Ypsilanti sentinel. [volume] (Ypsilanti, Washtenaw Co., Mich.) 1843-1900, 1845-06-11

BY MISS AUGUSTA BROWN

BY MISS AUGUSTA BROWN
The professional life os the celebrated musician,
John Bernard Logger, has been one Of most diver.
sified character, and contains many passages of
exciting interest. Through every difficulty and
obstacle he has pursued his losome research af-
ter the grand fundamental principles of harmony;
a science which, to understand intimately, requi-
res knowledge Of all the other sciences; and his
perseverance has been long since crowned with
the fullest triumph Intruth he has been to music
what Sir Isaac Newton was TO astronomy, a dis
semnator of light on subjects which were before
shrouded in mystery.
The life of a true artist, generally speaking, IS
one of constant and unappreciable toll. Little do
the public think, when listening TO soul stirring
composition. gazing With deli ght on the breath
ing canvass, or speaking marble, ofihe BRAIN labor
that has been expended on it. Could they enter
for one mor1ent into the feelings of an author as
he presents, with the 1utterDgs of hope, his mas
tereffort, they would scarcely be so chary of few
words Of encouragement which fall SO like sun
shine Oh his heart. But 10 return to L. At the
iime ofihe occurrence Of which we now speak,
he was the organist of the parish church of W.
where his family resided. This church as is YER.
y often the case in country towns, stood at a con.
siderable distance from any dwelling house, and
was approached only through an extensive burr.
al ground. To add TO its loneliness, it stood near
the seashore; 1t also reported TO be haunted by
the ghost Of suicide, who was buried outside the
graveyard fence, and who nightly frequented the
church, to sue for christian burial. 1t was even
whispered BY the peasantry that the bell had been
heard 10 toll a. midnight; probably his ghostship
thought that if he could induce the people to come
and hear his affecting case they might grant his
request; bnt all to no purpose; he still performed
his sad peregrinations alone, or it may be with a
select company of fellow unfortunatcs.
The noble proprietor of the estate, the Marquis
s. had Just presented to the church, fine new
organ, and on the coming sabbath i, was TO be
used for the first time. l.. had been absent on
business, and did not return until late on saturday
night: when learning that some ofhis arrangements
were still incomplete. he determined in spite of all
discussion, to proceed to the church himself.
Such night! The elements seemed combined
to deter him from his RASH enterprise: but boldly
wbistng to keep his courage up on he went. Ills
true, now and then, some wild German legend
would cross his mind but he only whistled more
at length he reached the long grave
yard. and, through the long graveyard, the church,
whose gray tower was occasionally visible amid
the flashes of lightning; its usual noisy inhabitants,
the rocks, were ominously still, only ut,erlng at
intervals distressing cav, as if suffering with the
bronchitis; and the hand Of the old clock pointed
10 half past cleuen! Still L. was not afraid. Oh
no !! il was chilly, and any ones teeth would chat
ter: besides the organ would take but few min-
ules to fix: and then think of tomrrow's aurels;
SO he just glanced careIessly toward the side Of
the grave yard, where the suicide was said TO be
inferred, and opening the door with key that he
kept himself entered, closing it after him, and as
cended to the organ loft. The Interior appear
ance of the church was not more cheering than
the outside. The lantern he carried did little
more than snake darkness visible" but the light
hing discovered many monumen, and effigy. land
many coat of arms with its banners pendent.
'sDoors creaked and windows capped,
And night IS foul bird rock'd in the spire.
Screamed loud"-
Amid the peaIng of the the thunder the howl
ing of the tempest, and the roaring Of the wild
Atlantic, L. set to work, whistling, however.
this time. Old Hundred,or some similar tune; and
soon became so much absorbed in his occupation
that he took no note of time, though busily eDga-
ged on other notes. And The clock struck twelve.
1t seems to him that every toll calls up spirit
The storm increases the drapery and banners
were tapping and low moaning sounds seem to
issue forth .from the low vaults. the mansions of
the dead His whistle gradually becomes minor,
and very adaglo, with close shake-but bark
what sheriek is that Its followed by another
and another LIS hair stands on end his
whistle fades away in false cadence; great drops
of perspration stand on his forehead, and his can
die fIckers-hckers in the sockets. and-goes out!
This was too fearful as he crept to the stairs,
with the intention of making the best of his way
out, blow in the face, from some spectral hand.
somewhat accelerated his pace; and horror of
horrors, Just as he opened the door, the skirt Of
his coat was seized with frantic energy by an IN.
seen hand L. tore himself away, leaving the
skirt behind, banged open the door after him and
dashed out into the grave yard. followed by the
1esparing shouts of the spectres, ADD the wild
hooking laughter of fends.
Ia pitchy darkness he lost his way, and after
stumbling over some ancient tombsones, he had
resource to his hands and knees. Ia this attitude
he pursued his way for a considerable length of
lime, when u fash of lightning discovered to his
terrified VISION, the vicinity Of the suicides grave
He could see through the Pailing that looked de-
Ha then its tenant had indeed left il
for his nocturnal watch, and might be even now
Here was dilemma there was NO