The Russellville Democrat., 1881-11-17

| l1ouHbAlil5- --tduRiit III luS SAVihh4 1siNViy night, this?"
 Pretty bad" said the man.
 Must feel pretty dry"
 The man looked at his steaming clothes and laughed, as if Goskin's re. mark was sarcasm. l How long out?"
 -Four days"
 ! Hungry ?"
 over to the lunch counter, fell to work upon some roast bear, devouring it like any wild animal would have done. As meat and drink and warmth began to permeate the stranger, he seemed to ex- pand and tighten up. His features lost their palor and he grew more and more content with the idea that he was not in the grave. As he underwent these changes the people about him got mer- rier and happier, and threw off the tenn porary feeling or depression which he had laid upon them.
 Do you always have your place deco rated like this?" he finally asked of Cos kin.
 This is Christmas eve," was the reply.
 "December 24th, sure enough"
 That's the way l put it up, pard." When l was in England 1 always kept Christmas. but had forgotten that this was the night. Eve been wandering about the mountains until I've lost all track of the feasts of the church." Presently his eye fell upon the piano
 Where's the player?" he asked. Never had any" said Goskin, blush ing at the confession.
 "I used to play when I was young"
 Goskin almost tainted at the admis- sion.
 Stranger, do tackle it, and give us tune! Nary man in this camp had the nerve to wrestle with that music box" ]" His pulse beat faster, for he feared that the man would refuse.
 "I'll do the best I can," he said.
 There was no stool, but, seizing can dle box, he drew it up and seated him. self before the instrument. It only re- quirad few seconds for hush to come over the room.
 That old coon is going to give the thing a rattle."
 The sight of a man at the piano was something 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 drinking, with the glasses to their lips. Conversation appears to have been struck with a paralysis, and cards were no longer shuffied.
 The old man brushed back his long white locks, looked up to the ceiling half closed his eyes, and in a mystic sort of reverie passed his fingers over the keys. He touched but single note, yet the sound thrilled the room. It was the key to his Improvisation, and as he wove his chords together the music laid it's spell upon every ear and heart. He felt his way along the keys, like man tread ing uncertain paths; but he gained con- tidence as he progressed, and presently bent to his work like a master. The instrument was notin exact tune but the ears of his audience, through long dis use, did not detect anything very radically wrong. They heard a success sion of paradise melodies here and there and 1t was enough.
 "See him counter with his lett w said an old rough, enraptured.
 He calls the turn every time upon the upper end of the board" responded man with stack of chips in his hand. The player wandered off into the old ballads they had heard at home All the sad and melancholy, and touching songs, that came up like dreams of child hood, 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 homes of the long ago reared again; they were playing once more where the apple blossoms sank through the soft air to join the violets on the green turf of the old New England states; they saw the glories of the Wisconsin naples and the haze of the Indian sum- mer blending their hues together; they saw the heather of the Scottish hills, the white cliffs of Briton, and heard the sul- len roar of the sea as it beat upon their old Christmas carols, such as they had sung in church thirty years before; the subtle music that brings up the glimmer of wax tapers, the solemn shrines the evergreen holly, mistleto and surpliced choirs. Then the reinorseless performer planted his final stab in the very heart with "Home, Sweet Home"
 When the player ceased the crowd skunk from him. There was no more revelry and devilment left in the audi ence. Each man wanted to sneak off to his cabin and write the old folks a letter. The day was breaking when the last man left the place, and the player laid his head upon the piano and fell asleep.
 q say, pard," said Goskin, don't you want some rest?"
 q feel tired" the old man said. Per haps you will let me rest here for day or two2"
 He walked behind the bar, where some old blankets were lying, and stretch ed himself upon them.
 q feel pretty sick. I guess won't last long, I've got a brother down in the ravine-his name is Driscoll. He doesn't know that l am here. Can you get him before morning? I'd like to see his face before I die"
 1 Goskin started up at the mention Nf the name. He knew Driscoll well. "He your brother? I'll have him here in half an hour"
 | As he dashed out into the storm the musician pressed his hand to his side and groaned. Goskin heard the word hurry" and sped down the ravine to | Driscol's cabin.
 It was quite light in the room when l the two men returned. Driscoll was as | pale as death.
 My Godl l hope he is alive. wronged him when we were in England, 1 twenty years ago"
 | They saw the old man had drawn the ] blankets over his face. The two stood a moment, awed by the thought that he might be dead. Goskin lifted the blanket and pulled it down astonished. There