nothing from his appearance. He concluded 
 that Phil was wandering about somewhere in Jersey 
 City. It did not occur to him that he might have 
 taken the cars for some more distant place. At any 
 rate, there seemed no chance of getting any informa 
 tion out of Paul. So he adjusted his hand-organ, 
 and walked up the street leading from the ferry, look 
 ing sharply on either side, hoping to catch a glimpse 
 of the runaway ; but, of course, in vain. 
 
 "I don t think you ll find Phil to-day, Signer 
 Pietro," said-Phrl to himself, as he watched his re 
 ceding form. " Now, as there is nothing more to be 
 done here, I will go back to business." 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 183 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 PIETRO S PURSUIT. 
 
 THE distance from New York to Newark is but ten 
 miles. Phil had been there once before with an older 
 boy. lie was at no loss therefore as to the proper 
 place to get out. He stepped from the cars, and 
 found himself in a large depot. He went out of a 
 side door, and began to wander about the streets of 
 Newark. Now, for the first time, he felt that he was 
 working for himself, and the feeling was an agree 
 able one. True, he did not yet feel wholly secure. 
 Pietro might possibty follow in the next train. lie 
 inquired at the station when the next train would 
 arrive. 
 
 "In an hour," was the reply. 
 
 It would be an hour, therefore, before Pietro could 
 reach Newark. He decided to walk on without stop- 
 ping till he reached the outskirts of the city, and not 
 
184 PHIL, THE FIDDLE n; OR, 
 
 venture back till night-fall, when there would be little 
 or no danger. 
 
 Accordingly he plodded on for an hour and a half, 
 till he came where the houses were few and scattered 
 at intervals. In a business point of view, this was 
 not good policy, but safet}^ was to be consulted first 
 of all. lie halted at length before a grocery store, 
 in front of which he saw a small group of men stand 
 ing. His music was listened to with attention, but 
 when he came to pass his cap round afterwards the 
 results were small. In fact, to be precise, the collec 
 tion amounted to but eight cents. 
 
 "How s business, boy?" asked a young man who 
 stood at the door in his shirt-sleeves, and was evi 
 dently employed in the grocery. 
 
 " That is all I have taken," said Phil, showing the 
 eight cents." 
 
 " Did you come from New York this morning? " 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " Then you haven t got enough to pay for youi 
 aoket yet?" 
 
 Phil shrugged his shoulders. 
 
THE YOUNG STfiEET MUSICIAN. 185 
 
 "I don t believe you ll make a fortune out 
 here." 
 
 Phil was of the same opinion. 
 
 " You would have done better to stay in New 
 fork." 
 
 To this also Phil mentally assented, but there were 
 imperative reasons, as we know, for leaving the great 
 city. 
 
 It was already half-past twelve, and Phil began, 
 after his walk, to feel the cravings of appetite. He 
 accordingly went into the grocery, and bought some 
 crackers and cheese, which he sat down by the stove 
 and ate. 
 
 "Are you going farther?" asked the same young 
 man who had questioned him before. 
 
 " I shall go back to Newark to-night," said Phil. 
 
 " Let me try your violin." 
 
 "Can you play?" asked Phil, doubtfully, for Le 
 feared that an unpractised player might injure the 
 instrument. 
 
 "Yes, I can play. I ve got a fiddle at home my 
 self." 
 
18G rniL) THE FIDDLER; OK, 
 
 Our hero surrendered his fiddle to the young man, 
 who played passably. 
 
 " You ve got a pretty good fiddle, he said. " I 
 think it s better than mine. Can you play any danc 
 ing-tunes ? " 
 
 Phil knew one or two and played them. 
 
 " If you were not going back to Newark, I should 
 like to have you play with me this evening. I don t 
 have anybody to practise with." 
 
 " I would not know where to sleep," said Phil. 
 
 " Oh, we ve got beds enough in our house. Will 
 you stay ? " 
 
 Phil reflected that he had no place to sleep in New 
 ark except such as he might hire, and decided to 
 accept the offer of his new friend. 
 
 " This is my night off from the store," he said. I 
 haven t got to come back after supper. Just stay 
 around here till six o clock. Then I ll take 3 r ou 
 home and give you some supper, and then we ll play 
 this evening." 
 
 Phil had no objection to this arrangement. In fact 
 it promised to be an agreeable one for him. As he 
 was sure of a supper, a bed, and breakfast, there was 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 187 
 
 MO particular necessity for him to earn anything more 
 that day. However, he went out for an hour or two, 
 and succeeded in collecting twenty-five cents. lie 
 realized, however, that it was not so easy to pick up 
 pennies in the country as in the city, partly be 
 cause population is sparser, and partly because 
 though there is less privation in the country there is 
 also less money. 
 
 A little before six Phil s new friend, whose name 
 he ascertained was Edwin Grover, washed his hands, 
 and putting on his coat said, " Come along, Phil." 
 
 Phil, who had been sitting near the stove, prepared 
 to accompany him. 
 
 " We haven t got far to go," said Edwin, who was 
 eighteen. " I am glad of that, for the sooner I get 
 A the supper-table the better." 
 
 After a five minutes walk, they stopped at a com 
 fortable two-story house near the road-side. 
 
 " That s where I put up," said Edwin. 
 
 lie opened the door, and entered, followed by Phil, 
 who felt a little bashful, knowing that he was not 
 expected. 
 
 "Have you got an extra plate, mother?" asked 
 
188 p/7/z, THE FIDDLER; OT?, 
 
 Edwin. " This is a Professor of the Violin, who is 
 going to help me make some music this evening." 
 
 " He is welcome," said Mrs. Grover, cheerfully 
 4t We can make room for him. He is an Italian, I 
 suppose. What is your name? " 
 
 " Filippo." 
 
 " I will call you Philip. I suppose that is the 
 English name. Will you lay down your violin, ana 
 draw up to the fire?" 
 
 " I am not cold," said Phil. 
 
 "He is not cold, he is hungry, a. Ollendorf sa}^s," 
 said Edwin, who had written a v F;xjnch exercises 
 according to Ollendorfs system. "Is wnpcr almost 
 ready?" 
 
 " It will be ready at once. There is your father 
 coming in at the front gate, and Homy witt Ir rn. 
 
 Mr. Grover entered, and Phil made the acquaint 
 ance of the rest of the family. He soon came to feel 
 that he was a welcome guest, and shared in the family 
 supper, which was well cooked and palatable. Then 
 Edwin brought out his fiddle, and the two played 
 various tunes. Phil caught one or two new dancing- 
 tunes from his new friend, and in return taught him 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 189 
 
 an Italian air. Three or four people from a neigh 
 boring family came in, and a little impromptu dance 
 was got up. So the evening passed pleasantly, 
 and at half-past ten they went to bed, Phil sleeping 
 in a little room adjoining that in which the brothers 
 Edwin and Henry slept. 
 
 After breakfast the next morning Phil left the 
 house, with a cordial invitation to call again when he 
 happened to be passing. 
 
 Before proceeding with his adventures, we must go 
 back to Pietro. He, as we know, failed to elicit any 
 information from Paul, likely to guide him in his pur 
 suit of Phil. He was disappointed. Still he re 
 flected that Phil had but a quarter of an hour s start 
 of him, scarcely that indeed, and if he stopped 
 to play anywhere, he would doubtless easily find him. 
 There was danger, of course, that he would turn off 
 somewhere, and Pietro judged it best to inquire 
 whether such a boy had passed. 
 
 Seeing two boys playing in the street, he inquired, 
 " Have you seen anything of my little brother? " 
 
 " What does he look like ? " inquired one. 
 
190 rniL, THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 " He is not quite so large as }^ou. lie had a fiddle 
 with him." 
 
 " No, I haven t seen him. Have } r ou, Dick? " 
 
 " Yes," said the other, " there was a boy went along 
 Kith a fiddle. 
 
 This was true, but, as we know, it was not Phil. 
 
 "Did you see where he went?" demanded Pietro, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Straight ahead," was the reply 
 
 Lured by the delusive hope these words awakened, 
 Pietro went on. He did not stop to play on his organ. 
 He was too intent on finding Phil. At length, at a 
 little distance before him, he saw a figure about the 
 size of Phil, playing on the violin. He hurried 
 forward elated, but when within a few rods, he dis 
 covered, to his disappointment, that it was not Phil, 
 but a little fiddler of about his size. He was in the 
 employ of a different padrone. He was doubtless the 
 one the boy had seen. 
 
 Disappointed, Pietro now turned back, and bent 
 his steps to the ferry. But he saw nothing of Phil on 
 the way. 
 
 44 1 would like to beat him, the little wretch ! " he 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSIC*. AN. 191 
 
 said to himself angrily. "If I had not been too late 
 for 11 ic boat, I would have caught him." 
 
 It never occurred to Pietro that Phil might have 
 taken the cars for a more distant point, as he actually 
 did.. The only thing he could think of, for he was 
 not willing o give up the pursuit, was to go back. 
 He remained in Jersey City all day, wandering about 
 the streets, peering here and there ; but he did not 
 find Phil, for a very good reason. 
 
 The padrone awaited his report at night with some 
 impatience. Phil was one of the smartest boys he 
 had, and he had no mind to lose him. 
 
 " Did you find him, Pietro?" he asked, as soon as 
 his nephew entered his presence. 
 
 " I saw him," said Pietro. 
 
 " Then why did you not bring him back? " 
 
 Pietro explained the reason. His uncle listened 
 attentively. 
 
 "Pietro, you arc a fool," he said at length. 
 
 " Why am I a fool?" asked Pietro, sullenly. 
 
 " Because you sought Filippo where he is not." 
 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 " He did not stop in Jersey City. lie went farther. 
 
192 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; <XR, 
 
 He knew that you were on his track. Did you ask at 
 the station if such a boy had bought a ticket?" 
 
 " I did not think of it." 
 
 " Then you were a fool." 
 
 " "What do you want me to do ? " 
 
 " To-morrow you must go to Newark. That is the 
 first large town. I must have Filippo back." 
 
 "I will go," said Pietro, briefly. 
 
 He was mortified at the name applied to him by hia 
 uncle, as well as by the fact of Phil s having thus far 
 outwitted him. lie secretly determined that when he 
 did get him into his power, he would revenge himself 
 for all the trouble to which he had been put, and 
 there was little doubt that he would keep his word. 
 
THK YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 193 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 PIETRO S DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 THOUGH Phil had not taken in much money during 
 the first day of independence, he had more than paid 
 his expenses. He started on the second day with a 
 good breakfast, and good spirits. He determined to 
 walk back to Newark, where he might expect to col 
 lect more money than in the suburbs. If he should 
 meet Pietro he determined not to yield without a 
 struggle. But he felt better now than at first, and 
 less afraid of the padrone. 
 
 Nine o clock found him again in Newark. He soon 
 came to a halt, and began to play. A few paused to 
 listen, but their interest in music did not extend so 
 far as to affect their pockets. Phil passed around his 
 bat in vain. He found himself likely to go unre 
 warded for his labor. But just then he noticed a 
 carriage with open door, waiting in front of a fash 
 ionable dry goods store. Two ladies had just come 
 
194 r.aiL, THE FIDDLER; o/z, 
 
 out and taken their seats preparatory to driving off, 
 when Phil stepped up bare-headed and held his cap. 
 He was an unusually attractive bo}^, and as he smiled 
 ono of the ladies, who was particularly fond of chil 
 dren, noticed him. 
 
 " What a handsome boy ! " she said to her com 
 panion. 
 
 " Some pennies for music," said Phil. 
 
 " How old are you?" asked the lady. 
 
 " Twelve years." 
 
 " Just the age of my Johnny. If I give you some 
 money what will you do with it ? " 
 
 " I will buy dinner," said Phil. 
 
