The Somerset press. [volume] (Somerset, Ohio) 1873-1977, 1881-07-07

er," he said. ''This is a nice country
for Christian to live in"
Getting a piece of paper he scrawled
the words:
eco Reward
-: To Compliant Pianer Player.
This he stuck up on the music rack,
and though the inscription glared at the
frequenters of the room until midnight,
it failed to draw any musician from his
she'll
hilarity grew apace. Men danced and
sang to the music of the squeaky fiddle
and worn out guitar, as the jolly crowd
within tried to drown the bowling of the
storm without. Suddenly they became
aware of the presence of white-haired
man crouching near the fireplace. His
garments, such as were left, we're wet
with melting snow, and he had q half
starved, half-crazed expression. He
held his thin, trembling hands toward
the fire, and the light of the blazing
wood made them almost transparent.
He looked about him once in while,
as if in search of something, and his
presence cast such chill over the place
that gradually the sound of revelry was
hushed, and it seemed that this waif of
the storm had brought in with it all the
gloom and coldness of the warning ele-
ments. Goskin. mixing up cup of
egg-nog, advanced and remarked cheer
ly:
'sHere, stranger, brace up! This is
the real stuff "
The man drained the cup, smacked
his lips and seemed more at home.
'Been prospecting, eh? Out in the
ly night, this!'
stPretty bad," said the man.
''Must feel pretty dry?"
clothes and laughed, as if Goskin's re-
mark was sarcasm.
'tHow long out?'
"Four days"
'sHungry?"
The man rose up and walking to the
lunch counter, fell to work on roast beef,
devouring it like any wild animal would
have done. AS meat and drink and
warmth began to permeate the stranger,
he seemed to expand and tighten up.
His features lost their pallor, and he
grew more and more content with the
idea that he was not in the grave. As he
underwent these changes the people
around him got merrier and happier, and
threw off the temporary feeling of de-
preston which he had laid upon them.
Presently his eye fell upon the piano.
"Where's the player ?" he asked.
''Never had any," said Goskin, blush
ing at the confession.
81 used to play when was young"
Goskin almost tainted at the admis-
sion.
Stranger, do tackle it and give us
tune. Nary man in this camp ever had
the nerve to rastle with that music box.
His pulse beat faster, for he feared that
the man would refuse.
'tI'll do the best can," he said
There was no stool, but seizing can
die box, he drew it up and seated him
self before the instrument It only re-
quired a few seconds for hush to come
over the room.
''That old coon is going to give the
| thing rattle"
The sight of man at the piano was
something SO unusual that even the faro
dealer who was about to take in $50
bet on the tray, paused, and did not
reach for the money. Men stopped drink
ing with the glasses at their lips. Con-
versation appeared to have been struck
with sort of paralysis and cards were
no longer shuff1ed.
The old man brushed back his long,
white locks, looked up to the ceiling,
half closed his eyes, and in mystic sort
| of reverie passed his fingers over the
keys. He touched but a single note, yet
the sound thrilled the room. It was the
key to his improvisations, and as he
wove his chords together the music laid
its spell upon every ear and heart. He
felt his way along the keys like a man
treading uncertain paths, but he gained
confidence in his work like q master.
The instrument was not in exact tune,
but the ears of his audience, through
long disuse, did not detect anything
wrong. They heard succession of grand
chords, suggestion of paradise, melod-
les here and there and it was enough.
s'See him counter with his left !" said
the old rough, enraptured.
"He calls the turn every time on the
upper end of the board" responded Q
man with stack of chips in his hand.
The player wandered off into the old
ballads he had heard at home. All the
sad, and melancholy, and touching songs
that came up like dreams of childhood,
this unknown player drew from the keys
His hands kneaded their hearts like
dough, and squeezed out the tears as
from wet sponge. As the strains
flowed one upon the other, they saw
their home of long ago reared again
they were playing once more where the
apple blossoms sank through the sof
air to Join the violets on the green tur
of the old New England States; they
saw the glories of the Wisconsin naples
and the haze Of the Indian snmmel
blending their hues together; they saw
the heather of the Scottish hills, the
white cliffs of Briton, and heard the sui.
len roar of the sea as it beat upon their
memories vaguely.
Then came all the old Christmas carols
that they had sung in church thirty
years before; the subtle music that
brings up the glimmer of wax-tapers,
the solemn shrines, the evergreens, hol
ly, mistletoe, and the surpliced choirs
Then the remorseless performer planted
his final stab i'll every heart with "Home
Sweet Home"
When the player ceased, the GROVE
skunk away from him. There was NJ