Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1851-06-05

music could turn the thinnest potato-broth
into a sayoury feast
But an unforeseen misfortune awaited
our friend Hans, of which the worthy ma
gistrate, Notwithstanding his kindness to
the old man, was unintentonally the cause.
His worship came one day, accompanied By
young man, who had all the look of re-
mus. The latter stood for some minutes,
with arms folded, gazing at Hans, who was
busy hddling to the work-people at their
dinner.
There stands the last Of the hddlers. Of
whom | told you, said the magistrate L
want you to paint hlm-he is the only relic
of the old times whom we have left
The artist complied. At first, old Hans
resisted the operation stoutly, but he was at
length won over by the persuasion Of his
worship, and allowed the artist to take his
likeness With trembling Impotence he
sat before the easel wanting, every instant.
to jump up and see what the man was about
But this the artist would not allow, and
promised to show him the picture when il
was finished. Day after day old Hans had TO
Sit to the artist, in this state of wonder and
suspense aud when at noon he played to
the workmen at their meals, his tunes we're
slow and heavy, and had lost all their form
er yivaclty and spirit.
Al length the picture was finished, and
Hans was allowed to see himself on a can
vas. AT the first glance he started back in
alright, crying out like one mad, Bonner
and Bitz the rascal has stolen me =
From that day forward, when the artist
had gone away, and taken the picture with
him, old Hans was quite changed; he went
about the village, talking to himself, and
was often heard to mutler, Nailed up to
the wal-stolen Hans has his eyes open
day and night, looking down from the wall
never sleeps, nor eats, nor drinks. Stol-
EN- the thief Seldom could a sensible
word be drawn from him; but he played
the widest tunes on his fiddle, and every
now and then would stop and laugh, ex-
claiming, as If gazing at something, Ha,
ha YOU old fellow there, nailed up to the
wall, with your fiddle; you can't play-you
are the wrong one-here he sits
Ga one occasion the spirit ofthe old man
burst out again. it was the day when the
gayly-decked hr-bush was stuck upon the
finished gable of the new school.house. The
carpenters and masons came, dressed in
their Sunday clothes, preceded by band
of music, to fetch the MASTER The old
fiddler, Hans, was, the whole day long, in
high spri,s-brisk and gay as in his best
years. He sang, drank, and played till late
into the night, and in the morning he was
found, with his iidde-bow in his hand, dead
in his bed.
Many of the villagers fancy, in the still
ness Of the night, when the clock strikes
twelve, that they hear sound in the school
house, like the sweetest tones of fiddle.
Some say that il is old Hans's instrument,
which he bequeathed to the school-house,
and which plays by itself Others declare
that the tones which Hans played into the
wood aud stones, when the house was build
ing, come ont of them again in the night.
BE this as it may, the children are taught all
the new rational methods Of instruction, IN
a building which is still haunted by the
ghost of the last fiddler.