 " I never give to vagrants," said the second lady, 
 a spinster of uncertain age, who did not share her 
 n/ece s partiality for children. 
 
 " It isn t his fault if he is a vagrant, Aunt Maria," 
 
 7F 
 
 said the younger lady. 
 
 " I have no doubt he is a thief," continued Aunt 
 Maria, with acerbity. 
 
 " I am not a thief," said Phil, indignantly, for he 
 understood very well the imputation, and he replaced 
 his cap on his head- 
 
THE YOUX<3 STREET MUSICIAN. 195 
 
 "I don t believe you are," said the first lady; 
 " here, take this," and she put in his hand twenty- 
 five cents. 
 
 "Thank you, signora," said Phil, with a grateful 
 smile. 
 
 " That money is thrown awa} r ," said the elder 
 lady; "you are very indiscriminate in your charity, 
 Eleanor." 
 
 " It is better to give too much than too little. Aunt 
 Maria, isn t it?!L 
 
 "You shouldn t give to unworthy objects." 
 
 " How do you know this boy is an unworthy 
 object?" 
 
 " He is a } T oung vagrant." 
 
 "Can he help it? It is the way he makes his 
 living." 
 
 The discussion continued, but Phil did not stop to 
 near it. He had received more than he expected, 
 and now felt ready to continue his business. One 
 thing was fortunate, and relieved him from the 
 anxiety which he had formerly labored under. lie 
 was not ol liged to obtain a certain sum in order to 
 escape a beating at night. He had no master to ao 
 
196 p/z/z, THE FIDDLER; ojj, 
 
 count to. He was his own employer, as long as he 
 kept out of the clutches of the padrone. 
 
 Phil continued to roam about the streets very much 
 after the old fashion, playing here and there as he 
 thought it expedient. By noon he had picked up 
 BC venty-five cents, and felt very well satisfied with 
 his success. But if, as we are told, the hour that is 
 darkest is just before day, it also happens sometimes 
 that danger lies in wait for prosperity, and danger 
 menaced our young hero, though he did not know it. 
 To explain this, we must go back a little. 
 
 When Pietro prepared to leave the lodging-house 
 In the morning, the padrone called him. 
 
 " Pietro," said he, "you must find Filippo to 
 day." 
 
 " Where shall I go?" asked Pietro. 
 
 "Go to Newark. Filippo went there, no doubt, 
 while you, stupid that you are, were looking for him 
 hi Jersey City. You have been in Newark before? " 
 
 " Yes, signore padrone." 
 
 " Very good ; then you need no directions." 
 
 "If I do not find him in Newark, where shall I 
 go? v 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 197 
 
 " He is in Newark," said the padrone, confidently. 
 w He will not leave it." 
 
 He judged that Phil would consider himself safe 
 there, and would prefer to remain in a city rathei 
 than go into the country. 
 
 " I will do my best," said Pietro. 
 
 " I expect you to bring him back to-night." 
 
 " I should like to do so," said Pietro, and he spoke 
 the truth. Apart from his natural tendency to play 
 the tyrant over smaller bo} T s, he felt a personal 
 grudge against Phil for ending him the day before, 
 and so subjecting him to the trouble of another day s 
 pursuit besides the mortification of incurring a rep 
 rimand from his uncle. Never did agent accept a 
 commission more readily than Pietro accepted that 
 of catching and bringing back Filippo to the 
 padrone. 
 
 Leaving the lodging-house he walked down to the 
 ferry at the foot of CojrfrtlandTstreet, and took the 
 first train for Newark. It was ten o clock before he 
 reached the city. He had nothing in particular to 
 guide him, but made up his mind to wander about all 
 day, inquiring from time to time if any one had seen 
 
198 P/Z7Z, THE flDDLER; OK, 
 
 his little brother, describing Phil. After a while his 
 inquiries were answered in the affirmative, and he 
 gradually got on the track of our hero. 
 
 At twelve o clock Phil went into a restaurant, and 
 Invested thirty cents in a dinner. As the prices were 
 low, he obtained for this sum all he desired. Ten 
 minutes afterwards, as he was walking leisurely along 
 with that feeling of tranquil enjoyment which a full 
 stomach is apt to give, Pietro turned the corner be 
 hind him. No sooner did the organ-grinder catch 
 sight of his prey, than a fierce joy lighted up his 
 eyes, and he quickened his pace. 
 
 "Ah, scelerato, I have you now," he exclaimed to 
 himself. " To-night you shall feel the stick." 
 
 But opportunely for himself Phil looked behind 
 him. When he saw Pietro at but a few rods distance 
 ins heart stood still with sudden fright, and for an in 
 stant his feet were rooted to the ground. Then the 
 thought of escape came to him, and he began to run, 
 not too soon. 
 
 u Stop ! " called out Pietro. " Stop, or I will kill 
 you ! " 
 
 But Phil did not compreher.d the advantage of 
 
THE TOUNQ STREET MUSICIAN. 199 
 
 surrendering himself to Pietro. He understood too 
 well how he would be treated, if he returned a 
 prisoner. Instead of obeying the call, he only sped 
 on the faster. Now between the pursuer and the 
 pursued there was a difference of six years, Pietro 
 being eighteen, while Phil was but twelve. This, of 
 course, was in Pietro s favor. On the other hand, 
 the pursuer was encumbered by a hand-organ, which 
 retarded his progress, while Phil had only a violin, 
 which did not delay him at all. This made their speed 
 about equal, and gave Phil a chance to escape, unless 
 he should meet with some interruption. 
 
 " Stop ! " called Pietro, furiously, beginning to 
 realize that the victory was not yet won. 
 
 Phil looked over his shoulder, and, seeing that 
 Pietro was no nearer, took fresh courage. He darted 
 round a corner with his pursuer half a dozen rods be 
 hind him. They were not in the most frequented 
 parts of the city, but in a quarter occupied by two- 
 story wooden houses. Seeing a front dcor open, 
 Phil, with a sudden impulse, ran hastily in, closing 
 the door behind him. 
 
 A woman with her sleeves rolled up, who appeared 
 
200 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 to have taken them from the tub, hearing his steps, 
 came out from the back room. 
 
 4 What do ye want?" she demanded, suspiciously. 
 " Save me ! " cried Phil, out of breath. " Some 
 one is chasing me. He is bad. He will beat me." 
 
 The woman s s} r mpathies were quickly enlisted. 
 She had a warm heart, and was always ready to give 
 aid to the oppressed. 
 
 " Whist, darlint, run upstairs, and hide under the 
 bed. I ll send him off wid a flea in his ear, whoever 
 he is." 
 
 Phil was quick to take a hint. He ran upstairs, 
 and concealed himself as directed. While he was 
 doing it, the lower door, which he had shut, was 
 opened by Pietrp. He was about to rush into the 
 house, but the muscular form of Phil s friend stood 
 in the way. 
 
 " Out wid ye I " said she, flourishing a broom, 
 which she had snatched up. " Is that the way you 
 inter a dacint woman s house, ye spalpeen ! " 
 
 "I want iny brother/ said Pietro, drawing back a 
 little before the amazon who disputed his passage. 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 201 
 
 "Go and find him, thin !" said Bridget McG nire, 
 " and kape out of in} house." 
 
 " But lie is here," said Pietro, angrily. " I saw 
 him come in." 
 
 " Then, one of the family is enough," said Bridget, 
 " I don t want another. Lave here wid you ! " 
 
 u Give me my brother, then ! " said Pietro, pro 
 voked. 
 
 " I don t know an} 7 thing of your brother. If he 
 looks like you, he s a beauty, sure," returned Mrs 
 McGuire. 
 
 " Will you let me look for him ? " 
 
 " Faith, and I won t. You may call him if you 
 plase." 
 
 Pietro knew that this would do >rery little good, 
 but there seemed nothing else to do. 
 
 " Filippo ! " he called. " Come here. The pa 
 drone has sent for you." 
 
 "What was ye sayin ?" demanded Bridget, not 
 comprehending the Italian. 
 
 " I told my brother to come." 
 
 " Then you can go out and wait for him," said she, 
 " I don t want you in the house." 
 
202 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 Pictro was very angry. He suspected that Phil 
 was in the rear room, and was anxious to search for 
 him. But Bridget McGuire was in the way, no 
 light, delicate woman, but at least forty pounds heavier 
 than Pietro. Moreover, she was armed with a broom, 
 and seemed quite ready to use it. Phil was fortunate 
 in obtaining so able a protector. Pietro looked at 
 her, and had a vague thought of running by her, and 
 dragging out Phil if he found him. But Bridget was 
 planted so squarely in his path that this course did 
 not seem very practicable. 
 
 "Will you give me my brother?" demanded 
 Pietro, forced to use words where he would willingly 
 have used blows. 
 
 " I haven t got your brother." 
 
 " lie is in this house." 
 
 " Thin he may stay here, but you shan t," said 
 Bridget, and she made a sudden demonstration with 
 the broom, of so threatening a character that Pietro 
 hastily backed out of the house, and the door was 
 instantly bolted in his face. 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 203 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE SIEGE. 
 
 WHEN the enemy had fairly been driven out of the 
 bouse Mrs. McGuire went upstairs in search of Phil. 
 Our hero had come out from his place of concealment, 
 and stood at the window. 
 
 "Where is Pietro?" he asked, as his hostess 
 appeared in the chamber. 
 
 " I druv him out of the house," said Bridget, 
 triumphantly. 
 
 "Then he won t come up here?" interrogated 
 Phil. 
 
 " It s I that would like to see him thry it," said 
 Mrs. McGuire, shaking her head in a very positive 
 manner. " FJ break my broom over his back first." 
 
 Phil breathed freer, lie saw that he was rescued 
 from immediate clanger. 
 
 "Where is he now?" 
 
204 rniL, THE FIDDLER; w*, 
 
 " lie s outside watching for you. He ll have to 
 wait till you come out." 
 
 " May I stay here till he goes? " 
 
 " Sure, and you may," said the warm-hearted 
 Irish- woman. " You re as welcome as flowers in 
 May. Are you hungry ? " 
 
 " No, thank you," said Phil. " I have eaten my 
 dinner." 
 
 " Won t you thry a bit of bread and cold mate 
 now?" she asked, hospitably. 
 
 " You are very kind," said Phil, gratefully, " but 
 I am not hungry. I only want to get away from 
 Pietro." 
 
 " Is that the haythen s name? Sure I niver heard 
 it before." 
 
 " It is Peter in English." 
 
 " And has he got the name of the blessed St. 
 Peter thin. Sure St. Peter would be ashamed of 
 him. And is he your brother?" 
 
 " No," said Phil. 
 
 " He said he was ; but I thought it was a wicked 
 lie when he said it. He s too bad, sure, tc be a 
 brother of yours. But I must go down to my work 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 205 
 
 My clothes is in the tub, and the water will get 
 cold." 
 
 " Will you be kind enough to tell me when he goes 
 away?" asked Phil. 
 
 " Sure I will. Rest aisy, daiiint. He shan t get 
 hold of you" 
 
 Pictro s disappointment may be imagined when he 
 found that the victim whom he already considered in 
 his grasp was snatched from him in the very moment 
 of his triumph. He felt nearly as much incensed at 
 Mrs. McGuire as at Phil, but against the former he 
 had no remedy. Over the stalwart Irish-woman neither 
 he nor the padrone had any jurisdiction, and he was 
 compelled to own himself ignominiously repulsed and 
 baffled. Still all was not lost. Phil must come out 
 of the house some time, and when he did he would 
 capture him. When that happy moment arrived he 
 resolved to inflict a little punishment on our hero on 
 his own account, in anticipation of that which awaited 
 him from his uncle, the padrone. He therefore took 
 his position in front of the house, and maintained a 
 careful watch, that Phil might not escape unol> 
 served. 
 
