The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1880-01-29


divine encouragement, take form and
color in succession under the magic of
that old mans touch. Thus, sometimes
borrowing the song of other singers,
sometimes wandering into quaint HEolian
harmonies, the spontaneous overflow OF
his own rare genius, Michael Fray sat
and made music, charming his sorrows
to temporary sleep.
Time crept on, but the player heeued
it not, till the heavy bell in the tower
above his head doomed forth the hour of
midnight and recalled him to reality
again. With two or three wailiEg minor
chords he brought his weird improvisa-
to an end.
"Dear me-" he said, with heavy sigh
sChrismas again Christmas again !
How many times I wonder. Each time
| think, well, this will be the last and
yet Christmas comes again and finds me
here still, all alone Dear me! First
poor Dick, and then my darling Alice
and little Nell-all gone! Young and
bright and merry-all taken! And here
am I. old, sad and friendless, and yet l
live on, live on Well, I suppose God
knows best 20 While thus thinking
aloud the old man was apparently search
ing for something among his music
books. and now produced an ancient
page of manuscript, worn almost to frag-
ments, but pasted, for preservation, on
piece of paper of later date.
"Yes, here it is; poor Dicks Christ
mas song. What sweet voice he had
dear boy If he had only lived But
there I'm murmuring again. God
will be done !"
He placed the music On the desk be-
fore him and after moments pause, be-
gan. in tender fute-lke tones, to play
the melody, at the same time grooming
the words in q 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
forsakep, when 10 marvel Suddenly
from the lonely street without, i'll that
| chill midnight, came the sound of vlo-
| lin end a sweet young voice singing the
self-same words to the self same tender
air-the song written by his dead and
gone brother forty years before.
The effect on Michael Fray was elec
trical. For a moment he staggered, but
caught at the keyboard before him and
held it with convulsive grasp.
cam I dreaming Or are my senses
carol. and I could almost swear the voice
is nv own lost Nellie's. Can this be
death at last? and are the angels well
coming me home with the song L have
loved so dearly? No, surely; either
am going mad or that is a real living
voice. But whose-whose Heaven hell
me to find out!' And with his whole
frame ouivering with excitement, with
ont pausing even to close the organ or t.
extinguish his fickering candle, the OH
man groped his way down the narrow
winding stair which led to the street,an
hurriedlv closing the door behind hlr
stepped forth bareheaded into the snow
night.
For some hours before Michael Fra
was startled, as we have related, by til
mysterious echo of his brothers sons
an old man and young girl had bee
!. making their way citywards from Il
5 southeastern side of London. Bo'
y walked YEARLY, as though they hi
g tramped a long distance, and once
d twice the young girl wiped away tea
Il though she strove hard to hide 1t fro
lc her COMPANION and forced herself
II sneak with a cheerfulness in strange co
IL trast with the sunken cheeks and to
t. sore gait. Every now and then, IN pa
'd ing through the more frequented stree
u they would pause, and the man, who c.
3 ried violin, would strike up some
le ballad tune with a vigor and power
III execution which even his frostnipr
III fingers and weary limbs could not who
a' al destroy; while the girl, with sw
On though very sad voice, accompanied h
er with the appropriate words. But til
al attempts were miserably unproductl
ne In such bitter weather few who co
az help it would stay away from their va
lly firesides: and those whom stern nece
;h- ty kept out Of doors seemed only b
yes on dispatching their several tasks,
AN to have no time or thought to expend
IA q couple of wandering tramps singing
olu the roadside. Still they toiled on, e7
nui now and then making fresh "pitch
laei some likely corner, only too often or
oer ed to s'move on" by stern pollcen
anu As they drew near to the city and
hao hour grew later, the passers-by bee
ol fewer and farther between, and the
no. wanderers felt that it was idle evel
seek for charity IL those deserted 5
he streets. At last the old man stopped
one groaned aloud.
the ssWhat is it, grandfather dear? I
ring give in now, when we have come sc
and Lean on me-do; I'm hardly tired
gles and dare say we shall do better
der. morrow
life "To- morrow said the old man
and terlv: tomorrow it will be too lat
ands don't mind cold; but the shame
they .he disgrace-after having struj
the against it all these years-to come
fee work house at last 1t isn't for my
we'll mind-beggars mustn't be choosers
ch of dare say better men than L have
cient in casual ward-but you, my t
and little Lily. The thought breaks
lend heart lit kills me - And the olt