Daily globe., 1878-02-24
SAVED BY A SONG.

1t was Christmas eve. A cold, old
fashioned Christmas, with snow lying
thick on the ground and still falling
heavily, with touch Of fog in the air.
1t was past ten o'clock, and the streets
and lanes of the great city were all but
deserted. Merchant and broker, clerk
and warehouseman, and the rest of the
busy crowd who had thronged those streets
by day had one by one drifted away to
their homes, and the lofty warehouses
loomed black and forbidding over the 81
lent thoroughfares. Here and there the
CLEAN from solitary window struggled
Intellectually with the outer darkness, and
served but to bring into relief the general
gloom and solitude.
And nowhere were the shadows deeper
OF the house of desolation more profound
than in St. Winifred's Court. St. Wini-
fred's is one of those queer little alleys
which inters ect the heart OF Eastern Lon
don. and consists, with one exception, of
houses let out as offices, and utterly de-
serted at night The court is bounded on
one side by St. Winifred's church, while
in one corner stands quaint old house,
occupying nearly triangular piece Of
grouodand forming the exception we
have referred to having cbeen or many
years the residence of St. Winifred's OF
ganist, Michael Fray.
Many Of these ancient churches still
remain in odd hooks and corners OF the
city; relics of a time when London mer-
chauts made their homes in the same
spot whereon they earned their daily
bread, worshipping on Sunday in these
narrow aisles, and when their time came
asking no better resting place than be-
meath those venerable tlag-stones on
which they had knelt in life. The iber-
ality OF ancient founders and benefactors
has left many of these old churches rich
ly endowed, and still. sunday after Sun
day, pastor and cu1ate mount their re-
spective desks and struggle through their
respective tasks but portly aldermen and
dignitied burgesses no longer fill the high
backed pews. A wheezy verger and
peW-opener, with dozen or so Of ancient
men and women, care takers ofadj Joining
warehouses and Offices, too often from the
only congregation.
st. Winifred's like many OF its sister
edifces, though small in extent, is no.
BILE monument of ecclesiastical architect
ure, having been designed by an archi-
tect of worldwide fame, and boasting
stained-g glass windows of richest color
and exquisite design, and oaken carvings
Of flower and leaf, to which the touch of
a master has impaired all but living
beauty. The western extremity of the
church abuts upon a narrow lane, on a
week day one Of the busiest in the city
on Sunday the broad portal is flung open
in vain, tor its invitation is addressed to
empty streets and deserted houses.
The only sign Of life, on this Christ
mas eve, in St. Winifred's court, was a
faint CLEAN of fflickering freight proceed
ing from one Of the windows Of the
quaint three-cornered house in which
Michael Fray passed his solitary exist
ence. Many years before the period of
our story, the same month had taken
from him wife and child, and since that
time Michael Fray had lived desolate,
his only solace being the rare old organ,
the friend and companion Of his lonely
hours. The loss of his wife and daughter
had left him without kith or kin. His
father and mother had died in his early
youth; an only brother, gifted but way
ward youth, had in early life ran away to
sea, and had there found waterv grave.
Being thus left alone in the world,
Michael Fray's love for music, which had
always been the most marked feature of
his character, had become intensified into
absolute passion. Evening after evening,
when darkness had settled on the city,
and none could complain that his music
irterfered with business, or distracted
the attention from the1 nobler clink of
gold, he was accustomed to creep quietly
into the church and there g talk to him
SELF" as he called it, at the old organ,
which answered him back again with
tender sympathy and power of consola-
(ation which no mere human listener
could ever have afforded.
The organ of St. Winifred's was of
comparatively small size, and made but
scanty show of pipes OF pedals; but the
blackened case and yellow, much-worn
keys had been fashioned by the cunning
brain and skillful fingers of ''Father
Smith, himself, and never had the re-
nowned old organ-builder turned out a
more skillful piece of workmanship.
And Michael Fray, by use of years and
loving tender study had got by heart
every pipe and stop in the rare old in
strument, and had acquired an almost
magical power in bringing out its tender
est tones and noblest harmonies.
Hear him this Christmas eve as he
sets before the ancient key board, one
feeble candle dimly gllmmering over the
well-known page before him; Pickering
weirdly over the ancient carving, and
calling into momentary life the effigies
of mitred abbot and mailed crusader. A
feeble old man, whose sands Of life have
all but run out; a sadly weak and tremu-
lous old man, with shaking hands and
dim, uncertain eyes. But when they are
placed upon those yellow keys, the shak-
ing hands shake no longer; the feeble
sight finds no labor in those we'll remem-
bered pages.
Under his touch the organ becomes in
stinct with life and harmony. The grand
old masters lend their noblest strains, and
could they revisit earth, need ask no
better Interpreter. From saddest wall Of