206 P/7/X, TJIE FIDDLER; OM, 
 
 So half an hour passed. He could hear no noise 
 inside the house, nor did Phil show himself at any 
 of the windows. Pietro was distiixbed by a sudden 
 suspicion. What if, while he was watching, Phil 
 had escaped by the back door, and was already at a 
 distance ! This would be quite possible, for as he 
 stood he could only watch the front of the house. 
 The rear was hidden from his view. Made uneasy 
 by this thought, he shifted his ground, and crept 
 stealthily round on the side, in the hope of catching 
 a view of Phil, or perhaps hearing some conversation 
 between him and his Amazonian protector by which 
 he might set at rest his suddenly formed suspicions. 
 
 He was wrong, however. Phil wa-s still upstairs. 
 He was disposed to be cautious, and did not mean to 
 leave his present place of security until he should be 
 apprised by his hostess that Pietro had gone. 
 
 Bridget McGuire kept on with her washing. She 
 had been once to the front room, and, looking through 
 the blinds, had ascertained that Pietro was still 
 there. 
 
 * He ll have to wait long enough," she said to her- 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 207 
 
 self, " the hay then ! It s hard he ll find it to get the 
 better of Bridget McGuire." 
 
 She was still at her tub when through the opposite 
 window on the side of the house she caught sight of 
 Pietro creeping stealthily along, as we have de 
 scribed. 
 
 " I ll be even wid him," said Bridget to herself 
 exultingly. " I ll tache him to prowl round my 
 house." 
 
 She took from the sink near by a large, long- 
 handled tin dipper, and filled it full of warm sud3 
 from the tub. Then stealing to the window, she 
 opened it suddenly, and as Pietro looked up, suddenly - 
 launched the contents in his face, calling forth a vol 
 ley of imprecations, which I would rather not transfer 
 to my page. Being in Italian, Bridget did not 
 exactly understand their meaning, but guessed it. 
 
 " Is it there ye are?" she said, in affected sur 
 prise. 
 
 " Why did you do that? " demanded Pietro, finding 
 enough English to express his indignation. 
 
 "Why did I do it?" repeated Bridget. " How 
 would I know that you were crapin under my windy? 
 
208 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; OK, 
 
 It serves you right anyhow. I don t want you 
 here." 
 
 " Send out my brother, then," said Pietro. 
 
 " There s no brother of yours inside," said Mrs. 
 McQuire. 
 
 " It s a lie !" said Pietro, angrily stamping his foot. 
 
 " Do you want it ag in?" asked Bridget, filling her 
 dipper once more from the tub, causing Pietro to 
 withdraw hastily to a greater distance. " Don t you 
 tell Bridget McGuire that she lies." 
 
 " My brother is in the house," reiterated Pietro, 
 doggedly. 
 
 kk He is no brother of yours, he says so." 
 
 " He lies," said Pietro. 
 
 " Shure and it s somebody else lies, I m thinkin ," 
 naid Bridget. 
 
 " Is he in the house?" demanded Pietro, finding it 
 .difficult to argue with Phil s protector. 
 
 " I don t see him," said Bridget, shrewdly, turning 
 *nd glancing round the room. 
 
 " I ll call the police," said Pietro, trying to intim 
 idate his adversary. 
 
 " I wish you would," she answered promptly. " It 
 
THE YOUXO STREET MUSICIAN. 209 
 
 would save me the trouble. I ll make a charge ag inst 
 you for thryin to break in to my bouse ; maybe you 
 want to stale something." 
 
 Pietro was getting disgusted. Mrs. McGuire proved 
 more unmanageable than he anticipated. It was tan 
 talizing to think that Phil was so near him, and yet 
 out of his reach. He anathematized Phil s protector 
 in his heart, and I am afraid it would have gone hard 
 with her if he could have had his wishes fulfilled. He 
 was not troubled to think what next to say, for 
 Bridget suddenly terminated the interview, by shut 
 ting down the window with the remark, " Go away 
 from here ! I don t want you lookin in at my windy." 
 
 P f etro did not, however, go away immediately. Ho 
 moved a little further to the rear, having a suspicion 
 that Phil might escape from the door at the back. 
 While he was watching here, he suddenly heard the 
 front door open, and shut with a loud sound. He ran 
 to the front, thinking that Phil might be taking flight 
 from the street door, but it was only a ruse of Mrs. 
 McGuire, who rather enjoyed tantalizing Pietro. He 
 looked carefully up and down the street, but, seeing 
 nothing of Phil, he concluded he must still be inside 
 
210 P/77Z, THE FIDDLEJt; O7?, 
 
 He therefore resumed his watch, but in some perplex 
 ity as to where he ought to stand, in order to watch 
 both the front and rear. Phil occasionally looked 
 guardedly from the window in the second story, and 
 saw his enemy, but knew that as long as he remained 
 indoors he was safe. It was not very agreeable 
 remaining in the chamber alone, but it was a great 
 deal better than falling into the clutches of Pietro, 
 and he felt fortunate to have found so secure a place 
 of refuge. 
 
 Pietro finally posted himself at the side of the 
 house, where he could command a view of both front 
 and rear, and there maintained his stand nearly 
 underneath the window at which his intended prisoner 
 was standing. 
 
 As Phil was watching him, suddenly he heard steps, 
 and Bridget McGuire entered the chamber. She 
 bore in her hand the same tin dipper before noticed, 
 filled with steaming hot water. Phil regarded her 
 with some surprise. 
 
 "Would you like to see some fun now?" she 
 asked, her face covered by a broad smile. 
 
 " Yes," said Phil. 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 21i 
 
 " Open the windy, then, aisy now, so he won t 
 hear." 
 
 Phil obeyed directions, and managed not to 
 attract the attention of his besieger below, who 
 chanced at the moment to be looking towards the 
 door in the rear. 
 
 " Now," said Bridget, " take this clipper and give 
 him the binifit of it." 
 
 Phil took the idea at once, and the dipper at the 
 same time. 
 
 " Don t let him see you do it," cautioned his pro 
 tector. 
 
 Phil, holding the dipper carefully, discharged the 
 contents with such good aim that they drenched the 
 watching Pietro. The water being pretty hot, a howl 
 of pain and rage rose from below, and Pietro danced 
 about frantically. Looking up, he saw no one, for 
 Phil had followed directions and drawn his head in 
 immediately. But Mrs. McGuire, less cautious, 
 looked out directly afterwards. 
 
 4 Will ye go now, or will ye stand jist where I 
 throw the hot wather ? " 
 
 In reply, Pietro indulged in some rather emphatic 
 
12 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; on, 
 
 language, but being in the Italian language, in which 
 he was more fluent, they fell unregarded upon the 
 ears of Mrs. McGuire. 
 
 " I told you to go," she said. u I ve got some 
 more wather inside." 
 
 Pietro stepped baek in alarm. lie had no disposi 
 tion to take another warm shower-bath, and he had 
 found out to his cost that Bridget McGuire was not a 
 timid woman, or easily frightened. 
 
 But he had not yet abandoned the siege. He 
 shifted his ground to the front of the house, and took 
 a position commanding a view of the front door. 
 
TffS TOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 21 3 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 PIETRO IS COMPELLED TO RAISE THE SIEGE, 
 
 THOUGH Phil was the besieged party, his position 
 was decidedly preferable to that of Pietro. The 
 afternoon was passing, and he was earning nothing. 
 He finally uncovered his organ, and began to play. 
 A few gathered around him, but they were of that 
 class with whom money is not plenty. So after a 
 while, finding no pennies forthcoming, he stopped 
 suddenly, but did not move on, as his auditors ex 
 pected him to. He still kept his eyes fixed on Mrs. 
 McGuire s dwelling. He did this so long as to 
 attract observation. 
 
 " You ll know the house next time, mister," said a 
 sharp boy. 
 
 Pietro was about to answer angrily, when a thought 
 struck him. 
 
 " Will you do something for me?" he asked. 
 
 " How much? " inquired the boy, suggestively 
 
211 PHIL* THE FIDDLE n; ox, 
 
 " Five cents," answered Pietro, understanding his 
 meaning. 
 
 " It isn t much," said the boy, reflectively. " Tell 
 me what you want." 
 
 Though Pietro was not much of a master of Eng 
 lish, he contrived to make the boy understand that he 
 was to go round to the back door and tell Mrs. 
 McGuire that he, Pietro, was gone. lie intended to 
 hide close by, and when Phil came out, as he hoped, 
 on the strength of his disappearance, he would de 
 scend upon him, and bear him off triumphantly. 
 
 Armed with these instructions, the boy went round 
 to the back door and knocked. 
 
 Thinking it might be Phil s enemy, Mrs. McGuire 
 went to the door, holding in one hand a dipper of hot 
 suds, ready to use in case of emergency. 
 
 " *\\ r cll, what do you want? " she asked abruptly, 
 seeing that it was a boy. 
 
 " lie s gone," said the boy. 
 
 "Who s gone?" 
 
 "The man with the hand-organ, ma am." 
 
 "And what for do I care?" demanded Bridget, 
 suspiciously. 
 
I OUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 215 
 
 This was a question the boy could not aiuwer. In 
 fact, he wondered himself why such a message should 
 have been sent. He could only look at her in 
 silence. 
 
 " Who told you to tell the man was gone? " asked 
 Bridget, with a shrewdness worthy of a practitioner 
 at the bar. 
 
 " The Italian told me." 
 
 "Did he?" repeated Bridget, who saw into the 
 trick at once. " He s very kind." 
 
 " He didn t want you to know he told me," said 
 the boy, remembering his instructions too late. 
 
 Mrs. McGuire nodded her head intelligently. 
 
 t; True for you," said she. " What did he pay you 
 for tellin me ? " 
 
 " Five cents." 
 
 " Thin it s five cints lost. Do you want to earn 
 another five cints?" 
 
 " Yes," said the boy, promptly. 
 
 " Thin do what I tell you?" 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Come in and I ll tell you." 
 
216 PJJIL, THE FIDDLER; o&, 
 
 The boy having entered, Mrs. McGuire led him to 
 the front door. 
 
 " Now," said she, " when I open the door, run as 
 fast as you can. The man that sint you will think it 
 is another boy, and will run after you. Do ye mind?" 
 
 The young messenger began to see the joke, and 
 was quite willing to help carry it out. But even the 
 prospective fun did not make him forgetful of his 
 promised recompense. 
 
 "Where s the five cents?" he asked. 
 
 " Here," said Bridget, and diving into the depths 
 of a capacious pocket she drew out five pennies. 
 
 "That s all right," said the boy. "Now open the 
 door." 
 
 Bridget took care to make a noise in opening the 
 door, and, as it opened, she said in a loud voice, 
 "You re all safe; the man s "gone." 
 
 " Now run," she said in a lower voice. 
 
 The boy dashed out of the door-way, but Mrs. 
 McGuire remained standing there. She was not 
 much surprised to see Pietro run out from the other 
 side of the house, and prepare to chase the runaway. 
 But quickly perceiving that he was mistaken, he 
 
THE YOUNG STKEET MUSICIAN. 217 
 
 checked his steps, and turning saw Mrs. McGuire 
 with a triumphant sinilo on her face. 
 
 "Why don t you run?" she said. "You can 
 catch him." 
 
 " It isn t my brother," he answered, sullenly. 
 
 " I thought you was gone," she said. 
 
 " I am waiting for my brother." 
 
 " Thin you ll have to wait. You wanted to chate 
 me, you haythen ! But Bridget McGuire aint to be 
 took in by such as } T OU. You d better lave this be 
 fore my man comes home from his work, or he ll give 
 you lave of absence wid a kick." 
 
