The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1885-01-22
HERR MUNsON's VIOLIN.
CHAPTER i,

CHAPTER ].
The last sweet strains of violin
foated out upon the still, frosty air
sad, solemn weird.
It was midnight. Crowds of people
were assembled in the little gothic
church of Gottingen, to watch the
death of the old year and the birth OF
the new. The bells tolled; and as the
last echo reverberated and died on the
air the faint, sweet melody of the violin
again was heard, like the wailings OF
departing soul.
The sad strains of the violin had
scarcely died away when the tinkling
of an molian harp was heard by the
passing listener, accompanied by q
sweet, dulcet voice.
The figure of q man approached the
tenement and stood for moment as
though paralyzed. How familiar the
strains. What fond memories were
stirred in the heart of the bronzed,
bearded stranger, occasioned by the
unconscious musician.
"A fine voice, thatr" exclaimed one
of the watchers, pausing moment, ad-
miringly; "and, by my faith, it is
master hand now sweeps the Tyre. But,
my friend, only some common strolling
musicians-a German Herr and his
pretty and clever little Fraulein. That
is ALL" and he hurried away, leaving
the stranger eagerly awaiting repeti-
ton of the heavenly strains and Sc
rsphic voice of the Little ill-appreciated
performer and her Tyre.
At length another stanza came. "Oh,
the dear old German words-the loved
and national air of the Fatherand."
The notes of the violin again fell on
his strained senses-a sweet, heart
rending dirge; and, waiting to hear no
more, the deeply affected stranger
sprang up two steps at time of the old,
dilapldated staircase, and burst without
ceremony into dimly Lighted but COM
Portable apartment, where dwelt the
subject Of our story.
Herr Munson half reclined on low
settee, his aged eyes fixed lovingly upon
the to him almost human friend which
he supported between his knee and
chin, and, passing his trained fingers
over the strings, he was about to repro
duce the last two lines of the dearly
loved and well remembered old Cor
man song, when the stranger appeared
upon the Threshold.
He paused entranced.
In low chair, dreamily gazing into
the golden mists of the future, was the
Aoveliest being that he had ever beheld.
Deep blue eyes, large aud lustrous;
ripping golden hair, sweeping in SHIN
mering splendor the ends of the we'll
worn rockers, and lovingly clustering
around the low, pure brow of the beau
1tiful, unconscious young dreamer;
cheeks OF delicate sea-shell pink,
delicately rounded; sweet, sensitive
mouth, incapable of anything akin to
deceit; nature trustf,l and loving,
innoeent of guile. Such was fair
Gretchen Murson, the fair lily of Ba-
valia, the undoubted queen of her old
doting fathers heart.
Not the least sign of recognition
crossed the startled face OF the won.
dering host as he arose to welcome his
informal guest. He babe him welcome,
pushing forward the only remaining
seat, and with native dignity BETTING
the custom OF his country, offered
pipe of huge dimensions, together with
q well-filled tobacco pouch 10 the
stranger.
1t was not long ere the Herr became
totally oblivious TO all present sur
roundings and circumstances, in dis
GUESSING events in the far-away lard of
his most blissful dreams, near the flow
ing Rhine; and over which he found
the stranger as enthusiastic and as
equally familiar with as himself or his
idolized Gretchen could be.
@But why not return to the Father
land, Herr Muuson," questioned the
stranger, "slnce you do not like Amer
icn, and are pining for old faces and IA
mfliar scenes?"
1.-THE scarcity of funds, to speak can
didly, alone prevents my Gretchen and
myself from Immediately embarking."
Then, seemingly aware of some lack in
hospitality, he arose and said:
beg pardon, stranger, bat this IS my
Gretchen-my only child. My dear,
our friend-our titled countryma1-
Monsieur Zanders." After which some
what lengthy and airy Introduction he
resumed his seat.
~You wish TO know why / tarry in
this, 10 me, uncongenial country. As
/ have told You, Monsieur, it
is lack of funds. And / may
tell you candidly, my friend,
this night not only sees the last OF the
old year, but the last of our freedom
and happiness, on earth. Do you know"
he said, while his bright gray eyes
kindled, and his voice grew husky with
.emot on, ito morrow morn am to lose
my all. The roof which kindly shelters
us from this nights cold blasts, and
which has succored me for years, is to
pass iu,o the hands OF strangers. But,
oh the worst blow OF all. Monsieur.
they will tear from rue this long-tr ed