Cleveland morning leader. [volume] (Cleveland [Ohio]) 1854-1865, 1861-03-16
The Mazed Fiddler,


James-A ripe scholar, Mr. Smith -
Mr.. Smith nOdded; bis notions Of scholar
ship weie hazy.
---sa ripe scholar, as became one who was
The pupil OF George Buchanan, and the friend
Of Isaac Cassaub0n, could have sat with US
acre, in this little psFlor,- could have looked
out over yonder garden, and watched as be
did so, the long luxurious ourls OF smoke he
would perchance have somewhat mitigated
the fury Of his famous " Counterblast."
Mr, Smith thought it likely, and then, with
every demonstration Of placid bliss, returned
70 the consumption Of bis cigar. He had
come down for q stroll In North Devon, and
The kindly, If somewhat formal, old school
master Of Coombet0Wn, happy enough 70 81
a strange face, had quickly iraterniEed with
him Thus Il beiel that they sat together
one July evening Ia the schoolmaster's par
Tor, and there, cigar IN mouth, talked lazily
as men who have much leisure on their hands.
rhe day was very hot but through the open
window came the breath o. many flowers;
The little air that STOLEN was thick and sweet
with summer, ami from the street without
came the voice of youg girl, grooming over
some plaintive old west-conntry ballad. The
conversation tagged, for the cigars were
4uN1AAtulI Hluls a. AAlhs
What's that R' cried Smith, starting up.
HWait and listen, answered his friend.
Il was only the sound Of violin in the
next house; and Smith, who was practiced
musician, trembled lest he should hear some
eccentric jig, such as country hddlers alone
can perpetrate, or even imagine. He was
wrong. Ia Eve minutes look OF wonder was
in his face; in ten, be cried, "the fellow has
geniusP' There was an immense pathOs in
The music; the divine instrument (the instru-
meuts own the organ for their king, but they
claim the violin for their poet seemed tell
ing some strange tale, Of love ineffable and |
OF infinite sorrow; now, it would seem to
sink into a wall OF utter desolate WEAKNESS,
and anon there was wild exulmtion, rapid, |
passionate, vibrant in every tone. OF mere |
technical skill, the player had evidently |
abundance, bat then, besides this there was |
soul in his playing--there was passion, |
poetry. Silently the two men sat listening !
With reverence to the wOnder-WoTEeF at last /
he music grew confused, even harsh, as il |
the player had sought to 60 beyond the limits |
Of possible expression, and had found come |
strange harmony in what to ears less finely |
ettuned, or to hearts less hotly excited,
seemed utter diseord. Then be ceased, and
our trispds looked graYely at each other.
You Eze astOnished 10 hear noh music in |
little fishing hamlet2'
Said the LOndoner: "If that man comes |
to town, he will make fortune in year
[ have heard Paganihi; he played, they said, |
ike a man who had sold himselfto the devil. |
Why, this man plays as deEil might to
whom Paganini had sold himself. Who |
taught him2"
1.-TWO masters, said the schoolmaster, with
halt-troWn at the Londoner' rather irrever-
ent words, "two masters-Love and Vanity
and the latter, fear me, was the stronger /
of the two. The man is msd-'mazed, as
we call it here. His is 4 painful story. WIN |
you hear it2'
The Londoner, really interested, gave
rapid yes and his friend began.
n.-THR scgooL-MAsTERs STORY.
al came to this place man of thirty,
and am sixty now. u suits me well enough. !
[ Inever vas fitted to struggle in the great
cities; and here know every one. Ny work
is simple, its reWGrd IS sufficient IOr my few
wants, and know that the children love me.
There is much comfort in that, sir, for one
that has never been a father. Well, when |
came here, the prettiest girl for many mile
round was Mary Lee. You have seen our
North Devon girls-dark eyes, dark hair, and |
ready speech Mary had all this and she
had more; she had the bearing Of born lady,
50 that though our folks are plain and .
rough, no one ever dreamt ofuttering coarse
Jest before Mary Lee. Her father, small
farmer, had left her tolerably well to do; and
the old maiden aunt with whom she bad
lived, had been to her mother. You will
suppose that she had many lovers. In a
manner, she had; every lad In Coombetown
felt kind Of pride in her; but she was grand
like, there was something about her which |
rather awed than invited them, and only |
John Hamlyn had any reason to hope tor her |
hand. BE lives next door still-a plain old |
sailor now but in years gone by, as 6ne and /
daring g fellow as breathed along the coast. |
Like Mary, he was sufficiently rich; that is, |
his father had owned two or three small coast
ers, people did talk Of his smuggling, but |
that is no affair Of mine and dying, LEFT |
them to his only son. Mary and be had |
grown up side by side, and always there was
quiet kind of affection between them.
There was more than that, one wild win |
ter morning, when John was brought speech |
less and bleeding into the village, and Mary |
heard, how, in the tempest Of the night /
before, he had manned boat, pushed of 70 |
4 large brig that had struck upon the Tangle |
Rock in the ofing, and saved the lives of some !
Of her crew at the imminent peril of his own.
A spar fAd struck him during his work, and
there was great ghastly wound in his head. |
/ Dr. WoOdbury--the old gentleman whom
/ you saw to-day upon his little chestnut mare
met the men, IS they silently brought John
! Hamlyn up the steep path from the pier, and
| saw him carried to his house; and Mary,
going home, knelt down beside her bed burst
into wild tears, then into prayers as wild, and
felt, for the first time, as IT the really loved
ihe great, strong sailor. HerecoEered slowly;
some traces Of the wound remained, but he
could have had, I think, no s.ars more glo-
riOus, and ere be long be hopedto bring Mary
home as his wils.'
q And this brave fellow is the one who
was playing
@prsy let me 60 on. No, be is not
Genius be lever had, only the courage Of a
lion and the afectonate gentleness Of a child.
Poor Maryl Il had been well had these
suficed her, and so for time they did; bat,
unfortunately for her, unfortunately for John,
theie was lad in the village lgho had genius,
and alas who knew it Willy Basset was
but poor young 6sherma1--not strong
one, not even brave one; but one Of singular
parts. II was too partnl 70 him, and il my
praises helped to turn his head and ell him
With the demon Of vanity, may God forgive
me- did all for the best Suffice it, sir,
that whatever time be could steal from the
drudgery Of bis daily life, was given partly
to the books lent him, and partly to praC-
tisinp upon an old yislin which had belonged
to his iatner, the village fiddler.
/" John Hamlyn passed the cottage where
be liveG one day, and heard him playing
willy Basset lad, cried the big curly
headed John, 1t seems 20 me you might
r spend youv time better than in hddliLg, with
your poor old mother bedridden at home
, There's the herring-haWks OF the bay, man,
, and the shoal will be round the head before
you finish Robbing John. Out to the boats,
I Willy! Willy looked up, and was about 70
/ answer anorilv- Int John looked alaFminglV