Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1881-04-19

reach for the money. Men stopped drink
ing, with their glasses at their lips.
Conversation appeared to have been
struck with sort of paralysis, and cards
were no longer shuffled.
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 single note, yet the
sound thrilled the room. II was the key
to his improvisation, 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 man treading
uncertain paths; but he gained conf
dence as he progressed, and presently
bent TO his work like a master. The in
strument was not in exact tune, but the
ears of his audience, through long disuse,
did not detect anything radically wrong.
They heard a succession of grand chords,
a suggestion of paradise, melodies here
and there, and it was enough.
"See him counter with his left - said
an old rough, enraptured.
Ale calls the turn every time on the
upper end of the board, responded 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 hand 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 Wis
consin naples and the haze of the Indian
summer blending their hues together ;
they saw the heather Of the Scottish hills,
the white cliffs of the Byiton, and heard
the sullen roar of the sea as it beat upon
their memories vaguely.
Then came all the old Christmas car
OILS. such as they had sung in church
thirty years before; the subtle music
that brings up glimmer of wax tapers,
the solemn shrines. the evergreen, holly,
mistle,oe and surpliced choirs. Then
the rcmorseless performer planted his fin
al stab in every heart with "Home,
Sweet Home.
When the player ceased the crowd
SUNK away from him. There was no
more revelry element left in the audience.
Each man wanted to sneak of to his cab
in, and write the old folks letter. The
day was breaking away as the last man
left the place, and the player. laying his
head down on the piano, fell asleap.
II say pard," said Goskin, don't you
want a little rest :"
II feel tired" the old man said.
Perhaps you'll let me rest here for the
matter of day or so :"
He walked behind the bar, where
some old blankets were lying, and
stretched himself upon them.
II feel pretty sick, guess | won't
last long. I've got brother down in
the ravine-his names Driscoll. He
don't know I'm here. Can't you get
him before morning: Id like to
see his face once more before ! die
Goskin started up at the mention of
the name. He know 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 "Hur
ry!" and sped down the revine to Dris-
coils cabin.
1t was quite light in the room when
the two men returned. Driscoll was
pale as death.
MY God. hope he is alive
wronged him when we lived in England,
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 blank
ct and pulled it down astonished. There
was no one there
"Gone" cried Driscoll, wildly.
''Gone !" echoed Goskin, pulling out
his cash drawer. Ten thousand dollars
in the sack, and the Lord knows how
much loose change in the drawer"
The next day the boys got out, fol
lowed horses tracks through the snow,
and lost them in the trail leading toward
Phoebe.
There was a man missing from the
camp. 1t was the three card monte man,
who used to deny point blank that he
could play the scale. One day they
found a wig Of white hair, and called to
mind when the stranger" had pushed
those locks back when he looked toward
the ceiling for inspiration, on the night
of December oath, lS6l.-Argonam.
Burlington Hawkeye.
NJ