 Without waiting for an answer Bridget shut the 
 door, and bolted it, leaving her enemy routed at 
 all points. 
 
 In fact Pietro began to lose courage. lie saw that 
 he had a determined foe to contend with. lie had 
 been foiled thus far in every effort to obtain posses 
 sion of Phil. But the more difficult the enterprise 
 seemed, the more anxious he became to carry it out 
 successfully. lie knew that the padrone would not 
 give him a very cordial reception if he returned with 
 out Phil, especially as he would be compelled to 
 
218 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; 07?, 
 
 admit that he had seen him, and had nevertheless 
 failed to secure him. Ilis uncle would not be able to 
 appreciate the obstacles he had encountered, but 
 would consider him in fault. For this reason, he did 
 not like to give up the siege, though he saw little 
 hope of accomplishing his object. At length, how 
 ever, he was obliged to raise the siege, but from a 
 cause with which neither Phil nor his defender had 
 anything to do. 
 
 The sky which had till this time been clear, sud 
 denly darkened. In ten minutes rain began to fall 
 in large drops. A sudden shower, unusual at this 
 time in the year, came up, and pedestrians every 
 where, caught without umbrellas, fled panic-stricken 
 to the nearest shelter. Twice before, as we know, 
 Pietro had suffered from a shower of warm water. 
 This, though colder, was even more formidable. 
 Vanquished by the forces of nature, Pietro shouldered 
 his instrument and fled incontinently. Phil might 
 come out now, if he chose. His enemy had deserted 
 Iiis post, and the coast was clear. 
 
 "That ll make the haythen lave," thought Mrs. 
 McGuire, who, though sorry to see the rain on a^ 
 
THE YOUNG STItEET MUSICIAN. 219 
 
 count of her washing, exulted in the fact that Pietro 
 was caught out in it. 
 
 She went to the front door and looked out. Look 
 ing up the street, she just caught a glimpse of the 
 organ in rapid retreat. She now unbolted the door, 
 the danger being at an end, and went up to acquaint 
 Phil with the good news. 
 
 " You may come down now," she said. 
 
 " Is he gone?" inquired Phil. 
 
 " Shure he s runnin up the street as fast as his legs 
 can carry him." 
 
 "Thank you for saving me from him," said Phil, 
 with a great sense of relief. 
 
 " Whisht now ; I don t nade any thanks. Come 
 down by the fire now." 
 
 So Phil went down, and Bridget, on hospitable 
 thoughts intent, drew her only rocking-chair near the 
 stove, and forced Phil to sit down in it. Then she 
 told him, with evident enjoyment, of the trick which 
 Pietro had tried to play on her, and how he had failed. 
 
 " He couldn t chate me, the haythen ! " she con 
 cluded. " I was too smart for the likes of him, any 
 how. Where do you live when you are at home ? " 
 
220 
 
 PJULj THE FIDDLE 12; Off, 
 
 " I have no home now," said Phil. 
 
 " And have you. no father and mother? 
 
 " Yes," said Phil. " They live in Italy." 
 
 " And why did they let } T OU go so far away?" 
 
 " They were poor, and the padrone offered them 
 money," answered Phil, forced to answer, though the 
 subject was an unpleasant one. 
 
 " And did they know he was a bad rnan, and would 
 bate you. ? " 
 
 " I don t think they knew," said Phil, with hesita 
 tion. " My mother did not know." 
 
 "I ve got three childer myself," said Bridget; 
 " they ll get wet comin home from school, the darlints, 
 but I wouldn t let em go with any man to a far 
 country, if he d give me all the gowld in the world. 
 And where does that man live that trates you so 
 bad?" 
 
 " In New York." 
 
 <s And does Peter or whatever the haythen s name 
 is live there too ? " 
 
 " Yes, Pietro lives there. The padrone is his uncle, 
 and treats him better than the rest of us. He sent 
 him after me to bring me back." 
 
THE Y JUNO STREET MUSICIAN 1 . 221 
 
 "And what is your name? Is it Peter, like his?" 
 
 " No ; my name is Filippo." 
 
 " It s a quare name." 
 
 u American boys call me Phil." 
 
 "That s better. It s a Christian name, and the 
 other isn t. Before I married my man, I lived five 
 years at Mrs. Robertson s, and she had a boy they 
 called Phil. His whole name was Philip." 
 
 " That is my name in English." 
 
 " Then why don t you call it so, instead of Philip- 
 O. What good is the 0, anyhow? In my country they 
 put the before the name instead of to the tail-ind 
 of it. My mother was an O Connor. But it s likely 
 I very country has its own ways." 
 
 Phil knew very little of Ireland, and did not fully 
 understand Mrs. McGuirc s philosophical remarks. 
 Otherwise they might have amused him, as they may 
 possibly amuse my readers. 
 
 I cannot undertake to chronicle the conversation 
 that followed between Phil and his hostess. She 
 made numerous inquiries, to some of which he was 
 able to give satisfactory replies, to others not. Bat 
 In half an hour there was an interruption, and 9 
 
222 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; o, 
 
 noisy one. Three stout, freckle-faced children ran in 
 at the back door, dripping as if they had just emerged 
 from a shower-bath. Phil moved aside to let them 
 approach the stove. 
 
 Forthwith Mrs. McGuirc was engaged in motherly 
 cares, removing a part of the wet clothing, and 
 lamenting for the state in which her sturdy offspring 
 had returned. But presently order was restored, and 
 the bustle was succeeded by quiet. 
 
 " Play us a tune," said Pat, the oldest. 
 
 Phil complied with the request, and played tune 
 after tune, to the great delight of the children as well 
 as of Mrs. McGuire herself. The result was that 
 when, shortly after, on the storm subsiding, Phil pro 
 posed to go, the children clamored to have him stay, 
 and he received such a cordial invitation to stop till 
 the next morning that he accepted, nothing loth. So 
 till the next morning our young hero is provided for* 
 
TITS YOUXQ STREET ATUSICTAtf. 223 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A PITCHED BATTLE. 
 
 IL* 3 my youthful reader ever seen a dog slinkiug 
 homo with downcast look, and tail between his legs? 
 It was with very much the same air that Pietro in tho 
 evening entered the presence of the padrone. lie 
 had received a mortifying defeat, and now he had be 
 fore him the difficult task of acknowledging it. 
 
 " "Well, Pietro," said the padrone, harshly, " where 
 isFilippo?" 
 
 " He is not with me," answered Pietro, in an em 
 barrassed manner. 
 
 Didn t you see him, then?" demanded his uncle, 
 hastily. 
 
 For an instant Pietro was inclined to reply in the 
 negative, knowing that the censure he would incur 
 would be less. But Phil might yet be taken, he 
 probably would be sooi er or later, Pietro thought, 
 and then his falsehood would be found out, and he 
 
224 PIIIL< THE FIDDLER, 0JJ, 
 
 would in consequence lose the confidence of the 
 padrone. So, difficult though it was, he thought it 
 politic to tell the truth. 
 
 " Si, signore, I saw him," said he. 
 
 u Then why didn t you drag him home?" de 
 manded his uncle, with contracted brow. u Didn t I 
 order you to bring him home ? " 
 
 " Si, signore, but I could not." 
 
 "Are you not so strong as he, then?" asked the 
 padrone, with a sneer. " Is a boy of twelve more 
 than a match for J T OU, who are six years older? " 
 
 " I could kill him with my little finger," said 
 Pietro, stung by this taunt, and for the moment he 
 looked as if he would like to do it. 
 
 " Then you didn t want to bring him? Come, you 
 aie not too old for the stick yet." 
 
 Pietro glowed beneath his dark skin with anger 
 and shame when these words were addressed to him. 
 He would not have cared so much had they been 
 alone, but some of the younger boys were present, 
 and it shamed him to be threatened in their presence. 
 
 "I will tell 3 r ou how it happened," he said, sup- 
 
THE YOUNO STREET MUSICIAN". 225 
 
 pressing his anger as well as he could, " and you will 
 Bee that I was not in fault." 
 
 " Speak on, then," said his uncle ; but his tone was 
 cold and incredulous. 
 
 Pictro told the story, as we know it. It will not 
 be necessary to repeat it. "When he had finished, his 
 uncle said, with a sneer, " So you were afraid of a 
 woman. I am ashamed of you." 
 
 " What could I do?" pleaded Pietro. 
 
 "What could you do?" repeated the padrone, 
 furiously ; " you could push her aside, run into thtf 
 house, and secure the boy. You are a coward, - 
 afraid of a woman ! " 
 
 " It was her house/ said Pietro. " She would call 
 the police." 
 
 " So could you. You could say it was 3 our 
 brother you sought. There was no difficulty. Do 
 you think Filippo is there yet ? " 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 " To-morrow I will go with you myself," said the 
 padrone. "I see I cannot trust you alone. You 
 shall show me the house, and I will take the boy." 
 
 Pietro was glad to hear this. It shifted the re- 
 
226 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; oit, 
 
 sponsibility from his shoulders, and he was privately 
 convinced that Mrs. McGuirc would prove a more 
 formidable antagonist than the padrone imagined. 
 Whichever way it turned out, he would experience a 
 feeling of satisfaction. If the padrone got worsted, 
 it would show that he, Pietro, need not be ashamed 
 of his defeat. If Mrs. McGuire had to surrender at 
 discretion, he would rejoice in her discomfiture. So, 
 in spite of his reprimand, he went to bed with better 
 spirits than he came home. 
 
 The next morning Pietro and the padrone pro 
 ceeded to Newark, as proposed. Arrived there, the 
 former led his uncle at once to the house of the re 
 doubtable Mrs. McGuire. It will be necessary for 
 us to precede them. 
 
 Patrick McGuire was a laborer, and for some 
 months past had had steady work. But, as luck 
 would have it, work ceased for him on the day in 
 which his wife had proved so powerful a protector to 
 Phil. When he came home at night he announced 
 this. 
 
 " Niver mind, Pat," said Mrs. McGuire, who was 
 sanguine and hopeful, "we ll live somehow. I ve 
 
THE YOUXO STREET MUSICIAN. 227 
 
 got a bit of money upstairs, and I ll earn something 
 by washing. We_ won t starve." 
 
 u I ll get work ag in soon, maybe," sold Put, en 
 couraged. 
 
 " Shure 3-011 will." 
 
 4t And if I don t, I ll help you wash," said her hus 
 band, humorous y. 
 
 " Shure you d spoil the clothes," said Bridget 
 laughing. 
 
 In the evening Phil played, and they had a merry 
 time. Mr. McGuire quite forgot that he was out of 
 work, and seizing his wife by the waist danced around 
 the kitchen, to the great delight of the children. 
 
 The next morning Phil thanked Mrs. McGuire for 
 her kindness, and prepared to go away. 
 
 "Why will you go?" asked Bridget, hospitably. 
 " Shure we have room for you. You can pay u^ a 
 Little for your atin , and sleep with the childer." 
 
 " I should like it," said Phil, " but " 
 
 "But what?" 
 
 " Pietro will come for me." 
 
 " And if he does, my Pat will kick him out of 
 loors." 
 
228 P/7/Z, THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 Mr. McGuire was six feet in height, and power 
 fully made. There was no doubt he could do it if 
 he had the opportunity. But Phil knew that he must 
 go out into the streets, and then Pietro might wnylay 
 him when he had no protector at hand. He explained 
 his difficulty to Mrs. McGuire, and she proposed that 
 he should remain close at hand all the forenoon ; near 
 enough to fly to the house, as a refuge, if needful. If 
 Pietro did not appear in that time, he probably would 
 not at all. 
 
