The Centre reporter. [volume] (Centre Hall, Pa.) 1871-1940, 1877-03-15
The Old 0rganist's Story.


thing in the world besides music? He
is decidedly the ughest man l ever saw:
no more expression to his cat-gresn eve
than my pet parrots, / declare It pro-
vokes me to think nature would put M
such Job = and pretty Bell Seymour
poutngly tore the white rnses clluEing
to the yeranda post, ami spiteiuly toss
ed them on the gravel walk beneath
her.
why Bell !" and dark eyed Fluyia
glanced up In surprise. One would
think YOU were disappointed because tie
green eyed monster, as yuu term HIM,
had not yielded 70 your charms. do
not think him ugly. He plays divine
", and as for expression, he has 10 my
my eve a pitifully sad one. / shall ever
believe he loved in his youthful days
and has been disappointed in some way.
Well, if he ever loved, il was some
ono as hideoGs IS himself, YOU may de-
pend ON it. But come, let's 60 in; the
night air j. chilling"
L4ughingly the two pretty. thought
less creatures valtZe,i into the handsome
parlor ot the seaside hotel Bell Sew
mour little imagined I had been listener
to her very uncomphmentary remarks III
regard 10 myself but, leaning from my
upper window % catch breath Of fresh
sea air. / could not help their converse
tlCa being borne 10 my ear, as the night
was calm and still And her thought
less words sent me turning back. wear
after wear as some wanton breeze flutters
amid the leaves of some sacred volume
and opens its saddest tale.
Little FlUvia was right In the golden
days Of manhood, far down tie misty.
m0liering past. l had loved one Of God's 5
purest, sweetest hJwers, dainty bios
som formed from the very beginning to
expand only in heaven. And tonight,
with the dear old memories stirred, /
must give to the world my love dream,
for il cannot he long now before the
gray headed old or-auist Of s.. Paul's
VIII do away forever with earth life and
eagerly follow the bcckonings of white
hands that call from the further shore Of
the river.
May Auier'y Was our pastors only
child, q ra Gantlv beautiful girl Of SIX
teen. And how well remember even
now every incident that occurred that
frs+ Sunday morning in June l ever saw
her
Daiutily robel, from the tiny boots
modestly peepiug from beneath the soft
folds Of her silken dress. 10 the plump
gloved hand resting lightly on the arm Of
the old. cushioned family pew. she
seemed only made for my love, my wor-
ship. And looking on her fresh, pure
face, / knew the sunshine Of my life had
come to me, making me hereafter in heart
as other men, with something 10 love and
cherish
The services on this especial morning
grew intensely interesting to me, and
even the vaxen petals Of the Gala lily
sent forth perfume purer and more re-
fined, as her soul mingled with mine in
the morning anthem. Once only she
raised her eyes to nv face, when with de-
light I sent the music swelling aud SWAY
ing through the grand old arches Of the
church, and then sunk ii b. a huttcring
sob that del away on the morning
winds. But for this, / might have sunk
oEt Of existence for any attention she be-
slowed on me ! was the organist, moth
ing more, to her or any one else in this
wide, vide world
As the services closed / leaned forward
to catch one more glance Of the sweet
bright eyes 50 blue AM pure, but she
hal already passel out, aud came down
from the organ loft with jov in my
heart with which the bright spring morn
ing fitly harmonized.
How fresh the flowers looked in their
rainbow bcaiTty-the violets were so
much like the shy ewes Of my darling
that ! kneelel down and kissed one
i neTer .dgeamel, ns other men are
won't To do- of wife and home and this
little fairy s-my fireside queen. Oh,
no ! she was too pure for me, and / was
fully corrtent 10 set her up in my heart
of hearts as an idol, and secretly worship
her there. ! well knew the poor organist
and the beautiful daughter of the wealthy
pastor Of st. Pauls were no fit match in
the worlds eye but that knowledge did
not weaken my love She was my idol
my queen and Sunday after Sunday, as
I saw her enter the square old family
pew and join with my music in devotion,
] felt God was good in granting me this
master passion. For through il her soul
and mine could mingle in one beautiful,
beautiful strain. And / think she must
have guessed, sometimes, my idolatry,
for, when / would pour forth my soul in
some grandly thrilling measure, a star
tied look would creep into her sweet
young eyes, and the little hand would
tremble as she turned the leaves of her
song book
This was sasfara az our acquaintance went.
We talked only in mnsic and how eag-
erly watched for Sundays dawn, that
/ might, as bird to its mate, tell of my
love in song.
One Sunday, after year of exquisite
enjoyment of my untold love, when the
bright May poured its yellow streaks OF
gold into the whispering baby leaves Of
the oaks, drinking softly, as fairies might,
the glittering dew drops nesting in the
flower cups, / missed the fresh young
voice in our church music, and the little
dairtiIy dressed figure in the large old
family pew. Glancing at the pulpit,
found a stranger filing DIR. Auderly' 3
pace. A wild fear of something in the
future seized my hear and that day I'm
s,re the music must have been poor.
As 7 was hurrying out of the organ
loft, wild with fear and uneasy thoughts.