Phil the Fiddler, Or, the Story of a Young Street Musician

Phil the Fiddler, Or, the Story of a Young Street Musician

Read FREE!

Phil the Fiddler, Or, the Story of a Young Street Musician

Phil the Fiddler, Or, the Story of a Young Street Musician

Read FREE!

Excerpt

"Viva Garibaldi!" 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. He was twelve years old, but small for 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 hardships of his lot, and these were neither few nor light, Filippo was naturally merry and light-hearted.

He wore a velveteen jacket, and pantaloons which atoned, by their extra length, for the holes resulting from hard usage and antiquity. His 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 ungracefully.

It was now ten o'clock in the morning. Two hours had elapsed since Filippo, or Phil, as I shall call him, for the benefit 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 . . .

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