 Phil agreed to this plan, and accordingly began to 
 play and sing in the immediate neighborhood, keeping 
 a watchful lookout for the enemy. His earnings were 
 small, for the neighborhood was poor. Still he picked 
 np a few pennies, and his store was increased by a 
 twenty-five-cent gift from a passing gentleman. Ho 
 had just commenced a new tune, being at that time 
 ten rods from the house, when his watchful eyes 
 detected the approach of Pietro, and, more formidable 
 still, the padrone. 
 
 He did not stop to finish the tune, but took to his 
 Leels At that moment the padrone saw him. Witb 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 229 
 
 a cry of fierce exultation, he started tn pursuit, and 
 Pietro with him. He thought Phil already in his grasp. 
 
 Phil dashed breathless into the kitchen, where 
 Mrs. McGuire was ironing. 
 
 "What s the matter?" she asked. 
 
 "The padrone Pietro and the padrone!" ex 
 claimed Phil, pale with affright. 
 
 Mrs. McGuire took in the situation at once. 
 
 " Run upstairs," she said. " Pat s up there on the 
 bed. He will see they don t take you." 
 
 Phil sprang upstairs two steps at a time, and 
 dashed into the chamber. Mr. McGuire was lying on 
 the bed, smoking a clay pipe. 
 
 "What s the matther?" he asked, repeating his 
 wife s question. 
 
 " They have come for me," said Phil. 
 
 "Have they?" said Pat. " Then they ll go back, 
 I m thinkin . "Where are they?" 
 
 But there was no need of a reply, as their voices 
 were already audible from below, talking with Mrs. 
 McGuire. The distance was so trifling, that they had 
 seen Phil enter the house, and the padrone, having a 
 
230 PHIL, THE FIDDLEIi; OX, 
 
 contempt for the physical powers of woman, followed 
 boldly. 
 
 They met Mrs. McGuire at the door. 
 
 u What do ye want? " she demanded. 
 
 " The boy," said the padrone. " I saw him come 
 in here." 
 
 " Did ye? Your eyes is sharp thin." 
 
 She stood directly in the passage, so that neither 
 could enter without brushing her aside. 
 
 " Send him out," said the padrone. 
 
 " Faith, and I won t," said Bridget. " lie shall 
 stay here as long as he likes." 
 
 " I will come in and take him," said the padrone, 
 furiously. 
 
 " I wouldn t advise ye to thry it," said Mrs. 
 McGuire, coolly. 
 
 " Move aside, woman, or I will make you," said 
 the Italian, angrily. 
 
 " I ll stay where I am. Shure it s my own house, 
 and I have a right to do it." 
 
 " Pietro," said the padrone, with sudden thought, 
 " he may escape from the front door. Go round and 
 watch it." 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 231 
 
 By his sign Bridget guessed what he said, though 
 it rras spoken in Italian. 
 
 " He won t run away," she said. u I ll tell you 
 where he is, if you want to know." 
 
 " Where?" asked the padrone, eagerly. 
 
 " He s upstairs, thin." 
 
 The padrone would not be restrained any longer. 
 He made a rush forward, and, pushing Mrs. McGuire 
 aside, sprang up the stairs. He would have found 
 greater difficulty in doing this, but Bridget, knowing 
 her husband was upstairs, made little resistance, and 
 contented herself, after the padrone had passed, with 
 intercepting Pietro, and clutching him vigorously by 
 the hair, to his great discomfort, screaming " Mur- 
 ther ! " at the top of her lungs. 
 
 The padrone heard the cry, but in his impetuosity 
 he did not heed it. He expected to gain an easy 
 victory over Phil, whom he supposed to be alone iu 
 the chamber. He sprang towards him, but had 
 barely seized him by the arm, when the gigantic 
 form of the Irishman appeared, and the padrone 
 found himself in his powerful grasp. 
 
 "What business have ye here, you bloody 
 
232 PHIL, THE FIDDLER , OR) 
 
 villain?" demanded Pat; " breakin into an honest 
 man s house, without lave or license. I ll tache you 
 manners, you baste ! " 
 
 u Give me the boy ! " gasped the padrone. 
 
 " You can t have him, thin ! " said Pat. " You 
 want to bate him, you murderin ould villain ! " 
 
 " I ll have you arrested," said the padrone, furi 
 ously, writhing vainly to get himself free. He was 
 almost beside himself that Phil should be the witness 
 of his humiliation. 
 
 "Will you, thin?" demanded Pat. "Thin the 
 sooner you do it the betther. Open the window, 
 Phil ! " 
 
 Phil obeyed, not knowing why the request was 
 made. Pie was soon enlightened. The Irishman 
 seized the padrone, and, lifting him from the floor, 
 carried him to the window despite his struggles, and, 
 thrusting him out, let him drop. It was only the 
 second story, and there was no danger of serious 
 Injury. The padrone picked himself up, only to meet 
 mih another disaster. A passing policeman had 
 beard Mrs. McGuire s cries, and on hearing her ac 
 count had arrested Pietro, and was just in time to 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUS1LIAN. 233 
 
 arrest the padrone also, on the charge of forcibly 
 entering the house. As the guardian of the peace 
 marched off with Pietro on one side and the padrone 
 on the other, Mrs. McGuire sat down on a chair, and 
 laughed till she cried. 
 
 " Shure they won t come for you ag in in a hurry, 
 Phil, darlint ! " she said. " They ve got all they 
 want, I m thmkin ." 
 
 I may add that the pair were confined in the 
 station-house over night, and the next day were 
 brought before a justice, reprimanded and fined. 
 
234 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; 
 
 CHATTER XXIV. 
 
 THE DEATH OF GIACOMO. 
 
 GREAT was the astonishment at the Italian 
 lodging-house that night when neither the padrone 
 nor Pietro made his appearance. Great was the joy 
 also, for the nightly punishments were also neces 
 sarily omitted, and the boys had no one to pay their 
 money to. There was another circumstance not so 
 agreeable. All the provisions were locked up, and 
 there was no supper for the hungiy children. Finally, 
 at half-past eleven, three boys, bolder than the rest, 
 went out, and at last succeeded in obtaining some 
 bread and crackers at an oyster-saloon, in sufficient 
 quantities to supply all their comrades. After eating 
 heartily they went to bed, and for one night the es 
 tablishment ran itself much more satisfactorily to the 
 boys than if the padrone had been present 
 
 The next morning the boys went out as usual, 
 having again bought their breakfast and dispersed 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN". 235 
 
 themselves about the city and vicinity, heartily hop 
 ing that this state of things might continue. But 
 it was too good to last. When they returned at 
 evening they found their old enemy in command, 
 lie looked more ill-tempered and sourer than ever, 
 but gave no explanation of his and Pietro s absence, 
 except to say that he had been out of the city on 
 business. He called for the boys earnings of the 
 day previous, but to their surprise made no inquiries 
 about how they had supplied themselves with supper 
 or breakfast. He felt that his influence over the 
 boys, and the terror which he delighted to inspire in 
 them, would be lessened if they should learn that he 
 had been arrested and punished. The boys were 
 accustomed to look upon him as possessed of absolute 
 power over them, and almost regarded him as above 
 law, 
 
 Pietro, too, was silent, partly for the same reasons 
 which influenced the padrone, partly because he 
 was afraid of offending his uncle. 
 
 Meanwhile poor Giacomo remained sick. If he 
 had been as robust and strong as Phil, he would have 
 recovered, bit: he was naturally delicate, and ex 
 
236 p/7/z, THE FIDDLER; ox, 
 
 posure_and_insufScient food had_ donejheir work o u ty 
 too well. 
 
 Four days afterwards (to advance the story a 
 little) one of the boys came to the padrone in the 
 morning, saying, " Signore padrone, Giacomo is 
 much worse. I think he is going to die." 
 
 "Nonsense!" said the padrone, angrily. " He is 
 only pretending to be sick, so that he need riot work. 
 I have lost enough by him already." 
 
 Nevertheless he went to the little boy s bedside. 
 
 Giacomo was breathing faintly. His face was 
 painfully thin, his eyes preternaturally bright. He 
 spoke faintly, but his mind seemed to be wandering. 
 
 "Where is Filippo?" he said. "I want to see 
 Filippo." 
 
 In this wish the padrone heartily concurred. He, 
 too, would have been glad to see Filippo, but the 
 pleasure would not have been mutual. 
 
 "Why do you want to see Filippo?" he demanded, 
 in his customary harsh tone. 
 
 Giacomo heard and answered, though unconscious 
 who spoke to him. 
 
 " I want to kiss him before I die," he said , 
 
THE I DUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 237 
 
 "What makes you think you are going to die?" 
 said the padrone, struck in spite of himself by the 
 boy s appearance. 
 
 " I am so weak," murmured Giacomo. " Stoop 
 down, Filippo. I want to tell you something in your 
 ear." 
 
 Moved by curiosity rather than humanity, the pa 
 drone stooped over, and Giacomo whispered : 
 
 " When you go back to Italy, dear Filippo, go and 
 tell my mother how I died. Tell her not to let my 
 father sell my little brother to a padrone, or he may 
 die far away, as I am dying. Promise me, Filip 
 
 There was no answer. The padrone did indeed 
 feel a slight emotion of pity, but it was unhappily 
 transient. Giacomo did not observe that the ques 
 tion was not answered. 
 
 " Kiss me, Filippo," said the dying boy. 
 
 One of the boys who stood near by, with tears in 
 his e} T es, bent over and kissed him. 
 
 Giacomo smiled. He thought it was Filippo. 
 
 Jut 
 
 With that smile on his face, he gave one quick gasp 
 
238 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; on, 
 
 and died, a victim of the padrone s tyranny and his 
 father s cupidity.* 
 
 Death came to Giacomo as a friend. No longer 
 could he be forced out into the streets to suffer cold 
 and fatigue, and at night inhuman treatment and 
 abuse. His slavery was at an end. 
 
 "We go back now to Phil. Though he and his 
 friends had again gained a victory over Pictro and 
 the padrone, he thought it would not be prudent to 
 remain in Newark any longer. lie knew the re 
 vengeful spirit of his tyrants, and dreaded the chance 
 of again falling into their hands. He must of course 
 be exposed to the risk of capture while plying his 
 vocation in the public streets. Therefore he resisted 
 the invitation of his warm-hearted protectors to make 
 his home with them, and decided to wander farther 
 away from New York. 
 
 * It is the testimony of an eminent Neapolitan physician 
 (1 quote from Signor Casali, editor of UEco d Italia*) that of 
 one hundred Italian children who are sold by their parents into 
 this white slavery, but twenty ever return home; thirty gro-tf 
 up and adopt various occupations abroad, and fifty succumb to 
 maladies produced by privation and exposure. 
 
1XS, TctfA G STREET MUSICIAN". 239 
 
 i l^ v,"U *. claj , therefore, he went to the railway 
 jUtJOi., ani? bought a ticket for a place ten milea 
 further t *\. 7"hi3 he decided would be far enough to 
 Le safe. 
 
 Getting out of the train, he found himself in a vil 
 lage of moderate size. Phil looked around him with 
 interest. He had the fondness, natural to his age, 
 for seeing new places. He soon came to a school- 
 house. It was only quarter of nine, and some of the 
 boys were playing outside. Phil leaned against a 
 tree and looked on. 
 
 Though he was at an age when bo} S enjoy play 
 better than work or study, he had no opportunity to 
 join in their games. 
 
 One of the boys, observing him, came up and said 
 frankly, " Do you want to play with us? " 
 
 "Yes," said Phil, brightening up, "I should like 
 to." 
 
 " Come on, then." 
 
 Phil looked at his fiddle and hesitated. 
 
