The Benton weekly record. [volume] (Benton, Mont.) 1880-1885, 1880-03-19
SAVED BY 4 SONG.

touch Of fog III the air. II was past ten
o'clock, and tile streets and lanes Of tho
great city were all but deserted. Merchant
and broker, clerk and Warchouseman, and
the rcst OF the busy crowd who had throng-
I'd those streets by day had one By one
drirtad away to their homes, and the lofty
warehouses doomed blank and forbidding
over the silent tholoughfares. Here and
there the gleam Of Il solitary window strug-
gled Intellectually 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 sense Of de5Olation more profound than
in st. Winfred's court. st. Wiutred' 5 is
one of those queer little alleys which inter-
sect the heart Of Eastern London, ana con
sists, with one exception, of houses let out
us offices, and utterly deserted at night,
The court l. bounded on the one side BY
st. Winfrcd's church, while iIr one corner
stands Il quaint old house, occupying Il
nearly triangular piece Of ground, and
forming the exception referred to, having
been for many years the residence of st.
Wintrcd's organist, Michael Fray.
The only sign Of life OH this Christmas
eve, in st. Winfreds court, was Il CLEAN
Of iiiekering tire-Eght proceeding from one
Of the windows Of the quaint three-eor-
ncrcd 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 desoIate, lis 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 liitlt or kin. Ills father and
mother had died in his early life, an only
brother, a gifted but wayWard youth, had
in early life ran away to sea, and had there
found 4 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 passi0lt
Evening after evening, when darkness had
settled on the city, and none could complain
that his music intefered with business or
distracted the attention from the noble
clinll of gold he was accustomed to creep
quietly INTO the church and there 'ttalll to
himself,' as he called it, at the old organ,
which answered him back again with a
tender sympathy and power of consolation
which no mere human listener could ever
have afforded.
The organ Of St. Wintred 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 ana
sllillful fingers of "Father Smith himself,
and never had the renowned organ-builder
turned ont q more skil1fd1 piece of work
manShip. And Michael Fray, by use of
years and tender study, had got by heart
every pipe ana stop i'll the rare old instrtt-
ment, and had acquired an almost magical
power i'll bringing out its tendercst notes
and noblest barmonies.
Hear him this Christmas eve, as he sits
before the ancient keyboard, one feeble
candle glimmering over the well-Worn
page before him, tliclering wierdly cTer
the ancient carving, and calling il,fo mo-
mentary life the etfigies Of mitEcd abbot
and mailed crusader. A feeble old man.
whose sands Of life have all but run out;
sadly weak and trcmulous old man, with
sinking hands, and dim, uncertain eyes.
But when theJ- We're placed upon those
yellow keys the shaking hands shake no
longer; The tcoyIe sight finds no labor in
those we'll remembered pages. Under the
touch Of Michael Fray's def fingers, the
ancient organ heeamcs instinct with life
and harmony. The grand old masters lend
their noblest strains, and, could they re
visit the earth, need ask no beJter inter
prefer y
From the saddest wall Of sorrow to the
sweetest strains Of consolation-from the
dirge Of the loved and lost TO the paan of
the jubilant victor-aach shade of human
passion, each tender message Of divine en-
c0nagement, takes form and color i'll sue
cess0n, under the magic Of that old mans
touch. Thus, sometimes borrowing the
songs Of other singers, sometimes wander
ing into quaint Eolian harmonies, the
spontaneous overflow Of hts own genius,
Michael Fray sat aud made music, charm
ing the sorrow to temporary sleep.
Time erept on, butthe player needed it
not till the heavy bell i'll the tower above
his head doomed forth the hour Of mid
night and called him toreality again. With
TWO or three wailin& minor chords he
brought his wiefd improvisation to an end.
Dear me, 2 he said with heavy sigh,
christmas again Christmas again. How
many times wonder will this be The last2
and yet Christmas comes again and finds
me here STILL alone. First poor Dick IND
then my darling Alice and little Nell--ali
gone Young, bright and nery-ail
taken! and here am I-old and friendless
and vet live on. Wei, I suppose God
knows best"
While thus thinking aloud, the old n1an
was apparently searching for something
among his musie books, and noW produced
an ancient page Of manuscript, worn al
most to fragments. butpastsd for preserva-
non on piece of paper Of later date.
Yes, here it is-poor Dicks Christmas
song What Il. sweet voice he had, dear
noy. # le hhd only liHed--bat there. I. q
I'm mnrmdrflg again. Coils VIII Be-
done.n y
ne placed tho music on the desk hefo3e
'liln, aud, after a moments pause, began i5lI
lender, tiute-like tones TO play the melody,
4 the same time grooming the words in n
ise'Ie voice. He played one verse Of the.
song, then stopped and drew his sleeve
across bis eyes.
lhe sense Of his desolation appeared to3
come anew upon him; he seemed TO shrink
ao#n donbly Old, doubIy feeble, aoubly
tofsaSet-when 10! \ marvel! Suddenly
''oili the lonely street, in that chill mid
aigat, came the sound Of asyiclin, ;tlld 81
s@eet voice singing tlIe self-EaIne tender
@'7-the song written by his.dead aud gone
''9.'ler forty years before.
!, ~ eiieeton Michael Fray was electrical
! sOf q moment he staggered. but caught at
ne key board before him aild held H ,s;tI
solHalsiYe grasp.
am dreaming, Or ate 5lig senses leity.. s
* ileS Poor Dick Christmas carol ata
pstiA almost N .ear tfte voice is tlsy 0Sffl