Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1883-05-10
The Old Minstrel.

luC OlO mlUStTtls
The Opva hall was crowded. for the
famous mnstrels were giving benefit
performance. They had Just concluded
the sweet nfrain of the ..Swanee River"
The tumuf of applause was hushed by
the appearance of ragged old wreck
crowding o the front.
Lifting lis banjo as sign of brother
hood he ried with a choking voice:
..Boys, sing that song once more-once
more for apoor old minstrers sake. 1t
brings bacs the lost and dead; my old
home risssbefore me, where was once
good and iappy all the day. / learned
the song there Of my mother. The
vision of her smiling face praising the
boy comesback with the ringing notes
OF the banD and the memories of long
ago. wandered away to play and
sing for the world. 1t listened and APP
plauded. Twas battered, feasted, in
toxicated with fame and the whirl of
pleasures. But wrecked it all Now,
old and broken in heart and in strength
am left with but one friend my banjo.
No one listens to it, for the world has
found new favorites. and the old min
strel is turned away. She who first
praised me died while | was playing
for the worh-died without seeing me
for years. He left her for the world
died without seeing me for years. The
song she taught her boy led him from
her side. The world has forsaken him
as he did her. Boys, sing my mothers
song again, and let my old heart thrill
with a better life once moro >,
The house signalled its assent The
old minstrel sat down in the front row.
When the solo reached the concluding
lines OF the second stanza, the singers
eyes turned pityingly upon the wander
er, and with voice trembling with emo
ton came the words
IAN up and down this world l wandered,
When was young;
On, many were the days squandered,
Many were the songs sung
The stranger sat bending forward, the
tears coursing down the burrows of care,
his fingers unconsciously caressing the
strings of his battered banjo. Ali the
summer Of his life came back to his heart
again-motier, home, love, and all his
boyhood dreams.
The chorus began, and the shriyelled
fingers sought the chords, and with a
strange, weird harmony unheard be-
fore, the striins tloated along the tide
Of song. lac house was spell-bound.
The timeworn instrument seemed to
catch its masters spirit, and high
above the orchestra accompaniment
rang the soll-like chord from its quiv-
ering strings.
When the interlude came, the min
strel leaned over his banjo with all the
fondness of mother over her babe.
Not sound from either was heard.
The solo rose again and the almost
supernatural harmonies drifted with it.
But he bowed like mourner over the
dead. Every heart in the audience
was touched, and tears of sympathy
were brushed away by many jeweled
hand. The singers eyes were moist
and with plaintive sadness the last
lines were sung:
When shall hear the bees a humming
All round the comb
When shall hear the banjo tumming
Down IN my good old home.''
The last chorus followed. The hoary
head of the minstrel was lifted and his
face shone with the light of new dawn
ing. His voice joined with peculiar
blending, perfect in harmony, yet keep
ing with his banjo high above the sing
ers, rang like harp-string long over
strained. The memory of better days,
the waywardness, sorrow, remorse, hope
and despair of his life seemed pent up
in those marvellous tones. The chorus
closed and his head sank down, the
long white locks shrouding the banjo.
The manager came before the cur
tain and said: 1.-The Ministries give
one-half the benefit proceeds to the
wandering BROTHER The house ap-
proved with loud demonstrations. A
collection started in the galleries and
swept over the hall like golden show
er. The two sums were heaped to-
gether on the stage. Such contribu-
ton never graced the footlights before.
Again the audience broke forth in
round after round of heart-good
cheers
The banjo was stilled hushed under
the shroud of snow-white hair, and no
word of thanks or token of gratitude
came from the silent figure toward
which all eyes were turned. They call
ed to the stage and the manager went
to escort him there. He laid his hand
on the bowed hcad-The soul of the
old minstrel had wandered away once
more. He was dead. His heart had
sung that last song on the borders of
the spirit of land-sung it as the bird
sings when it escapes the prison bars
which makes life '.sad and dreary,''
and flies far away from the scenes
where "the heart grows weary long
ing. Council Bluff Nonpariel.