 " Oh, I ll take care of your fiddle for you. Here, 
 this tree is hollow ; just put it inside, and nobody 
 will touch it." 
 
240 PRIL, THE FIDDLER; ox, 
 
 Phil needed no second invitation. Sure of tho 
 safety of his fiddle, which was all important to him 
 since it procured for him bis livelihood, he joined in 
 the game with zest. It was so simple that he easily 
 understood it. His laugh was as loud and merry as 
 any of the rest, and his face glowed with enjoyment. 
 
 It does not take long for boys to become acquainted. 
 In the brief time before the teacher s arrival, Phil 
 became on good terms with the school-boys, and the 
 one who had first invited him to join them, said, 
 " Come into school with us. You shall sit in my 
 seat." 
 
 "Will he let me?" asked Phil, pointing to tho 
 teacher. 
 
 " To be sure he will. Come along." 
 
 Phil took his fiddle from its hiding-place in the 
 interior of the tree, and walked beside his companion 
 into the school-room. 
 
 It was the first time he had ever been in a school 
 room before, and he looked about him w r ith curiosity 
 at the desks, and the maps hanging on tho walls. 
 The blackboards, too, he regarded with surprise, not 
 understanding their use. 
 
THE JOUNO STREET MUSICIAN. 241 
 
 After the opening exercises were concluded, the 
 teacher, whose attention had been directed to the new 
 comer, walked up to the desk where he was seated. 
 Phil was a little alarmed, for, associating him with hia 
 recollections of the padrone, he did not know but that 
 he would be punished for his temerity in entering 
 without the teacher s invitation. 
 
 But he was soon reassured by the pleasant tone in 
 which he was addressed. 
 
 " What is your name, my young friend? " 
 
 " Filippo." 
 
 " You are an Italian, I suppose." 
 
 "Si, signore." 
 
 " Does that mean Yes, sir?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered Phil, remembering to speak 
 English. 
 
 " Is that your violin?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Where do you live?" 
 
 Phil hesitated. 
 
 "I am travelling," he said at last. 
 
 " You are young to travel alone. How long hart 
 you been in this country ? " 
 
242 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; o, 
 
 " A year." 
 
 "And have you been travelling about all tliat 
 time?" 
 
 " No, signore ; I have lived in New York." 
 
 " I suppose you have not gone to school." 
 
 u No, signore." 
 
 " Well, I am glad to see you here ; I shall be glad 
 to have } ou stay, and listen to our exercises." 
 
 The teacher walked back to his desk, and the 
 lessons began. Phil listened with curiosity and atten 
 tion. For the first time in his life he felt ashamed 
 of his own ignorance, and wished he, too, might have 
 a chance to learn, as the children around him were 
 doing. But they hnd homes and parents to supply 
 their wants, while he must work for his livelihood. 
 
 After a time,reeess came. Then the boys gathered 
 around, and asked Phil to play them a tune. 
 
 " Will he let me?" asked the young fiddler, again 
 referring to the teacher. 
 
 The latter being applied to, readily consented, 
 and expressed his own wish to hear Phil. So the 
 young minstrel played and sung several tunes to the 
 group of children who gathered around him. Time 
 
THS YOUNO STREET MUSICIAN. 243 
 
 passed rapidly, and the recess was over before the 
 children anticipated it. 
 
 " I am sorry to disturb your enjoyment," said the 
 teacher ; " but duty before pleasure, you know. I 
 will only suggest that, as our young friend here de 
 pends on his violin for support, we ought to collect a 
 little money for him. James Reynolds, suppose you 
 pass around your hat for contributions. Come to me 
 first." 
 
 The united offerings, though small individually, 
 amounted to a dollar, which Phil pocketed with much 
 satisfaction. He did not remain after recess, but re 
 sumed his wanderings, and about noon entered a 
 grocery store, where he made a hearty lunch. Thus 
 far good fortune attended him, but the time was com 
 ing, and that before long, when life would wear a les 
 sunny aspect. 
 
244 PHIL* THE FIDDLER; ox. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 DR. DI?AYTON S CHRISTMAS GIFT. 
 
 IT was the evening before Christinas. Until 
 to-day the winter had been an open one, but about 
 one o clock in the afternoon the snow began to fall. 
 The flakes came thicker and faster, and it soon be 
 came evident that an old-fashioned snow-storm had 
 set in. By seven o clock the snow lay a foot deep on 
 a level, but in some places considerably deeper, for a 
 brisk wind had piled it up in places. 
 
 In a handsome house, some rods back from the 
 village street, lived Dr. Drayton, a physician, whose 
 skill was so well appreciated that he had ahead} 7 , 
 though still in the prime of life, accumulated a hand 
 some competence. 
 
 lie sat this evening in his library, in dressing- 
 gown and slippers, his wife near by engaged on some 
 needle-work. 
 
 41 1 hope you won t be called out this evening, 
 
a 
 * 
 
 THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 245 
 
 Joseph," said Mrs. Drayton, as a gust of wind 
 rattled the window-panes. 
 
 " I echo that wish, my dear," said the doctor, 
 looking up from the last number of the u Atlantic 
 Monthly.* u I find it much more comfortable sitting 
 here, reading Dr. Holmes last article." 
 
 The snow must be quite deep." 
 " It is. I found my ride from the north village 
 this afternoon bleak enough. You know how the wind 
 sweeps across the road near the Pond school-house. 
 I believe there is to be a Christmas-eve celebration 
 in the Town Hall this evening, is there not? " 
 
 " No ; it has been postponed till to-morrow even- 
 ing." 
 
 " That will be better. The weather and walking 
 will both be bettor. Shall we go, Mary ? " 
 " If you wish it," she said, hesitatingly. 
 Her husband understood her hesitation. Christmas 
 day was a sad anniversary to them. Four years 
 before, their onty son Walter, a boy of eight, had died 
 just as the Christmas church-bells were ringing out 
 a summons to church. Since then the house had 
 been a silent one, the quiet unbroken by childish 
 
246 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; o#, 
 
 JK>Ne and merriment. Much as the doctor and hig 
 wife were to each other, both felt the void which 
 Walter s death had created, and especially as the 
 anniversary came round, which called to mind their 
 great loss. 
 
 " I think we had better go," said the doctor ; 
 " though God has bereft us of our own child, it will 
 be pleasant for us to watch the happy faces of 
 others." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right, Joseph." 
 Half an hour passed. The doctor continued read 
 ing the "Atlantic," while his wife, occupied with 
 thoughts which the conversation had called up, kept 
 on with her work. 
 
 Just then the bell was heard to ring. 
 " I hope it is not for you, Joseph," said his wife, 
 apprehensively. 
 
 " I am afraid it is," said the doctor, with a look of 
 resignation. " I thought it would be too good luck 
 for me to have the whole evening to myself." 
 
 " I wish you were not a doctor," said Mrs. Dray- 
 ton. 
 
 " It is rather too late to change ray profession, my 
 
THE YOUA G STREET MUSICIAN, 247 
 
 d3ai," said her husband, good-humoredly. u I shall be 
 fifty next birthday. To be sure, Ellen Jones tells 
 me that in her class at the Normal School there is a 
 maiden lady of sixty-two, who has just begun to pre 
 pare herself for the profession of a teacher. I am 
 not quite so old as that." 
 
 Here the servant opened the door, ushering in a 
 farm-laborer. 
 
 " Good evening, Abner," said the doctor, recogniz 
 ing him, as indeed he knew every face within half-a- 
 dozen miles. " Anything amiss at home?" 
 
 " Mrs. Felton is took with spasms," said Abner. 
 * Can you come right over ? " 
 
 " What have 3-011 done for her ? " 
 
 u Put her feet in warm water, and put her to bed. 
 Can you come right over ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the doctor, rising and exchanging his 
 dressing-gown for a coat, and drawing on his boots. 
 * I will go as soon as my horse is ready." 
 
 Orders were sent out to put the horse in the sleigh. 
 This was quickly done, and the doctor fully ao- 
 couf-red walked to the door. 
 
248 PHIL) THE FIDDLER; OT?, 
 
 " I shall be back as soon as I can, Mary," he 
 said. 
 
 "That won t be very soon. It is a good two- 
 Biles ride." 
 
 " I shan t loiter on the way, you may be sure of 
 that. Abner, I am ready." 
 
 The snow was still falling, but not quite so fast 
 as early in the afternoon. The wind, however, blew 
 quite as hard, and the doctor found all his wrappings 
 needful. 
 
 At intervals on the road he came to deep drifts of 
 snow, through which the horse had some difficulty in 
 drawing the sleigh, but at length he arrived at the 
 door of his patient. He found that the violence of 
 her attack was over, and, satisfied of this, left a few 
 simple directions, which he considered sufficient. 
 Nature would do the rest. 
 
 " Now for home ! " he said to himself. " I hope 
 this will be my last professional call this evening. 
 Mary will be impatient for my return." 
 
 lie gave the reins to his horse, who appeared to 
 feel that he was bound homeward, and travelled with 
 more alacrity than he had come. lie, too, no doubt 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN . 249 
 
 shared the doctor s hope that this was the last service 
 required of him before the morrow. 
 
 Doctor Drayton had completed rather more than 
 half his journey, when, looking to the right, his atten 
 tion was drawn to a small, dark object, nearly 
 covered with snow. 
 
 Instinctively he reined up -his horse. 
 
 " Good heavens ! " he exclaimed, " it must be a 
 boy. God grant he is not frozen ! " 
 
 He leaped from the sleigh, and lifted the insensible 
 tody. 
 
 " It is an Italian boy, and here is his violin. The 
 poor child may be dead," he said to himself in a 
 startled tone. "I must carry him home, and see 
 what I can do for him." 
 
 So he took up tenderly our young hero, for our 
 readers will have guessed that it was Phil, and put 
 both him and his violin into the sleigh. Then he 
 drove home with a speed which astonished even his 
 horse, who, though anxious to reach his comfortable 
 stable, would not voluntarily have put forth so great 
 an exertion as was now required of him. 
 
 I must explain that Phil had for the last ten days 
 
2^0 PIIIL, THE FIDDLER; on y 
 
 been travelling about the country, getting on coin* 
 fortably while the ground was bare of snow. To-daj r , 
 however, had proved very uncomfortable. In the 
 city the snow would have been cleared off, and would 
 not have interfered so much with travelling. 
 
 lie had bought some supper at a grocery store, and, 
 after spending an hour there, had set out again on hi g 
 wanderings. He found the walking so bad, that he 
 made up his mind to apply for a lodging at a house 
 not far back ; but a fierce dog, by his barking, had 
 deterred him from the application. The road was 
 lonely, and he had seen no other house since. Finally, 
 exhausted by the effort of dragging himself through 
 the deep snow, and, stiff with cold, he sank down by 
 the side of the road, and would doubtless have frozen 
 had not the doctor made his appearance opportunely. 
 
 Mrs. Drayton was alarmed when her husband 
 entered the sitting-room, bearing Phil s insensible 
 form. 
 
 She jumped to her feet in alarm. 
 
 " Who is it, Joseph? " she asked. 
 
 <r> A poor Italian boy, whom I found by the side 01 
 the road." 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 251 
 
 " Is he dead?" asked the doctor s wife, quickly. 
 
 u I think not. I will restore him if there is any 
 life left in him." 
 
 It was fortunate for Phil that he had been dis 
 covered by a skilful physician, who knew the most 
 effectual means of bringing him to. The flame of 
 life was burning low, and a little longer exposure 
 would have closed the earthly career of our young 
 hero. But he was spared, as we hope, for a happy 
 and useful career. 
 
 By the application of powerful restoratives, Phil 
 was at length brought round. His chilled limbs grew 
 warm, and his heart began to beat more steadily and 
 strongly. A bed was brought down to the sitting- 
 room, and he was placed in it. 
 
