The Little Gold Miners of the Sierras and Other Stories

by Miller, Joaquin

  No one who saw that tiny boy with his pleading eyes, and his rich, soft voice and his broken foreign accent, as he stood half clad in the chill of that November night, can ever forget the picture. They were at a loss to know what to do. They said, "But we don't want to hear your fiddle. Where did you come from, and what is your name, and where are you going? It is night and where will you sleep?"

  "Me come from Naple," he said; and holding out his little brown hands he displayed the scratches and said, "Me big brothers beat me, and scratch me, and me run away."

  "But where did you come from?" a half a dozen eager girls asked all at once.

  "Me don't know. Me sleep under cart and me very cold. Can't me play me fiddle for some supper?"

  The tears began to start not only in the eyes of the little waif, but handkerchiefs were in demand among all who stood listening to the story, forgetful of sales or profits for the moment, and intent only upon feeding the little orphan who stood before them.

  "Come," they said, "and you shall have some supper; but where will you stay to-night?"

  "Me don't know. Me mother die, me father go back to Naple, and me cry."

  The interest grew with every word he uttered, and the excitement ran high among the enthusiastic young girls, each of whom fed and petted him till the little fellow's countenance beamed with happiness. He had never fallen into such hands before, and his sorrows, like all childish sorrows, melted away under the first rays of loving kindness. He was placed on the flower-stand, and there among the flowers, in the warm, cheerful hall, he was reminded of his own beautiful Italy, the land of flowers; and the notes of his little fiddle attracted the visitors so that as the evening wore on, Dino found his friends increasing and his pockets filling with pennies, and his eyes overflowing with joy. Pointing to one of the ladies, he said in a plaintive tone, "Nobody love me, nobody smile on me but her—and my mother die and I cry."

  But the evening was wearing away. The flowers were fading, the people were leaving one by one, and the hall would soon be deserted. What then would become of poor Dino? It was decided at length, after much consultation, to place him in the Orphans' Home.

  The morning dawned and brought one of those clear, crisp November days which are common in our New England after a rain, and Dino was taken to his new home. This Home for Orphan Boys is a cosey, cheerful house, and when Dino was introduced to the kind man who has charge and told if he would be a good boy he should have a home there, have dinners and suppers, have a place to sleep like other little boys, he gave a sigh of relief, took a deliberate look around the sunny room, and then thrust his little brown chubby hand into the pocket of his torn, dilapidated trousers, and drew forth the pennies that were snugly tucked away in their depths, and with a grateful smile, his black eyes fairly dancing for joy, he handed them to the superintendent, saying, "You give me home, I give you my pennies. I was so 'fraid I freeze to death."

  It was touching to see how Dino clung to his little old fiddle. It seemed to be the one connecting link between the days in Italy where he had lived an easy, happy life with his mother whom he seemed to love so dearly, and the new home which promised to give him shelter. His little old fiddle was a source of much amusement to the children, whose tunes he readily caught, and he soon became a great favorite. The visitors who came to the Home always asked first for Dino, the Italian boy, and seldom went away without leaving something for the little fellow.

  As the days and weeks wore away, Dino constantly improved in mind and manners, and developed all the sweetness of heart and disposition that he promised on that November morning when he gave "his pennies for a home." At the end of five years he left the Home and sought a place where he could earn his own living.

  Years passed and the memory of little Dino was fading out of the hearts of those who had befriended him, when the Sabbath stillness of a midsummer afternoon was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps, as the family sat on the broad piazza of a pleasant country house. A young gentleman was seen coming up the shady avenue, and the question went around, "Who can the stranger be?"

  The bell rang and the message came: "Say to the lady, Dino would like to see her. I think she will remember the name."

  As the lady approached—she of whom he had said on that dreary night in November, "Nobody love me, nobody smile on me but her"—she recognized the Italian eyes, and the old, sweet, musical accent with which she had been familiar years before.

  With a graceful bow, he said, as if to assure himself of a welcome, "Madam, I should not have ventured in your presence if I had not been informed by my friends at the Home, upon whom I have called, that you would be glad to see me; for I felt that by my long silence I had forfeited all claim to your friendship."

  Of course he was most cordially welcomed, and invited to tell the story of his long absence. He said, "I was earning an honest living in a grocer's establishment as job-boy after I left the Home, when the idea took possession of me that I must have more education, and I knew the only way I could get it was to go into the country and work for my board where I could go to school. I found a kind old farmer who gave me board and lodging for what I could do out of schoolhours on the farm, and here I remained for some years, Then came over me the old longing for music. I had kept the little music I knew during my stay at the farm, for I had led the Sabbath choir and the Sunday-school singing, and had never missed a Sabbath while I was there. But I longed for some knowledge of music. I felt that I could not live without it, and though the kind old farmer offered me good wages if I would remain with him, and a generous sum when I should become of age, I said, 'I cannot live without music,' and so I bade adieu to my pleasant home, and went to a city where I could hear music—my heart's great desire—and take lessons as soon as I could earn money enough to pay for them. I soon found occupation, and now I am earning an honest living." He then modestly added: "Perhaps, madam, you will be gratified to learn that I have never tasted intoxicating drink, nor spoken a profane word since I left the Home. I have never forgotten the first passages of Scripture I learned from the little Bible you gave me: 'There is not a word in my tongue but lo! O Lord, thou knowest it altogether.'"

  The little Italian beggar now has a wife and a pretty little boy in a comfortable home of his own, and his testimony is, "If I had not been cared for and instructed in that Christian Home, I should be a beggar now as I was when I entered it."

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