food and medicine. Here
is also one of my tickets; come to-night; and that will admit you to a
seat near me."

Almost beside himself with joy, Pierre bought some oranges, and many a
little luxury besides, and carried them home to the poor invalid,
telling her, not without tears, of his good fortune.

* * * * *

When evening came, and Pierre was admitted to the concert hall, he felt
that never in his life had he been in so grand a place. The music, the
glare of lights, the beauty, the flashing of diamonds and the rustling
of silks, completely bewildered him. At last _she_ came; and the
child sat with his eyes riveted on her face. Could it be that the grand
lady, glittering with jewels, and whom everybody seemed to worship,
would really sing his little song?

Breathless he waited:--the band, the whole band, struck up a little
plaintive melody: he knew it, and clapped his hands for joy! And oh, how
she sang it! It was so simple, so mournful, so soul-subduing. Many a
bright eye was dimmed with tears, many a heart was moved, by the
touching words of that little song.

Pierre walked home as if he were moving on the air. What cared he for
money now? The greatest singer in Europe had sung his little song, and
thousands had wept at his grief.

The next day he was frightened by a visit from Madame Malibran. She laid
her hand on his yellow curls, and, turning to the sick woman, said:
"Your little boy, madam, has brought you a fortune. I was offered, this
morning, by the first publisher in London, a large sum for his little
song. Madam, thank God that your son has a gift from heaven."

The noble-hearted singer and the poor woman wept together. As for
Pierre, always mindful of Him who watches over the tried and the
tempted, he knelt down by his mother's bedside and uttered a simple
prayer, asking God's blessing on the kind lady who had deigned to notice
their affliction.

The memory of that prayer made the singer even more tender-hearted; and
she now went about doing good. And on her early death, he who stood by
her bed, and smoothed her pillow, and lightened her last moments by his
affection, was the little Pierre of former days,--now rich,
accomplished, and one of the most talented composers of the day.

All honor to those great hearts who, from their high stations, send down
bounty to the widow and the fatherless!

* * * * *

PIERRE (pe [^a]r'),