Sharp County record., 1879-02-06

the name OF the Lnlng. III sure 1 uoh
mind it one bit" The shudder of hor-
ror which passed over the girls frame
gave the lie 10 her pious falsehood. 81
daresay it is not so very bad and, after
all, something may happen to preVentit
even nOw!n
"What can happen, short of o 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 troubles, and |
don't believe He will forsake US now"
As she spoke she drew her thin shawl
more closely round her, shivering IN
spite of herself under the cold blast,
which seemed to receive no check from
her scanty coverings. Again the pair
crept on, and pressing beneath the wall
of St. Winifred's Church, stood beneath
it for temporary shelter from the
driving wind and snow. While so
standing they caught the faint sounds
of the organ family pealing within.
"Noble music" said the old man, as
the final cords died away; 4" Noble mu-
sic, and a soul in the playing. That
man, whoever he may be, should have
a generous heart"
Hush, grandfather" said the girl,
she 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.
ga strange coincidence" the girl re-
piled.
Strange! it is more than strange |!
Lily, darling, g,who could play that songP"
The melody came to an end, and all
was silence. There was a 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
caroled forth the second verse of the
song. Scarcely had they ended, when
door opened at the foot of the church
tower just beside them, and Michael
Fray, bareheaded, with his scanty locks
blown about by the winter wind, stood
before them. He hurried forward, and
then stood still, shamefaced, bewildered.
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 hur-
ried forth forgetting the years that had
passed, full of tender memories of hap
py boyish days, to find, alas! only a
couple of wandering beggars, singing
for bread.
What?" he exclaimed, peering ca
gerly into the others face; "then you
are my brother Michael, for am Rich
ard Fray"
81 beg your pardon" he said, striv-
ing vainly to master his emotions; "you
sang song just now which-which-
a song which was favorite of a dear
riend of mine many years ago. Will
you-will you tell me where you gotit?"
"By the best of all titles, sir,n the
old fiddler aasgered, drawing himself
up with touch Of artistic pride; 81
wrote it 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 world" said the old
fiddler, waxing wroth-" then your
brother must have stolen it from me
What might this precious brothers
name be, prayP"
"An honest name, a name | am
proud to speak," said Michael, firing
up in his turn; his name was Richard
Fray!"
The old street musician staggered as
if he had received blow.
Half an hour later and the brothers
so long parted, so strangely brought to-
gether, were seated round a roaring fire
in Michael Fray's quaint, three-corner-
ed parlor. Michael's stores had been
ransacked for warm, dry clothing for
the wanderers. Drawers long closed
yielded, when opened, sweet scent OF
lavender and containing homely skirts
and bodices, kept still in loving memory
of little Nell, gave up their treasures fol
Lily's benefit, and Richard Fray's snow,
sodden clothes were replaced by Mich,
ael's choicest coat and softest slippers
The wanderers had done full justice tc
plentiful meal and a jug of fragrant
punch now steamed upon the hob and
was laid under frequent contributions,
while Richard Fray told the story Of
thirty years wandering, and the broth
ers found how it had come to pass that
each thinking the other dead, they had
lived their lives, and married, and bu'
ried their dear ones, being sometimes
but few miles apart, and yet as distant
as though severed by the grim Dividel
| himself.
And Lily sat on a cushion at hel
grandfather's feet, picture of quiet
happiness, aud sang sweet songs to
please the two old men, while Michae
/ lovingly traced in her soft features fam