Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1878-01-30
Saved by a Song.

touch of fog in the air II was past ten
o'clock, and the streets aud 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 warehouse
loomed black and forbidding over the silent
thoroughfares. Here and there the CLEAN
from solitary window struggled neffectu-
ally with the outer darkness and served but
to bring into stronger relief the general
gloom and solitude.
And nowhere was the darkness deeper or
the scene of desolation more profound than
in st. Winifred's court. st. Winifred's
is one of those queer little alleys which inter
sect the heart Of eastern London, and CON
sists with one exception, of houses let out
rs offices, and utterly deserted by night. The
court is bounded on one side by st. Wini-
fred's church, while in one corner stands
quaint old house, occupying nearly trian
gdlar piece of ground and forming the ex-
ception we have referred to. having been for
many years the residence of st. Winifred's
organist, Michael Fray.
Many of these ancient churches still remain
in odd hooks and corners of the city relics
of time when London merchants made
their homes in the same spot whereon they
armed their daily bread, worshiping on
Sunday in their narrow aisles, and when
their time came asking no better resting
place than beneath those venerable flagstones
On which they had knelt in life. The liber-
,lity of ancient founders and benefactors
has left many of these old churches richly
endowed, and still, Sunday after Sunday,
'ector and curate mount their respective
loulyu nd ptrunc,la tbro,,o,l
task but portly aldermen and dignihed bur
Sesses no longer fill the high-backed pews.
A wheezy verger and pew-opener, with a
lozen or so of ancient men aud women, care.
takers of adjoining warehouses or offices, too
often form the only congregation.
st. Winifred's, like many of its sister edi-
fees, though small in extent, is anoble mon
'lment of ecclesiastical architecture, having
been designed by an architect of world
vide fame, and boasting stained glass win
lows Of the richest color and exquisite de-
>ign, and oaken carving OF flower and leaf, to
which the touch of maste~ had impaired all
but living beauty. The western extremity of
the church abuts upon narrow lane, on
week day one of the busiest in the city; but
IN Sundays the broad portal is flung open
in vain, for its invitation is addressed to
empty seats and deserted houses.
The only sign of life on this Christmas
ave, in st. Winifred's court, was faint
CLEAN of Pickering freight proceeding from
one of the windows of the quaint three-cor-
nered house in which Michael Fray passed
MS solitary existence. 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 died in his early youth, an only
brother, gifted but wayward youth, had in
early life run away to sea, and there found a
watery grave. Being thus left alone in the
world. Michael Frav's love for music which
had always been the most marked feature Of
his character, had become intensified into an
absolute passion Evening after evening,
when darkeness had settled on the city and
none could complain that his music inter
fered with business or distracted the atten-
ton from the nobler clink of gold, he was
accustomed to creep quietly into the church
aud there talk to himself, as he called it,
at the old organ, which answered him back
again with a tender sympathy aud power OF
consolation 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 ipes or pedals
but the backened case and yellow much
worn keys had been fashioned 10y the cum
ming brain aud skilful fingers of Fathe
Smith" himself but never had the renowned
old organ-bulder turned out a more skiltu
piece of workmanship. And Michael Fra!
by use of years and loving tender study, ha(
got by heart every pipe and stop in the rar
old instrument and had acquired an almos
magical power in bringing out its tenderes
notes and noblest harmonies.
Hear him this Christmas eve as he sits be
fore the ancient keyboard, one feeble candl
dimly gimmering over the wel-worn pag
before him; hickering weirdly over the al
cient carving, aud calling into momentar
life the efligies of mitred abbot and MALE
crusader. A feeble old man whose sands @
life have all but run out; a sad and trent
lous old man with shaking hands, and din
uncertain eyes But when they are place
upon those yellow keys, the sinking hand
shake no longer, the feeble sight finds II
labor in those well remembered pages. Undt
the touch of Michael Trays dett fingers tn
ancient organ becomes instinct with life an
harmony. The grand old masters lend the
nODltSL NI1dllA, anu COultl lutN itNlNll car u
need ask no better interpreter. From sa'
dest wall of sorrow to sweetest strain OF col
solation-from the dirge for the loved an
lost TO the pean of the jubilant victor-eac
shade of human passion, each tender messal
= of divine encouragement, take form aud colC
= in succession under the magic of that o
!, mans touch. Thus, sometimes borrowin
1 the song of other singers, sometimes wande
, ing into quaint lEolian harmonies, the spo
Z taneous overflow of his own rare geniu
= Michael Fray sat and made music, charmir
! his sorrows TO temporary sleep.
: Time crept on, on, but the player heedt
4 it not, till the heavy bell in the tower abo
# his head doomed forth the hour of miduig
:; and recalled him to reality again. With "
i or three wailing minor chords he brought b
5 weird improvisation to an end.
, /" Dear me-" he said, with a heavy sig
= "Christmas again Christmas again Hc
l. many times, | wonder? Well, this will
r the last and vet Christmas comes, and fiH
', me here still, all alone. Dear, dear Fin
n poor Dick and then my darling Alice al
II little Nel--all gone Young and brig
and merry-al taken Aud here am
old, sad and triendless and yet | live c
live on Well, | suppose God knows best
,f While thus thinking aloud the old man "
" apparently searching for something amo
j. the music books, and now produced an q
n cient page OF manuscript worn almost
Al fragments, but pasted for preservation, oI
x piece of paper OF later date. "Yes, here
H. is, poor Dicks Christmas song, What
le sweet voice he had, dear boy If he h
Sc only lived-but there I'm murmuri
ID again. Gods will be done"
k lie placed the music on the desk befC
a him, and after a moments pause begun
is ilute-like tones, to play the melody, at {
IS same time grooming the words in feel
rs voice. lie played one verse of the song tn
It, stopped and drew his sleeve across his ey
d. The sense of his desolation appeared to col
st anew upon him. he seemed TO shrink dow
IL doubly old. doubly feeble, doubly forsak
id when 10 marvel Suddenly from
id lonely street without, in that chill midnig
Is came the sound of violin, and sw'
~ young voice singing the seli-sane words
H. the sef-same tender air-the song written
" his dead aud gone brother forty years befo
80 The effect ON Michael Fray was electric
is For moment he staggered, but caught
ne the keyboard before him aud held it witt
at convulsive grasp.
W "Am dreaming, or are my senses leayi
n.nr htaEfu ithrtufn.au And