 " Where am I?" he asked faintly, when he opened 
 his eyes. 
 
 " You are with friends, my boy. Don t ask ques 
 tions now. In the morning, you may ask as many as 
 you like." 
 
 Phil closed his eyes languidly, and soon fell into a 
 sound sleep Nature was doing her work well, and 
 rapidly. 
 
252 PHIL, THE FIDDLER, OR, 
 
 In the morning Phil woke up almost wholly 
 r estored. 
 
 As he opened his eyes, they met the kind glances 
 of the doctor and his wife. 
 
 " How do you feel this morning ? * asked the 
 doctor. 
 
 " I feel well," said Phil, looking around him 
 with curiosity. 
 
 "Do you think you could eat some breakfast?" 
 asked Dr. Drayton, with a smile. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Phil. 
 
 " Then, my lad, I think I can promise you some ag 
 soon as you are dressed. But I see from your looks 
 you want to know where you are, and how you came 
 here. Don t you remember the snow-storm yester 
 day?" 
 
 Phil shuddered. He remembered it well. 
 
 " I found you lying by the side of the road about 
 half-past eight in the evening. I suppose you don* 
 remember my picking you up ? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " You were insensible. I was afraid at first yor 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 253 
 
 were frozen. But I brought you home, and, thanks to 
 Providence, you are all right again. 
 
 " Where is my fiddle? " asked Phil, anxiously. 
 
 u It is safe. There it is on the piano." 
 
 Phil was relieved to see that his faithful companion 
 was safe. Pie looked upon it as his stock in trade, 
 for without it he would not have known how to make 
 his livelihood. 
 
 He dressed quickly, and was soon seated at the 
 doctor s well-spread table. He soon showed that, in 
 spite of his exposure and narrow escape from death, 
 he had a hearty appetite. Mrs. Drayton saw him eat 
 with true motherly pleasure, and her natural love of 
 children drew her towards our young hero, and would 
 have done so even had he been less attractive. 
 
 " Joseph," she said, addressing her husband, " I 
 want to speak to you a moment." 
 
 He followed her out of the room. 
 
 "Well, my dear?" he said. 
 
 u I want to ask a favor." 
 
 " It is granted in advance." 
 
 " Perhaps you will not say so when you know what 
 it is." 
 
254 
 
 PHIL, TJIE FIDDLE It; 
 
 " I can guess it. You want to keep this boy." 
 " Are you willing?" 
 
 " I would have proposed it, if you had not. lie is 
 without friends and poor. We have enough and to 
 spare. We will adopt him in place of our lost 
 Walter." 
 
 " Thank you, Joseph. It will make me happy. 
 Whatever I do for him, I will do as for my lost 
 darling." 
 
 They went back into the room. They found Phil 
 with his cap on, and his fiddle under his arm. 
 
 "Where are you going, Philip?" asked the doc- 
 tor. 
 
 "I am going into the street. I thank you for 
 your kindness." 
 
 " Would you not rather stay with us?" 
 Phil looked up, uncertain of his meaning. 
 " We had a boy once, but he is dead. Will you 
 stay with us, and be our boy ? " 
 
 Phil looked in the kind faces of the doctor and his 
 wife, and his face lighted up with joy at the unex 
 pected prospect of such a home, with people who 
 would be kind to him. 
 
THE YOVNG STREET MUSICIAN. 255 
 
 " I will stay." he said. " You are _yery___kind__tp 
 me." 
 
 So our little hero had drifted into a snug harbor. 
 His toils and privations were over. And for the 
 doctor and his wife it was a glad day also. On 
 Christmas day four } T ears before they had lost a child 
 On this Christmas God had sent them another to fill 
 the void in their hearts. 
 
256 PHIL) TUB FIDDLER; on* 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 IT was a strange thing for the homeless fiddler to 
 find himself the object of affectionate care and solici 
 tude, to feel when he woke up in the morning no 
 anxiety about the day s success. He could not have 
 found a better home. Naturally attractive, and with 
 out serious faults, Phil soon won his way to the 
 hearts of the good doctor, and his wife^ The house 
 seemed brighter for his presence, and the void in the 
 heart of the bereaved mother was partially filled. 
 Her lost "Walter would have been of the same age as 
 Phil, had he lived. For his sake she determined to 
 treat the boy, who seemed cast by Providence upon 
 her protection, as a son. 
 
 To begin with, Phil was carried to the village 
 tailor, where an ample wardrobe was ordered for him. 
 His old clothes were not cast aside, but kept in re 
 membrance of his appearance at the time he came 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 25? 
 
 to them. It wa* a novel sensation for Phil, when, 
 in his new suit, TV ith a satchel of books in his hand, 
 he set out for the town school. It is needless to say 
 that his education was very defective, but he was 
 far from deficient in natural ability, and the prog 
 ress he made was so rapid, that in a year he was on 
 an equal footing with the average of boys at his age. 
 He was able at that time to speak English as fluently 
 as his companions, and, but for his dark eyes, and 
 clear brown complexion, he might have been mistaken 
 for an American boy. 
 
 His popularitjr w ith his school-fellows was instant 
 and decided. His good Irnnor and lively disposition 
 might readily account for that, even if his position 
 as the adopted son of a prominent citizen had no 
 effect. But it was understood that the doctor, who 
 had no near relatives, intended to treat Phil in all 
 respects as a son, even to leaving him his heir. 
 
 I may be asked whether the padrone gave up all 
 efforts to recover the young fiddler. He was too vin 
 dictive for this. Boys had run away from him be 
 fore, but none had subjected him to such ignominious 
 failure in the effort for their recovery. It would have 
 
258 PHIL, THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 fared ill with our young hero if he had fallen again 
 into the hands of his unscrupulous enemy. But the 
 padrone was not destined to recover him. Day after 
 day Pietro explored the neighboring towns, but all 
 to no purpose. He only visited the principal towns, 
 while Phil was in a small town, not likely to attract 
 the attention of his pursuers. 
 
 A week after his signal failure in Newark, the 
 padrone inserted an advertisement in the " New York 
 Herald," offering a reward of twenty-five dollars for 
 the recovery of Phil. But our young hero was at 
 that time wandering about the country, and the ad 
 vertisement did not fall under the eye of those with 
 whom he came in contact. At length the padrone 
 was compelled to own himself baffled, and give up 
 the search. He was not without hopes, however, 
 that some time Phil would turn up. He did hear of 
 him again through Pietro, but not in a way to bring 
 him any nearer his recovery. 
 
 This is the way it happened : 
 
 One Saturday morning in March, about three 
 months after Phil had found a home, the doctor said 
 to him, " Phil, I am going to New York this morning 
 
THE YOFNG STREET MUSICIAN. 259 
 
 on a little business ; would you like to come with 
 me?" 
 
 Phil s eyes brightened. Though he was happy in 
 his village home, he had longed at times to find him 
 self in the city streets with which his old vagabond 
 life had rendered him so familiar. 
 
 " I should like it very much," he answered eagerly. 
 
 " Then run upstairs and get ready. I shall start in 
 fifteen minutes." 
 
 Phil started, and then turned back. 
 
 " I might meet Pictro, or the padrone," he said, hes 
 itating. 
 
 " No matter if you do. I shall be with you. If they 
 attempt to recover you, I will summon the police." 
 
 The doctor spoke so confidently, that Phil dismissed 
 his momentary fear. Two hours later they set foot in 
 New York. 
 
 " Now, Phil," said the doctor, " my business will 
 not take long. After that, if there are any friends you 
 would like to see, I will go with you, and find them." 
 
 " I should like to see Paul Hoffman," said Phil. " I 
 owe him two dollars and a half for the fiddle." 
 
260 PHIL, THE FIDDLER I OR, 
 
 " He shall be paid," said the doctor. " lie shall 
 lose nothing by trusting you." 
 
 An hour afterwards, while walking with the doctor 
 in a side street, Phil s attention was attracted by the 
 notes of a hand-organ. Turning in the direction from 
 which it came, he met the glance of his old enemy, 
 Pietro. 
 
 "It is Pietro," he said quickly, touching the arm 
 of his companion. 
 
 Pietro had not been certain till then that it was 
 Phil. It looked like him, to be sure, but his new 
 clothing and general appearance made such a differ 
 ence between him and the Phil of former days, that 
 he would have supposed it only an accidental resem 
 blance. But Phil s evident recognition of him con 
 vinced him of his identity. He instantly ceased play 
 ing, and with eager exultation advanced to capture 
 him. Phil would have been alarmed, but for his con 
 fidence in the doctor s protection. 
 
 "I have got you at last, scelerato." said Pietro, 
 roughly grasping Phil by the shoulder. 
 
 The doctor instantly seized him by the collar, and 
 hurled him back. 
 
THE XOUNQ STREET MUSICIAN. 261 
 
 "What do you mean by assaulting my son?" he 
 demanded, coolly. 
 
 Pictro was rather astonished at this unexpected 
 attack. 
 
 " He is m}*- brother," he said. " He must go back 
 with me." 
 
 " He is not your brother. If you touch him again, 
 I will hand you to the police." 
 
 " He ran away from my uncle," said Pietro. 
 
 " Then your uncle should have treated him better." 
 
 " He stole a fiddle," persisted Pietro, doggedly. 
 
 " lie had paid for it overjmd over againj"_said the 
 doctor. " Phil, come along. We have no further 
 business with this young man." 
 
 They walked on, but Pietro followed at a little 
 distance. Seeing this, Dr. Dray ton turned back. 
 
 "Young man," he said, "do you see that police 
 man across the street ? " 
 
 " Si, signore," answered Pietro. 
 
 44 Then I advise you to go in a different direction, 
 or I shall request him to follow you." 
 
 Pietro s sallow face was pale with rage. He felt 
 angry enough to tear Phil to pieces, but his rage waa 
 
2C2 p/7/i, THE FIDDLER; OR, 
 
 unavailing. He bad a wholesome fear of the police, 
 and the doctor s threat was effectual. He turned 
 away, though with reluctance, and Phil breathed more 
 freely. Pietro communicated his information to the 
 padrone, and the latter, finding that Phil had found a 
 powerful protector, saw that it would be dangerous 
 for him to cary the matter any further, and sensibly 
 resolved to give up the chase. 
 
 Of the padrone I have only further to say, that 
 some months later he got into trouble. In a low drink 
 ing saloon an altercation arose between him and an 
 other ruffian one evening, when the padrone, in his 
 rage, drew a knife, and stabbed his adversary. He 
 was arrested, and is now serving out his sentence at 
 Sing Sing. Pietro, by arrangement with him, took 
 his place, stipulating to pay him a certain annual sum. 
 But he has taken advantage of his uncle s incarcer 
 ation to defraud him, and after the first payment 
 neglected to make any returns. It may readily be 
 imagined that this embitters the padrone s imprison 
 ment. Knowing what I do of his fierce temper, I 
 should not be surprised to hear of a murderous 
 encounter between him and his nephew after his 
 
TITE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN. 263 
 
 release from imprisonment, unless, as is probable, 
 just before the release, Pietro should flee the country 
 with the ill-gotten gains he may have acquired during 
 his term of office. Meanwhile the boys are treated with 
 scarcely less rigor by him than by his uncle, and toil 
 early and late, suffering hardship and privations, that 
 Pietro may grow rich. 
 
 Paul Hoffman had often thought of Phil, and 
 how he had fared. He was indeed surprised and 
 pleased when the young fiddler walked up and called 
 him by name. 
 
 " Phil," he exclaimed, grasping his hand heartily, 
 " I am very glad to see you. Have you made a 
 fortune?" 
 
