The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1879-03-29
Saved by a Song.

III WAS christmas Eve. A colu, Olu-1asn-
ioned Christmas, with snow lying thick on
the ground and still falling heavily, with a
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 warohouseman, 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 doomed black and forbid
ding over the silent thoroughfares. Here
and there the gleam of solitary window
struggled Intellectually with the outer dark
ness. and served but to bring into stronger
relief the general gloom and solitude.
And nowhere was the darkness deeper or
the sense of desolation more profound
than in st. Winifred's court. St. Winifred's
is one of those queer little alleys which
intersect the heart Of Eastern London, and
consists with one exception, Of houses let
ont as offices, and utterly deserted at night
Iho ooulV ID pouuuCu ol LILO Oue bltte ny
ST. Winifred's church, while in one corner
stands quaint old house, occupying q
nearly triangular piece Of ground, and
forming the exception referred to, having
been for many years the residence of St.
Winifred's organist, Michael Fray.
The only sign of life on this Christmas
Eve, in st. Winifreds court, was CLEAN
of dickering fire-hght proceeding from one
of the windows of the quaint three cor
nered house in which Michael Fray passed
his solitary existence. Many years before
the period of our story, the same month
had taken from him wife and child, and
Michael Fray had lived desolate, his only
companion 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 life, an only
brother, gifted but wayward youth, had
in early life run away to sea- and had there
found watery grave. Being thus left
alone in the world, Michael Fray's love of
music, which had always been the most
marked feature of his character, had be-
come intensified into an absolute passion.
Evening after evening, when darkness had
settled on the city, and none could complain
that his music interfered with business or
distracted the attention from the noble
clink of gold, he was accustomed to creep
quietly into the church and there talk to
himself" as he called it, at the old organ,
which answered him back again with ten
der sympathy and power of consolation
which no mere human listener could ever
have afforded.
The organ of st. Winifred was of COM
paratively small size, and made but scanty
show Of pipes and pedals; but the black
ened case and yellow, much-worn keys had
been fashioned by the cunning brain and
skillful fingers of ''Father Smith" himelf,
and never had the renowned organ n-builder
turned out more skillful piece Of work.
manship. And Michael Fray, by use Of
years and tender study, had got by heart
every pipe and stop in the rare old instru-
ment, and had acquired an almost magical
power in bringing out its tenderost notes
and noblest harmonies.
Hear him this Christmas Eve, as he sits
before the ancient keyboard, one feeble
candle glimmering over the well-worn page
before him; Pickering wierdly over the
ancient carving, and calling into moment
ary life the efigies of mitred abbot and
mailed crusader. A feeble old man, whose
sands Of life have all but run out; q sadly
weak and tremulous old man, with sinking
hands, and dim, uncertain eyes But
when they were placed upon those yellow
keys the shaking hands shake no longer
the feeble sight finds no labor in those well
remembered pages. Under the touch OF
Michael Fray's deft fingers, the ancient
organ becomes instinct with life and har-
mony. The grand old masters lend their
noblegt strains, and, could they revisit
the earth, need ask no better interpreter,
From the saddest wall of sorrow to sweet
est strain of consolation-from the diIge
of the loved and lost to the psean of the
iubilant victor-each shade of human pas
sion, each tender message of divine encour-
agoment, takes form and color In success
sion, under the magic of that old mans
touch. Thus, sometimes borrowing the
sonps of other singers, sometimes wander,
ing into quaint Eolian hannonies, the
snontaneous overflow of his own genius,
Michael Fray sat and made music, charm
;rc the sorrow to temporary sleep,
Time crept on, but the player needed il
not till tie heavy bell in the tower above
hiaheadooomed forth the hour OF midngh
and called him to reality again. With TIVE
or thee wailing minor chords he brough
hid weird improvisation to an end.