Stephens City star. (Stephens City, Va.) 1881-1883, 1881-10-08

hide if he amt Yes, says I, Dick
count me as your friend whenever yor
like. There's bed for you, and the
same fare as has myself, whenever
you like to claim EN-; and if we can't fine
you another 'sit somewheres directly
it's pity. Blow me, it's pity p
"Tom Hornby, you're a good-Eearted
fellow" returned the violoncello, CRATE
fully, as his stolid face relaxed little
before the bassoon's genial smile. ga
useless, old, worn-c ut blessing like
mine amt much to give anybody" he
continued, "but such as it is, Tom, take
it to your kindness and may yor
never have such black world before
you as I've got now"
They shook hands; the bassoon
stepped through the little narrow door
beneath the stage, and his companion,
bearing his unwieldy violoncello, extin-
gushing the last gas-jet as he followed
him.
"Good night, Dick; and don't be
down-hearted, old man. Your next en-
gagement II make amends"
"Good night, Tom Hornby; God
bless YOU"
Again they shook hands; then bas-
soon whistled off into the hurrying
crowd at the stage door, and violoncello
turned to face the wind the other way.
Out into the bleak street, where tiny
yellow rush lights of lamps cast a
melancholy glimmer or two upon
crowds of hurrying faces, some fat and
round, some red and we'll favored, all
hurrying along through the little snow
dots which the wind blew about.
Old violoncello buttoned his rusty
coat close. and turned up the collar as
if the wind might find that an obstacle
in its attacks upon his scraggy old
throat, whilst he hugged that dingy big
fiddle of his tight against his body,
and settling his eyes straight before
him, dragged his trembling knees in
the direction they pointed. Up one
street and down another; along wide
white road, lined with tall white man.
sions; down narrow, wriggling, dark
alley. lined with ricketylodging-h houses.
On he trudged through the gray, pulpy
mud of trampled snow.
On and on to the dreary blank of
future which lay before him, the old
lack-lustre eyes fixed in that straight
forward look of despair, the cold lone
Illness steadily settling down upon his
aged heart to brood there. For the
season was over, and old violoncello had
struck his last chord at the hall.
''You see, Dobbs," the leader of the
orchester had said, "now the full
seasons over, it's unreasonable to ex-
pect the management to keep up such
a band, so, much as it goes against me
to say it, we must part"
"Quite right" had chimed in the
with the ferocious moustache.
" Establishment expenses must be cut
down, my man everybody can't stop
On so there you are Might as we'll
ask me to keep extra bandsmen out of
my own salery |"
So old violoncello struck his last
chord, and went with a leaden heart.
Good hearted Tom Hornby comforted
1im with hopes of that next engage
nent. But who would have him
Door, old, worn-out, deaf as he was,
Nobody, he said. And his heart sank
ike lump of cold lead as he thought !
If that answer.
The pulpy slush changed to white,
lntrodden snow upon the path the
treets were quieter and darker. Old
-ioloncello reached his humble lodging,
admitted himself by his latch key,
limbed the three flights of ricketty
tairs. In the tiny garret at the top
If them was fireless grate, a square,
White bed, table, chair, and win
low-one broken pane of which was
topped with brown paper. As he
lighted his two inches of lean candle
nd showed these, the old man sat down
lpon the chair and bent his gray head
lpon the table. No tear was in his
yes when he lifted them. He drew
lis violoncello closer to him /; he Rugged |
as he might favorite child ; then he
'ent his head once more upon the little
able, and his bow slipped to the floor
rom the numbed fingers which clasped
/.
Lower and lower burned the candle,
'hilst outside, upon the bars of the
white snow gathered
igher and higher as the flakes kept
alling.
When the blanched face was again
pturned the eyes were moistened.
$50 we've come TO it at last, have we.
Id fiddle 2" the old man rooonaJ -