I was offered, this morning,
by the best publisher in London, three hundred pounds for his little song:
and after he has realized a certain amount from the sale, little Pierre,
here, is to share the profits. Madam, thank God that your son has a gift
from heaven."
The noble-hearted singer and the poor woman wept together. As to Pierre,
always mindful of Him who watches over the tried and tempted, he knelt down
by his mother's bedside, and uttered a simple but eloquent 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
who was the idol of England's nobility went about doing good. And in her
early, happy death he who stood by her bed, and smoothed her pillow, and
lightened her last moments by his undying affection, was the little Pierre
of former days--now rich, accomplished, and the most talented composer of
the day.
All honour to those great hearts who, from their high stations, send down
bounty to the widow and to the fatherless child.
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