The Iowa plain dealer. [volume] (New Oregon, Howard County, Iowa) 1867-1895, 1881-06-02
HIS NExT ENGAGEMENT.

every one, from the big drum down to
the piccolo, are playing the national mn
them over said seasons grave to give il
decent burial. Even the first fiddle feels
out OF sorts. The hassoon has tear.
drop trembling on his left eyelash, and
let's il hang there, unconscious Of the
fact that all the while it glistens yisibly
in a tiny ray from the footl,ght. As for
the yiuloncello next Inn, that cliff
browed. set-faced, hoary. headed old vet
eran Of score OF two Of pantom,mes,
surely this particular pantomi,ne's death
erieyes him but little. Why should it
while he can twine his bony left arm
around that old violonccllo's neck rs il
II lived aud loved him; when lie can
bend his gray head to its strings and
hear the sweet pathoe Of their tones;
when lie can pass Ii long, skinny mnsi.
clans fingers fondiy over them to draw
forth rich, soothing, swelling. fal ing,
b. luaverng lip ami trembling eye-
lash when the last chord comesg
The chord Is struck aud over. Out Of
the orchest ra. and already ON his way
home, il the first violin: the cornct has
brought up the rear with cadenza mo-
rd.do; the big drum has closnl his last
roll; the second violin has packed mp his
tild,e-case; hassoon and v,oloneelle re-
main alone with the dying lights in the
hall.
.Dick = said the bassoon. quietly.
Poor old white.face violoncelln never
needed The lett arm Ia its r,,s,y sleeve
still clasp,d the Instruments heck i'll
tina, loving way tha old gray lead bent
down over the strings, with the eyes
closed.
Poor old chap T. observed the bas-
soon, pttying,y, rs he turned up his
coat-coliar and tucked his instruments
case under his arm. Bowed il he
amt playin' now =
nirk-Dick |" he repeated. tapping
the old vioinnc.llo Sood-naturediy on the
shoulder. Tbs old man opened his eyes
and awoke to the silence.
"Hallo, Tan Hornhy! What-all
gone? Thought lookedaronnih him
in aisappoi ted inquiry, and spoke in Il
tone uf In, S." L thought lie repeated
that second strain. Wed we'll How
deaf I'm getting, to he sure !" The rusty
black coat hcavea with sigh rs its
wearer rose and shut his music.
All gone but You, Tom?" lie said.
sorrowinlly. "Well. / won't deny
thought they might ha' wished me
'goud-n,gnt, or .good-ny, or something
OF the sort. for the last night: but |
won't grumble An old fellow who's Is
deaf as post and has nol,o,iv to mind
him amt no place III an orchestra. He'd
better get out Of the road rs quick IS he
can, and make no fuss about il. Friends
amt in his line"
"Now, come, Dick, old man." ex.
postnlated the bassoon, /" don't 90 for
to speak like that. You knows there's
one chap rs is sorry tor you-dssh my
hide ii Le amt! Yes. says I. Dick /;
count me As your friend whenever you
like. There's bed for you, and the
same fare M ! has myself, whenever
you like TO claim EN-: and, If We can't
lind you another sit somewheres
directly, it's pity. Blow me, its .
PITY - ,-.,
fellow. !" returned the yioloncello, CRATE
fully, q his stolid face relaxed little
n
useless, old. WORKOUT blessing like MINE
amt much 10 give any body" he con,
tinued. "but such Is it is, Tom, take ],
for your kindness; and may you never
have such black world before YOU ~
I've got now"
They shook hands; the bassoor
stepped through the little narrow dool
beneath the stage. and his companion
bearing his unwieldy violoncello. ex
tinguished the last gas. jet rs he followed
him.
Goodnight. Dick; and don't b.
down hearted, old man. Your next en-
gagement Ill make amends
Goodnight. Tom Horribly; Coz
bless YOU"
Again they shook hands: then has
soon whlstled Cd into the hnrryin;
crowd ut the stage-door, and violoncell,
turned To face the wind the other way
Out into the bleak street, where tin,
yellow flashlights of lamps cast u melan
choly glimmcr or two upon crowds Q
hnrryMg faces, some fat and round
eomo red aud well-iavored. some blu
aud ll-favored, all hurrying alon;
through tho little anow-dots which tn
wind blew about
Old violoncello huttoned his rust
coat close, and turned up the collar a
II the wind might tiad that an obstacl
in its attacks upon his scraggv ol,
thraAt, while he Rugged that dinsy hi,
fiddle Of his tight against his body, and
settling his eyes straight before hin,
dragged his trembling kuees in the d
rection they pointed. Up one street m
down another: along wide, whit
road, lu,ed with tall white mansions
down = narrow, wriggling, dark alley
ined with rickety lodging houses. @
he trudged through the gray, pulp
mud OF trampled snow.
On and on to that irearv blank Of II
ture which lay before him. the old laci
luster eyes fixed in that straightforward
look OF despair, the cold LONELINESS
steaaily settling down 9pon his age
heart to brood there. For the seaso
WAS over. and old violoncello had strac
his last cherd at the hall.
"You see, Dohhs," the leader Of III
orchestra had said. .now that the IN
seasons over. its unreasonable TO {.
pect the management To keep up such
hand, so. much rs II goes against me
say il, We must part.
.Qaite right" had chimed in ii
manager with felocioas mustach,
Establishment expenses must be {,
down. my man: everybody can't stop OF
so there you are Might as well ask m
to keep extra bandsmen out Of my ow
salary |"
81 the old vio.oncello struck his In
chord, and went with a leaien hear
Good-hearted Tom Horribly comforse
him with hopes Of that next engas,
ment. But who would have Lim-
poor, old. worn-out, deaf rs he was
Nobody. he said. And his heart san
like lump Of cold lead as he though
ct that answer.
The. pulpy slush changed 70 whit.
unfrodden snow upon the path; tL
streets were Qnie'er and darker. Oh
violonoello reached his humble lodgine
admitted himse hy his latch-ke,
climbed the three flights OF ricket
stairs. In the tiny garret at the top o
them WAS . tireless CRATE, . square whit
Nd kAklN = rtas.