Union County courier. [volume] (Elk Point, Union County, D.T. [S.D.]) 187?-1913, 1878-02-13

E82&N N&MEH oS44 N0&4AA1i
l1to nomsatasy lifs ths eisgies q hi
tssd abbot md mailed crusader. 4
tseble old mn, whose sands Of life hav,
~ but run out; : sadly week and tremu
lous old man, with shaking hands ane
ldim, uncertain eyes. But when theJ
M placed upon those yellow keys, tn
sbAktug hands shake no longer; the fee
HE siGht finds no labor In those we'll
remembered pages. Under the touch o.
Michael Fny's deft fingers the ancient
organ becomes instinct with. life and har
n0ny. The grand old masters lend theil
modest stFainA and could they revisit
earth, nced ask no better Interpreter.
From anddest vail of sorrow to sweetest
stream of consolation-from the dirge
for the loved and lost, to the pecan
Of the jubilant victor-each shade Of hui
man passion, each tender message Of
divine encouragement, take form and
color in succession, under the magic of
that old mans touch. Thus, sometimes
borrowing the song oil .Iother singers,
sometimes wandering into quaint Eolian
harmonies, the spontaneous overflow of
his own VI genius, Michael Fray sat
and made music, charming his sorrows
to temporary sleep.
Time crept on, but the player needed
It not, till the heavy bell tower above
his head doomed forth the hour of mid.
night and recalled him to reality again.
With two or three wailing minor chords
he brought his weird improvisation to
an end.
"Dear me-" he said, with a heavy sigh,
Christmas again! Christmas again!
How many times, / wonder! Well, this
will Be the last; and yet Christmascomes
again, and finds me here still, all alone.
Dear, dearl First, poor Dick; ana then
my darling Alice and little Nell--all
gone! Young and bright and merry
al taken! And here am I-old, sad and
friendless-and yet / live on, live oni
Well, l suppose God knows best!"
While thus thinking aloud, the old man
was apparently searching for something
among his music books, and now pro-
duced an ancient page of manuscript,
worn almost to fragments, but pasted for
preservation, on a piece Of paper of later
date. YES, here it is, poor Dicks
Christmas song. What q sweet voice he
had, dear boyl If he had only lived
but there! Am murmuring again.
Gods will be doneW
He placed the music ON the desk before
him, and, after a moments pause, began.
in tender fute-like tones, to play the
melody, at the same time grooming the
words in q feeble voice. He played one
verse of the song, then stopped and drew
his sleeve across his eyes. The sense OF
his desolation appeared to come anew
upon him he seemed to shrink down,
d0ubly old, doubly feeble, doubly for.
sa~ken--when, lol q marvel! Suddenly
from that lonely street without, in that
chill midnight, came the sound of a
violin, and a sweet young voice singing
the self-same words to the self-same ten
der air--the song written by his dead and
gone brother forty years before.
The effect on Michael Fray was elec-
trical. For a moment he staggered, but
caught at the keyboard before him and
held it with a c%onvulsive grasp.
"Am l dreaming7 or are my senses
leaving me? Poor Dicks Christmas
carol; and / could almost swear the voice
IL my own lost Nellie's. Can this be
death at lastf And are the angels well
coming me home with the song | love 30
dearly? No, surely; either | am going
mad, VI that is a real living voice! But
whose-whose? Heaven help me to find
QUIT" And with his whole frame quiv-
ering with excitement-without pausinp
to close the organ, or to extinguish
his candle-the old man grouped his way
down the narrow winding stairs which
led to the street, and hurriedly closing
the door behind him, stepped forth bare
headed into the snowy night.
For some hours before Michael Fray
startled. as we have related, BY the
echo Of his brothers song, an
Did man and young girl had been max
their way citywards from the south
eide of London. Both walked
wearily ~ though they had tramped
= long distance; and once or twice the
young girl wiped away a tear, though
she strOve hard to hide it from her com
and forced herself to speak with
= cheerfutness in strange contrast with
her sunken cheeks and footsore gait.
Every now and then, in passing through
the more f~requented streets, they would
pause; and the man, who carried a violin,
would strike up some old ballad tune
with q vigor and power of execution
which even his ~frost-nipped fingers and
weary limbs could not wholly destroy;
while the girl with a sweet though very
cad voice, accompanied him with the
appropriate words. But their attempts
were miserably unproductive. In such
bitter weather, few who could help it
would stay away from their warm fire
and those whom stern necessity
kept out of doors seemed only bent on
despatching their several tasks, and to
have no time or thought to expend on a
couple of wandering tramps singing by
the roadside. Still they toiled on,
every now and then making a fresh
" pitch" at some likely corner, only too
ordered to move on by q stern
policeman. As they drew nearer to the
city and the hour grew later, the passers-
by became fewer and farther between,
and the poor wanderers felt that it was
idle ven to seek for charity in those
deserted, silent streets. At last the old
man stopped and groaned aloud.
"What is it, grandfather, dear? Don't
i've in now, when we have come 40 far.
Lean on me-do; / am hardly tired at
III; and ! daresay we shall do better to-
morrow"
Tomorrow" said the old man. bit
erIy; Tomorrow it will be too late. 1
lon't mind hunger, and / don't mind
old; but the shame of it, the disgrace
fter having struggled against it all these
'ears-.to come to the workhouse at last!
: isn't for myself mind brggars musn't
e ehoosers; and, ! daresay, better men
han ! have slept in a casual ward; but
'ou, my tender little Lily. The thought
lrcaks my heart! il kills sael,, Ard
he old man sobbed aloud.
dear grandfather, you are always
linking Of me, and never of yourself.
What does it matter after all? it's only
he name Of the thing. Pm sure l don't
mind it one bit. The shudder of horror
which passed over the girls frame gave
he lie to her pious falsehood. 81 dare
it ID not y very bad; and, after all.
omething may happen to prevent iteven