A MODERN MUSICAL NOVEL.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2142, 6 January 1881, Page 3

A MODERN MUSICAL NOVEL.

Ohapteb I. She was alone in the world. Her various relatives had gradually passed away, and by a strange coincidence, just as the last one passed, she found herself alone. Alone, did we say ? Yet not utterly, for her dear piano was left her, and, seating herself before it, she softly played the one sweet air, the only one that she played completely. It was true that it was rumored that the mortality among her relatives was attributed to too often listening to the strain of this lovely norceau ; but, nevertheless, it brought back to her tender memories of childhood, and she played it to herself dreamin ly—- “ The Maiden’s Prayer." Ohapteb 11. “ Mabel, play mo that strain again." It was a young man who spoke, and he leaned over the piano and watched her delicate fingers meander over the bass notes in the romantic cross-hand movement. “Ah! Henri," responded Mabel “I could play it to yon for ever.” A slight shudder crossed the marble brow of the young man, as he responded, “ It seems to me to be a tone picture of unequalled beauty. Observe these flights of the right hand into the highest notes; even so might a pure prayer rise into the heights of the blue empyrean.” “But see, Henri,” said the maid; “now the melody is hid beneath the deep notes of the bass.” “ And, even so, the highest thoughts must fall again to earth, and seek the practical. Mabel, we are poor. I am an inventor, and yet hope to perfect my delicious steam Calliope, which will bring me fame and fortune ; till then—adieu! Accept this as a last memento of one who loves you fondly.” He was gone. She tearfully opened the package. It contained a small musical box, which played two tunes—“ Then you’ll remember me” and “The sweet by-and-bye ’’ — sad reminders of his affection and hopes. Ohapteb 111. Five years had passed. Mabel Jangleure was no longer young, but she was interesting, and full of witching grace. She had boldly faced fortune, and had turned music teacher. Many, many pupils had come to her, and she had taught them all—“ La Priere d'une Yierge.” She was no longer poor, but her heart was povertystricken indeed. At night she would sit in her solitary abode and play the well-remem-bored morceau (she know it by heart now), and would grind out the two airs from her beloved musical box. She sat one evening, slowly grinding. Her thoughts were far away as she fAirnod the crank : “Then you 11 remem —" “ Mabel Jangleure! ” “ Henri de Homboge! ” And they were in each other’s arms. “ I have come to claim you, my own,” said he, “I am able to marry now.” “O Henri,” sobbed Mabel, as her arms timidly encircled his nock, and her fingers played “The Maiden’s Prayer" on his back, “has the Calliope succeeded?” “No, my darling,” was the response, “I have invonted a method which will teach anybody to play tbs piano thoroughly in half an hour, and I am rich ? ” They are wedded new, and their life since then has been one round of bliss, only made more perfect by the sweet sounds of the tune which had hallowed the days of their younger love.