Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1880-04-10
BUYS AID SELLS EXCHANGE
savEDRx A SONG.

SA - \ - oO4N
1t was Christmas Eve. A cold
old-fashioned Christmas, with snow
lying thick on the ground and still
falling heavily, with a touch of fos
in the air. 1t was past ten O'Clock
and the streets of the great citS
were all but deserted. Merchant
and broker, clerk and warehouse
men and the rest OF the busy croWC
who had thronged those streets by
day, had one by one drifted away
to their homes, and the lofty ware.
houses Ioomed black and forbiddine
over the silent thoroughfares. Here
and there the gleam of a solitary
window struggled 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 scene of desolation
more profound than in st. Wini-
fred's court. st. Winifred's is one
of those queer little alleys which
intersect the heart of eastern Lon
don, and consists, with one excep-
tion, of houses let out as offices, and
utterly deserted at night. The court
is bounded on one side by st. Win
fred's church, while in one corner
stands a quaint old house, occupy
ing a nearly triangular piece of
ground, and forming the exception
we have referred TO, having been
for many years the residence of, st.
Winifred's organist, Michael Fray.
The only sign of life, on this
Eve, in St. Winifredis
court, was a faint gleam of flicker
ing freight proceeding from one of
the windows of the quaint three-
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 since
that time Michael Fray had lived
1esolate, his only Solace being the
rare old organ, the friend and COM
panion 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 youth, an only brother, Il
gifted but wayward youth, had run
away to sea, and had there found a
Watery grave. Being thus left alone
in the world, Michael Fray's love
for music, which had always been
the most marked feature of his
had become intensified
into an absolute passion. Evening
after evening, when darkness had
settled on the city, and none could
that his music interfered
with business or distracted the at
tention from the noble clink of gold,
he was accustomed to creep quietly
into the church and there "talk
1f HIMSELF" as he called it, at the
Did organ, which answered him
back again with a tender sympa-
thy and power of consolation which
no mere human listener could ever
nave afforded. The organ of st.
was of comparatively
small size and made but scanty
;how of pipes or pedals; but the
case and yellow, much
worn keys had been fashioned by
he cunning brain and skillfal fin
gers of "Father Smith" himself,
md never had the renowned old
builder turned out more
'killfal piece of workmanship. And
Michael Fray, by use of years and
ender, loving study, had got by
heart every pipe and stop in the
are old instrument, and had ac-
Iuired an almost magical power in
bringing out its tenderest tones and
1oblest harmonieS.
Hear him this Christmas Eve, as
ne sits before the ancient keyboard,
,ne feeble candle dimly glimmering
lVer the WeIi-Worn page before
lim; fiickering Weirdly over the
ancient carving, and calling into
life the effigies of mitred
lbbot and mailed crusader. A
eeble old man, whose sands of life
nave all but run out; a sadly weak
md tremulous old man, with shak-
ng hands and dim, uncertain eyes.
But when they are placed upon
hose yellow keys, the shaking
lands shake no longer; the feeble
light finds no labor in those we'll
pages. Under the
ouch of Michael Fray's deft fingers
he ancient organ becomes instinct
With life and harmony. The grand
I'D masters lend their noblest
strains, and, could they revisit
aarth, need ask no better interpre-
er. From the saddest wall of sor-
'ow to sweetest strain of consolation
from the dirge for the loved and
Ost to the pean of the jubilant vic
.or-each shade of human passion,
zach tender message of divine en-
take form and color
n succession, under the magic Of
hat old mans touch. Thus, sOme-
lines borrowing the songs of other
singers, sometimes wandering into
luaint H1olian harmonies, the spon-
.aneous overflow of his own rare
genins, Michael Fray sat and made
music, charming his sorrows to
sleep.
Time crept on, but the player
needed it not till the heavy bell in
the tower above his head doomed
forth the hour of midnight, and re-
called him TO reality again. With
TWO or three wailing minor chords
he brought his weird improvisation
TO an end.
"Dear me-" he said, with heavy
sigh, s'Christmas again! Christmas
again! How many times, / won
Ter! Well, this will be the last /;
and yet Christmas comes again, and
fnds me here still, all alone. Dear,
dear! First poor Dick, and then
my darling Alice and little Nell
all gone! Young and bright and
nerry-all taken And here am /,
Did, sad and friendless, and yet |
live on, live on! Well, l suppose
God knows best.
While thus thinking aloud, the
DID man was apparently searching
for something among his music
books, and now produced an ancient
page of manuscript, worn almost to
but pasted for preserva-
ton on piece of paper of later
date.
ayes, here it is, poor Dicks
Christmas song. What a sweet
voice he had, dear boy. If he had
only lived-but there! Pm muir
muring against Gods WILL"
He placed the music on the desk
before him, and, after a moments
pause, began, in tender, hute-like
tones, to play the melody, at the
same time grooming the words in a
feeble voice. He played one verse
of the song, then stopped and drew
his sleeve across his eyes. The
sense of his desOlation appeared to
come anew upon him; he seemed
to shrink down, doubly old, dOubly
feeble, dOubly forsaken-when 10!
a marvel! Suddenly from the lonely
street without, in that chill mid
r,irrl,t f.ar,ne the sound of q vinlin.