Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1881-08-07

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of the melody had hoatsd cut into the
night we beckoned him to seat and drew
from Aim his story. He was born and reared
gentleman-anyone could tell that from
the manner In which he took his seat and
listened to our questions.
"Why don't play in concert halls?"
he interrogatively answered. "Why
can't make name in the world as well?
Because, curse W. drink has me in his
power with the grasp of thousand fiends.
1 wasn't always like this. 1t was ages
ago, it seems to me, but only few
years in reality, that had wife, a child,
a home and fortune. The fortune was
left me by dying mother, and | deter
mined to move my family to the oil coun-
try and 60 into business, in hopes OF in
creasing my already comfortable store.
Like all men who live in the oil country
l tried my hand at specializing on the
market. If you know what it is to lose
a fortune at one fell swoop then you
know how | felt. Great God, what ag-
ony! Then took to drink and became
worthless wretch. 1t was an awful
fall. Those who are up the highest al
ways fall the lowest, and it seemed as
though l never should land anywhere
this side the great lake of fire. In one of
my saner moments l took my violin and
drifted out into the world, determined
not to drag down my wife and little girl.
Since boyhood l had been performer on
the violin and when arrived at manhood
was an accomplished musician. l
have been wandering ever since, without
home and friends. Merciful heavens,
where will it end!"
And IN voice tremulous with emotion
from thoughts of the happy past he leaned
back with his violin and sang softly:
Only poor old wanderer,
No place to call my home;
No one to pity me, no one to cheer me,
AS friendless and sadly roam.
The melody of the piece was full of
touching pathos, and as he ceased singing
he shook with suppressed sobs.
'tIhave come back to the oil country to
take one look at my family before drift
ing into oblivion" he said, slowly; "but
find my wife is-is-dead and my little
girl in the family of a driller out at the
front. God pity the little one and guide
her footsteps, for cannot What faith
er l ami But she shall not see me- l
will just look in at the window and see her
and then go away. 1 am powerless to do
anything for her, for cannot do any
thing for myself. 1 am going up to see
her in the morning. 1 love her just as
dearly now as lever did, the beautiful
little blossom. Oh, whata world, what a
world! Stranger, don't specu-
ulate in oil. And if you lose,
be manly enough to keep from the &C
cursed stuff that has killed my wife,
ruined me and will make my child path
way through life way of thorns and
briars Don't do it; don't. But good
night; tire you with my rawlings. Yes,
1 will go up to the old driller's house in
the morning and take last look at my
little girl"
A last look Yes, the very last, for
brown haired Baby was his only child. I
couldn' tell him the bitter truth. Itwas
cruel, perhaps, to let him 60 on in hope,
but couldn't tell him his only CLEAN of
hope in life was all ready to be laid away
under the pine trees and the wild flowers
in the lonely forest To take last look!
Heaven help the unfortunate wretch.