The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, 1878-07-18

Wish for no liberty You deserve not
the day. 1t should be in the church,
professions, flowers, with prayers, with
thanks. Powder, horns, fre-crackers-
detestablel
But the fireworks are beautiful,
Fenallosa," said Chrystie. "When John
sends up the rockets after dark from the
roof, and showers of colored stars fall
into the sea that showers of colored
stars rise out of the deeps to meet-oh!
that is beautifull'
"That is beautiful said Fenallosa,
all at once in radiant humor. "I shall
to see it. And I will play your Yankee
Tootle on the toot-horns; you will give
the instruction" And so Chrystie play
ed him the desired tune, he standing
beside her and adding to her guitar
strain according fourishes on the piano.
cit is a qu1ckstep, your national tune.
Your fast people do keep the time. But
it suits not the guitar. One night,
Chrystie, you shall lean from the bal
cony with me, and to hear the band
down in the plaza play the soft music
very different music!-and the seas roll
ing other music in the harbor, mountain
tops and south stars over us"
81 do wish, Fenallosa," murmured
Chrystie, as he bent his ear to listen.
"that if you will make love to me, you
wouldn't make it before all the world, !"
"What care for the world2" he cried.
"The universe is nothing then # you but
to isten!" And he turned about and
caught my hand and kissed it in a pas
sion of delight, since he dared not kiss
Chrystie's, and he knew John Allan
would not mind; for he saw here his
first good omen.
1t was on the afternoon of the Fourth
itself that Fenallosa appeared before us
in deep mourning, clad in the blackest
habiliments of woe from top to toe. I
confess I thought it was part of his
love.making, and he was only testifying
to the condition of his emotions, or else
that some revolution had turned up in
South America that he was contrasting
with our happy day of independence.
But it was quite otherwise. The news
had just come of the loss of great-un-
Gle, whom he had never seen, but who
had left him a silver mine in the noun
tains, a troop of slaves. a coffee planta-
tien, and few other trihes. "I shall
go back one day now to manouvre, to
manage, my estate" he said, grandilo-
quently. "But not alone I go. They
are not mine; they are hers" And he
felt more than ever assured that, after
this, things must turn out as lie wished,
and he surveyed himself and the inky
hue of his garments with ineffable salts
faction, while Chrystie brought him the
iced lemonade with which he celebrated,
and which he regarded with unfeigned
contempt.
Garcia and Leon were playing duet
on the piano as he came in. It is true
that the music they played had never
been written, but they had a bound vol
ume of the Bazar open on the rack be-
fore them, and appeared TO be going
through it Philharmonically, their eyes
fixed on the page and running along the
lines, turning the leaf reIigiously when
they reached the foot, nodding their
heads to the time, going back for fresh
start or to play over some bar more to
their mind, and jabbering together now
and then without looking off concerning
the lingering or the phrasing, and get
ting out of it all not unpleasant ring
ing and changing. AS Fenallosa came
in in his dark array, with the shining
new black hat in his hand, they glanced
at each other quickly, but banged away,
till, having made his compliments to the
rest, he wheeled on them, and with one
of his gestures, which even Leon and
Garcia never thought of disobeying,
brushed them from their seats, and ad-
justed himself in their place. "They
profane," he said, looking up at me.
l used to think that nobody ever
looked exactly like him, so nobody ever
played exactly like Fenallosa. Playing
seemed to be as natural to him as
breathing, as natural as it is to any fish
to wave his fins in the water, and the
keys always sang under his hands. Even
Chrystie listened when FenaIlosa
played. "They conquered the wild
creatures with the music in the old day."
said he to me, as leaned on the instru-
ment. 81 shall yet conquest of her."
indicating Chrystie with his head. And
there was a conscious power about him
as the great chords rolled out.
"Ah, Fenallosa," cried Chrystie once
when he teased her, "why can't you al
ways be the man that you are when yon
are playing, and not the boy that"
"Chrystie," he said, quietly, "why
can you not to be the woman of dignity
that does to tell me my fault, and not
the girl I see when I pass the window,
dancing alone with her arms above her
head and all her silver bangles ringing
like the Almee's bells2 Eh 4? But the
beautiful arms The fair head -"
"There you go again !" cried Chrys-
tie.
To-day, as Fenallosa played, there
was something very grand and solemn
in his thoughts: one might fancy that
he was up among the purple slopes and
silver peaks of the hills athome with the
work of death. By degrees, though, more
and more sweetness stole into the meas
ures, with all sorts of hesitating turns
and melancholy cadences; he had forgot
ten himself and his boyishness in the
music. But when at length he paused,
it was to see Chrystie's eyes swimming
in tears, and all the boy was uppermost
again. "She is ice, but l melt her !"
he cried; and Immediately he began
playing, with total oblivion of dead
uncles and living coffee estates, all sorts
of gay dance tunes and the airs of sweet
love songs, ending with medley of ma
tional airs framed in a fanfaronade of
trumpet calls, drum beats, and shrill
cornet strains, for Fenallosa was mas
ter of music. Then suddenly he arose,
bowed to every body, and darted for the
hall and his hat, found the hat gone,
and in its place the light straw ruin
that Garcia had left.
W., Oh o,,Jd haxa aaan tho fraparort of