 " He has found a father," said Dr. Drayton, speak 
 ing for Phil, " who wants to express his gratitude to 
 you for your past kindness to his son." 
 
 " It was nothing," said Paul, modestly. 
 
 " It was a great deal to Phil, for, except youi 
 family, he had no friends." 
 
 To this Paul made a suitable reply, and gave Phu 
 and his new father an earnest invitation to dine with 
 them. This the doctor declined, but agreed to call 
 
264 P/7/Z, THE FIDDLER; ox, 
 
 at the rooms of Mrs. Hoffman, if Paul would agree 
 to come and pass the next Sunday with Phil as his 
 visitor. Paul accepted the invitation with pleasure, 
 and it is needless to say that he received a hearty 
 welcome, and agreed in. the approaching summer to 
 make another visit. 
 
 And now we bid farewell to Phil, the young street 
 musician. If his life henceforth shall be less crowded 
 with adventure, and so less interesting, it is because 
 he has been fortunate in securing a good home. Some 
 years hence the doctor promises to give himself a va 
 cation, and take Phil with him to Europe, where he 
 will seek out his Italian home, and the mother with 
 whom he has already opened communication by letter. 
 So we leave Phil in good hands, and with the prospect 
 of a prosperous career. But there are hundreds of 
 young street musicians who have not met with his good 
 fortune, but are compelled, by hard necessity, lo sub 
 mit to the same privations and hardships from which 
 he is happily relieved. May a brighter day dawn for 
 them also ! 
 
 I hope my readers feel an interest in Paul Hoffman, 
 the young street merchant, who proved so efficient a 
 
THE YOUNG STREET MUSICIAN". 265 
 
 friend to our young hero. His earlier adventures are 
 chronicl-ed in " Paul, the Peddler." His later history 
 will be chronicled in the next volume of this series, 
 which will be entitled 
 
 SLOW AND SURE ; 
 
 OR, 
 FROM THE SIDEWALK TO THE SHOP. 
 
THE 
 
 FAMOUS 
 
 CASTLEMON 
 
 BOOKS. 
 
 BY 
 
 HARRY 
 CASTLEMON. 
 
 Specimen Cover of the Gunboat 
 Series. 
 
 No author of the present day has become a greater favorite wirhboys than 
 "Harry Cistlemon; " every book by him is ute to meet with hearty re 
 ception by young readers gent- rally. H s naturalness and vivacity lead his 
 readers from pate to p.tge with breathless intertst, and when one volume is 
 finished he fascinated reader, like Oliver Twist, asks " lor more." 
 
 * # *Any volume sold separately. 
 
 GUNBOAT SERIES. By Harry Casllemon. 6 
 vols., I2ino. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed 
 
 in colors. In box $7 50 
 
 Prank, the Young Naturalist i 25 
 
 Frank in the Woods i 25 
 
 Frank on the Prairie i 25 
 
 Frank on a Gunboat I 25 
 
 Frank before Vicksburg i 25 
 
 Frank on the Lower Mississippi i 25 
 
2 HENRY T. COATES & CO. S POPULAR JUVENILES. 
 
 GO AHEAD SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 
 voK, I2mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed 
 in colors. In box $3 75 
 
 Go Ahead ; or, The Fisher Boy s Motto 125 
 
 No Moss; or, The Career of a Rolling Stone .... I 25 
 Tom Newcombe ; or, The Boy of Bad Habits . . i 25 
 
 ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES. By Harry 
 Castlemon. 3 vols., I2mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, 
 extra, printed in colors. Inbox $3 75 
 
 Frank at Don Carlos Rancho i 25 
 
 Frank among the Rancheros i 25 
 
 Frank in the Mountains i 25 
 
 SPORTSMAN S CLUB SERIES. By Harry 
 Castlemon. 3 vols., 121110. tuily illustrated. Cloth, 
 extra, printed in colors. In box $3 75 
 
 The Sportsman s Club in the Saddle .... i 25 
 
 The Sportsman s Club Afloat i 25 
 
 The Sportsman s Club among the Trappers . i 25 
 
 FRANK NELSON SERIES. By Harry Cr.sile- 
 mon. 3 vols. I2ino. Fully illustrated. Cioth, extra, 
 printed in colors. In box $3 75 
 
 Snowed Up; or, The Sportsman s Club in the Mts. . I 25 
 
 Frank Nelson in the Forecastle j or, The Sports 
 man s Club among the Whalers I 25 
 
 The Boy Traders ; or, The Sportsman s Club among 
 
 the Boers I 25 
 
 BOY TRAPPER SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 
 3 vols., I2mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed 
 in colors. In box $3 75 
 
 The Buried Treas are ; or, Oil Jordan s "Haunt" i 25 
 The Boy Trapper; or, How Dave Filled the Order . i 25 
 The Mail Carrier i 25 
 
HENRY T. COATES & CO. S POPULAR JUVENILES. 3 
 
 ROtTGHINGt IT SERIES. By Harry Casllemon. 
 3 vois., I2mo. Fully illustrated. Cioih, extra, printed 
 in coloi s. In box $3 75 
 
 George in Camp ; or, Life on the Plains . . . . . i 25 
 George at the Wheel ; cr, Life in 3. Pilot House . i 25 
 George at the Fort ; or, Life Among the Soldiers . i 25 
 
 ROD AND GUN SERIES. By Harry Oastlemon. 
 3 vols., I2mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra> printed 
 in colors. In box $3 75 
 
 Don Gordon s Shooting Box i 25 
 
 Rod and Gun 4 . . . i 25 
 
 The Young "Wild Fowlers i 25 
 
 FOREST AND STREAM SERIES. IV Harry 
 Castlemon. 3 vols., I2mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, 
 extra, printed in colors. In box $3 75 
 
 Joe Wayring at Home; cr, Story of a Fly Rod . i 25 
 
 Snagged and Sunk ; or, The Adventures of a Can 
 vas L,auoe I 25 
 
 Steel Horse ; or, The Rambles of a Eicycle .... i 25 
 
 WAR SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 4 vols., 
 I2mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in 
 colors. In box 5 OO 
 
 True to his Colors i 25 
 
 Rodney, the Partisan i 25 
 
 Marcy, the Blockade Runner i 25 
 
 Marcy, the Refugee i 25 
 
 OUR FELLOWS; or, Skirmishes with the Swamp 
 Dragoons. By Harry Castlemon. i6mo. Fully illus 
 trated. Cloth, extra i 25 
 
ALGER S 
 
 RENOWNED 
 
 BOOKS. 
 
 BY 
 
 HORATIO 
 ALGER, JR. 
 
 Specimen Cover r,f the Ragged 
 Dick Series. 
 
 Horatio Alger, Jr., hns attained distinction as one o* the most popular 
 writers of hooks for boys, and the following list compri cs a]l of his best 
 books. 
 
 $** Any volume sold separately. 
 
 RAGGED DICK SERIES. Ity Horatio Alger, 
 Jr. 6 vols., I2mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, 
 printed in colors. In box 
 
 Ragged Dick ; or, Street Life in New York .... 
 
 Fame and Fortune ; or, The Progress of Richard 
 Hunter , 
 
 Mark, the Match Boy ; or, Richard Hunter s Ward 
 
 Rough and Ready ; or, Life among the New York 
 Newsboys 
 
 Ben, the Luggage Boy ; or, Among the "Wharves . 
 
 Rufus and Rose ; or, the Fortunes of Rough and 
 Ready 
 
 TATTERED TOM SERIES. (FIRST SERIES.) 
 By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols, I2mo. Fully illus 
 trated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . 
 
 (4) 
 
 $7 50 
 i 25 
 
 i 25 
 1 25 
 
 i 2 5 
 i 25 
 
 i 25 
 5 oo 
 
HENRY T. COATKS & CO. S POPULAR JUVENILES. 5 
 
 Tattered Tom ; or, The Story of a Street Arab . . I 25 
 
 Paul, the Peddler; or, The Adventures of a Young 
 
 Street Merchant < . 1 25 
 
 Phil, the Fiddler; or, The Younj Street Musician . I 25 
 
 Slow arid Sure ; or, From the Sidewalk to the Shop I 25 
 
 TATTERED TOM SERIES. (SECOND SERIES.) 
 4 vols., I2mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed 
 
 in colors. In box $5 
 
 Jalius; or the Street Boy Out West I 25 
 
 The Young Outlaw; cr, /.drift in the World ... I 25 
 
 Sam s Chance and How He Improved it ... i 25 
 
 The Telegraph Boy. -. . . i 25 
 
 LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES. (FmsT SERIES.) 
 By Horatio Algcr, Jr. 4 vols., I2mo. 1 ully illus 
 trated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box ... $5 oo 
 
 Luck and Pluck ; cr John Oakley s Inheritance . . I 25 
 
 Sink 01 Swim ; or, Harry Raymond s Resolve ... I 25 
 
 Strong and Steady ; or, Paddle Your Own Canoe . i 25 
 
 Strive and Succeed; or, The Frogre s of Walter 
 
 Conrad 12$ 
 
 LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES. (SECOND 
 SERIES.) By Horatio Alger, Jr. 3 vols, I2mo. 
 Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In 
 
 box $5 oo 
 
 Try and Trust ; or, 1 he Story of a Bound Boy ... i 25 
 
 Bound to Rise ; or Harry Walton s Motto I 25 
 
 Risen from the Ranks; or, Harry Walton s Success i 25 
 
 Herbert Carter s Legacy ; or, The Inventor s Son . i 25 
 
 CAMPAIGN SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 3 
 vols., I2mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed 
 
 in colors. In box $3 75 
 
 Prank s Campaign ; or, The Farm and the Camp . i 25 
 
 Paul Prescott s Charge i 25 
 
 Charlie Codman s Cruise I ^e 
 
6 HENRY T. COATES & CO. S POPULAR JUVENILES. 
 
 BRAVE AND BOLD SERIES. By Horatio 
 Alger, Jr. 4 vols., 121110. Ful y illustrated. Cloth, 
 extra, printed in colors. In box $5 oc 
 
 Brave and Bold ; or, The Story of a Factory Boy . . i 25 
 Jack s Ward ; or, The Boy Guardian i 25 
 
 Shifting for Himself; or, Gilbert Greyson s For 
 tunes i 25 
 
 Wait and Hope ; or, Ben Bradford s Motto .... i 25 
 
 PACIFIC SERIES By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 
 vols. I2mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed 
 in colors. In box . . , $5 oo 
 
 The Young Adventurer; or, Tom s Trip Across 
 
 the Plai; s I 25 
 
 The Young Miner; or, Tom Nelson in California . i 25 
 The Young Explorer ; or, Among the Sierras . . i 25 
 
 Ben s Nugget ; or, A Boy s Search fcr Fortune. A 
 
 Story of the Pacific Coast I 25 
 
 ATLANTIC SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 
 vols , I2mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed 
 in colors. In box $5 oo 
 
 The Young Circus Rider; or, The Mystery of 
 
 Robert Rudd I 25 
 
 Do and Dare; or, A Brave Boy s Fight for Fortune . I 25 
 Hector s Inheritance ; or, Boys cf Smith Institute . i 25 
 Helping Himself ; or, Grant Thornton s Ambition . i 25 
 
 "WAY TO SUCCESS SERIES. By Horatio 
 Alger, |r 4 vols., I2mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, 
 extra, printed in colors. In box $5 oo 
 
 Bob Burton i 25 
 
 The Store Boy i 25 
 
 Luke Walton i 25 
 
 Struggling Upward I 25 
 
 NEW BOOK BY ALGER. 
 
 DIGGING FOR GOLD. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 
 Illustrated 1 2mo. Clcth, Hack, red and gold ... I 25 
 
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