The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1884-03-13
ANTHONY MARSHALL'S DAUGHTER.

ANTHONY MARSHALL'S DAUGHTER.
At the intersection of an alley and an
obscure street, in an outlying portion Of
one of our great cities, stood low frame
house. A narrow walk extended along the
alley from the street to a side door of this
house, above which hung, on an iron frame,
swinging and creaking in the high March
wind, sign, upon which could be read
from the street,
ANTHONY MARSHALL, SHOEMAKER"
In small letters beneath was announced
the fact that repairing was neatly and
promptly done. The repairing was really
Anthony Marshall's business. He had
taken up the trade OF a shoemaker late in
life, and had never risen in it above mend
ing what others made.
In one corner of the small room, which
was his shop, stood a little old-fashioned
melOdeOn. On one side of the melodeon
were two violins in their cases. On the
other, a violincello and large improviSe1
rack which was full of worn music. On
the wall above these hung an excellent old
engraving of Beethoven. Beneath this was
a large-sIzed daguerreotype in home
made frame of cones, representing, when
you were in just the right light, young
girl of perhaps twelve years, with broad,
full brow, great, questioning, velvety eyes,
a wide, smiling, joyous mouth and a firm,
square little chin, softened by just the sug-
gestion of dimple. Suspended from the
same hook which held this portrait hung a
girls hat, battered and worn, the broad
band of which still held largo faded red
rose and bunch of withered green leaves.
Between where the instruments stood
and door leading into the front part of
the house was small bench for light car
pentering. On the other side CT the door
-zyas an open cupboard of shelves, contain
ing piles of newspapers, strap such as
newsboys use in carrying their packages
securely from the newspaper offices 20 their
"'beats," several piles of unopened boxes
of shoe backing, two shoe brushes, and
four triangles on a shelf by themselves,
ranged along neatly in the order of their
different sizes.
Near the one window, which looked oat
on the alley to the south and through the
small, uncurtained panes of which the sun
was streaming, sat Anthony Marshall on
the round leathern seat of his shoemaker's
bench.
"'When Other lips and other hearts 4"
sang Anthony Marshall
"Rat-ta-tat-tat- rang his
broad little hammer.
"'Their tales-of love'"-
"Rat-tat" went the hammer.
"'Shall tell"
Then the old man laid the hammer on the
bench at his side; pushed has spectacles
upon his bald head and bent over the
coarse boys shoe he was half-soling with
the peculiar close gaze of the near-sighted
Taking up his thin, sharp knife he pro-
-ceeded to trim off the battered heads of the
pegs; while with his under lip closed
tightly over the upper, he hummed through
TO its close the air which he had begun
while driving home the pegs.
His voice was a trifie thin, and had the
occasional quaver peculiar to age, but
there was in the undertOne singing and
humming of "And you'll remember me'' a
fine touch of finish and expression; while
now and again there was Il note so pure, so
sweet. so thrilling, that the mOulting canary
in the little cage hanging in the sun.
stopped the dainty arrangement of its
feathers, and with snOcUhed plumage ard
swelling throat, gave forth little trills IN
emulation.
An irregular, hurrYing step turned from
the street down the little walk along the
alley. The shop door was opened quickly
but quietly, and the old shoemaker raised
a surprised, questioning face to greet lad
who with an eager out-of-breath, so Uncle
Tony!" thrust himself with a sideling jerk
into the room. The boy was lame and
misshapen.
The old man raised his finger with a
warning glance toward the inner door.
The lads bright face fell little as he
asked:
us she particular to-day, Uncle Tony %
"RGther particular, Tim," with a side
turn of the head, "but why are you home:"
'Such luck!-Such news, Uncle Tony ="
4 cold gray color swept over the old
Enan's face. With drawn brow and lips
and anxious eyes he started up, overturn-
ing in his agitation the clamps with a
crash; and, dropping the shoe he was
snending, he exclaimed as he reached both
his poor old hands toward the daguerreo-
type:
Heard anything of Sara, Tim~
All the light faded from the boys face
as he shook his head slowly, and said,
sadly:
s.Not that, Uncle Tony; not so good as
that But then, Uncle Tony, my news is
real good; common good, You know. And
You couldn't guess what it is in year."
The cid man slowly set the clamps in
their place by the bench; picked up the
shoe and the stick of blackening with
which he was finishing the edge of the
sole; and sat down.
He looked at Tim. The boys disap.
pointed face touched his sensitive, gentle
heart, and he at once assumed a look of
still very pale.
"Weli, Tim, if can't guess, tell me-"
Tim hitched himself into chair and be-
gan to tell his news.
swell, you know Uncle Tony, how we
was talkin' yesterday about the op'rer, and
ABOUT IAiuc NHcH 1Ou uScU 10 play IN
the orchestrer, at that Lane Theaterin Lon
dom"
"Yes, Tim, in the orchestra at Drury
Lane Theater."
THAT'S it. Well, this mornin' after l
had sold out, 1 was just a-wishin' and
a-wishin' that l could get twenty shines to
do, as l did last year, so We could go ag'in;
for, oh, it was jest heavenly! and / was
=a-standin' before the main entrance of the
Grand Hotel, and a-thinkin' about that
-op'rer we went to last year and a-whistiin'
the theme you learned me and we play to-
gether, when two awful swell gentlemen
came along, one of 'em with his boots all
splashed. / said to him: Have q shine,
siri you need it,"
"He put his boot on the box and said:
where did you learn what you were just
now whistlin', my lad? Il heard it at the
op'rer, last year, and Uncle Tony learned
me to play it, Then be says: IS your
uncle a musicianT Says /: You
jest bet he isp where does he play? saws
b. and told him you played at home.
.