Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1878-02-21
WHOLE NO. 1919.

girl with sweet though very sad
voice accompanied him with the sp.
propriate words. But their attempts
were misersbly unproductive In such
bitter weather few who could help it
would stay away from their warm
firesides; and those whom stern neces
sity kept out of doors, seemed only
bent on despatchiug their several
tasks, and to have no time or thought
to expend on couple of wandering
tramps singing by the roadside. Still
they toiled on, every now and then
making, fresh pitch at some likely
corner, only too often ordered to
move on by stern policeman. As
they grew near the city and the hour
grew later the passers- by became
fewer and farther betu cen, and the
poor wanderers felt that it was idle
even TO seek for charity in those de.
serted silent streets. At last the old
man stopped and groaned aloud.
| What is it, grandfather dear
Don't give in now, when we have
come go far. Lean on me-do; l am
hardly tired at all; and / daresay we
shall do better to morrow
| Tomorrow ! said the old man bit
terly; to morrow it will be TO late.
don't mind hunger and l don't mind
cold; but the shame of it tho disgrace
after having struggled against it all
these years-to come TO the work
house at last. It isn't for myself, l
mind; beggars mustn't be choosers;
and, | daresay, much better men than
have slept in casual ward; but
you, my tender little Lily. The
thought breaks my heart it kills mel
And the old man sobbed aloud.
Dear grandfather, you are always
thinking Of me, never of yourself.
What does it matter after all? it's on.
ly the name of the thing. Pm sure
don't mind it one Bit The shudder
of horror which passed over the girls
frame gave the lie to her pious false
hood. I.daresay it's not so very bad
and after all, something may happen
to prevent it even now!'
sWhat can happen short of mira
Gle in these deserted streets?
| well, let us. hope for the miracle
then, dear. God has never quite de.
serted us in our deepest trouble and
don't believe He will forsake ms
now.
As she spoke she drew her thin
shawl more closely around her, shiv
ering in spite of herself, under the
cold blast which seemed to receive no
check from her scanty coverings.
Again the pair crept on, and passing
beneath the lofty wall of ST. Wini.
fred's Church stood beneath for
temporary shelter from the driving
wind and snow. While so standing
they caught the faint sounds of the
organ solemnly pealing within.
Noble music, said the old man, as
the final chords died away; noble
music, and a soul in the playing The
man, whoever the man be, should
have generous heart
Hush, grandfather said the girl,
he is beginning to play again.
Scarcely had the music commenced
however, than the pair gazed at each
other in breathless surprise.
Lily, darling, do you hear what he
| is playing?' said the old man in an ex-
cited whisper.
"A strange coincidence the girl re-
piled
Strange! it is more than strange
Lily, darling, who could play that
song?'
The melody came to an end and all
was silence There was moments
pause, and then, as if by common i'm.
pulse, the old man drew his bow
across the strings and the girls sweet
voice carolled forth the second verse
of the song. Scarcely had they end
ed, when the door opened at the foot
of the church tower just beside them
and Michael Fray, barehesded with
his scanty locks blown about by the
winter wind, stood before them. H.
hurried forward and then stood still.
shame-faced, hewildered. The song
had called up the vision of a gallant
young sailor, full of life and health, as
Michael had seen his brother for the
last time on the day when he sailed
ON his fatal voyage. He had hurried,
forgetting the years that had passed,
full of tender memories of boyish
days, to find alas! only a couple of
wandering beggars singing for bread.
i beg your pardon he said, striv-
ing vainly to master his emotions;
you sang song just now which
which-a song which was fayorite
OF dear friend of mine many years
ago. Will you-will you tell me
where you got it?'
by the best Of all titles SIR the
old fiddler answered, drawing him.
self up with touch Of artistic pride
i wrote il myself, words and music
both
Nay, SIR said Michael sternly,
you rob the dead. A dearly loved
brother of mine wrote that song forty
years ago.
well, upon my word : said the old
fiddler waxing wroth-'then your
brother must have stolen it from me
What might this precions brothers
name be, pray?'
San honest name, a name | am
proud to speak, said Michael firing
up in his turn his name was Rich
ard Fray
What! he exclaimed peering Gag.
erly into the others face; sthen you
are my brother Michael, for am
Richard Fray
Half an hour later and the brothers,
80 long parted, SO strangely brought
together, were seated around a roar
ing fire in Michael Trays quaint
three.cornered parlor. Michael's
stores had been raDsacked for warm,
dry clothes for the wanderers. Draw
ers long closed, yielded when opened,
q sweet scent oflavender, and con-
tanning homely skirts and bodices.
kept still in loving memory of little
Nell, gave up their treasures for Ii.
ly's benefit, and Richard Trays snow
sodden clothes were replaced by Mi
chael's choicest coat and softest ain.