Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1885-06-04
The Sturp Teller.
REUBEN.

It was legacy from the father who had
left him to the care of Uncle Josiah, the
brother of Reuben's long dead mother.
The strongest memory Reuben retained of
his father was mind picture of a white
haired man sitting up in bed with the below
ed violin in his hands, filling the poor attic
room with sweet sounds. He was partially
paralyzed even then, and later, when his
fingers became helpless, his heart broke
and he died.
Then Uncle Josiah came from the coun-
try to the great city, and took the lad home.
At the bottom Of the hair trunk containing
all Reuben's possessions, were safely stored
the violin and case, with a score of music
the dead musician had left his boy.
On the farm in Jersey Reuben found q
rough, kindly welcome. Aunt Polly cried
a little over the orphan; Sue and Jennie,
kindly maidens, kissed and caressed him,
and Daisy, whose blue eyes were like twin
violets, stole shyly up to the dark-haired
lad and slipped a slice of cake into his
hands. 1t was q busy hive, the old farm
house, where no drones found place.
Uncle Josiah disapproved altogether of the
violin. Never had he heard of fiddler
blowing a field or raising stock. Never
scraping a catgut, and more than once in
stant destruction was threatened to Reu-
ben's one pleasure. He grew afraid to
raisethe sweet sounds he loved, inside of
the farmhouse, and would steal away to
practice the lesson his father had taught
him, by the brook side, in the whispering
woods or the shady lanes.
Nobody loved his violin but Daisy.
Daisy would softly touch the string and lis
u&o<ll nd oh pOlnr whom
Reuben woke the spirits of music with his
bow. Sue and Jennie did not object to a
good lively dance tune; but only Daisy
would follow Reuben into the wood where
dreams foated into the sweet melodies, and
the bow and string talked in music's own
language. Daisy alone knew of the lonely
walks with the dear companion and Dali
sy's lips would quiver and her blue eyes
fill when the boy whispered in her ear OF
his heart hunger.
Years passed by and the boy became a
man.
s'Scarcely worth his SALT" Uncle Josiah
pronounced him, and yet loved him we'll,
for his gentle obedience, his willingness to
perform any task however distasteful.
ga dreamy gawk in everybody's way"
Sue and Jennie said, but saved the choicest
bit of dainty country fare for Reuben.
ga poor weakly body" Aunt Polly said,
and her touch was soft on Reuben's hair,
while she sighed gently, convinced that the
pale, thin cheeks would never grow round
or rosy, but ''likely rest under the daisies"
she thought, pityingly.
Only Daisy really understood the sensl-
tive nature, the tender heart, the starving,
longing intellect. Only Daisy grieved when
the long, delicate hands blistered and bled
over rough work, and would never harden.
Only Daisy, as maidenhood came, shrined
Reuben in her heart of hearts, and knew
no other could ever take his place.
, ONLY Daisy filled Reuben's heart! Or all
the rough life around him, there was only
one gentle influence to keep his heart from
breaking. The fair, blue-eyed girl, with
hair like floss silk, alone understood him
When he talked of the books he had bor-
rowed from the minister, and eagerly pc
rused. Daisy alone kept him from the utter
despair of heart loneliness.
So these young hearts, in eleven long
years, learned the story of mutual truth,
mutual dependence, sympathy, tenderness
and devotion, which we call love.
On the day when Reuben was tWenty-one
he told Uncle Josiah he loved Daisy, and
Uncle Josiah sadly shook his head.
"You'll never be able to keep wife,
too we'll to trust her to you. Why, Just
look at it, lad you've never earned full
days wages since you came to the farm. If
you'd give up your foolish fiddling, now,
you might make something of yourself, but
as long as your heart is in that saving and
scraping you'll be good for naught else.
It's my advice to you to smash the fiddle
over the first rock, and then I'll talk to you
about Daisy"
Break his violin! Destroy his dearest
friend, his sole comfort! But for Daisy:
lo, ~ do noIS
Perhaps Uncle Josiah was right: Per-
haps, if he had no outlet for the dreams
that filled his soul, they would cease to
haunt him, and he would conquer the mazy
routine of farm drudgery that was such
heart-breaking problem to him. Perhaps,
when all the phantoms that broke into
reality upon his violin were driven away,
he would be the practical farmer to whom
Uncle Josiah would give Daisy.
Musing thus, very sorrowfully, Reuben
took the violin from its case and went to
the woods, to an opening the country folks
called the fairy ring. Here he sat upon a
stone and played his farewell, dirge Of
hope. Great tears fell over his pale cheeks
as the weird melancholy strain echoed
through the space around him. Then he
wrapped the violin once, twice in his arms,
kissed it tenderly and lifted it high in the
air to smash it on the rock. But his heart
failed him. His arm dropped nerveless
at his side, and he stood motionless, looking
at his fathers legacy.
Suddenly there stepped into the opening
an elderly man, gray haired and dark-eyed,
and dressed in city cut-attire.
$50 you would smash your violin?" he
said. "You had better sell it, or, better
still, play on it. Was it you 1 heard play
ing as came through the woods:''
"Yes. Twas bidding my violin farewell"
"H'm! Play again for me-"
Gladly Reuben lifted his violin and drew
the bow across it.
81 will play you the Carnival of the
Birds" he said and there rose upon the
air such twittering chorus, here a saucy
trill, there busy chirp, then roulade, till
the very air seemed alive with songsters,
while under all a sweet melody throbbed
and melted into the softest strains.
'This is the Brooks Hymn" Reuben
said, and the rippling stream was Knocked
and echoed in faint, fantastic music.
"Who wrote these ?" the stranger asked.
"They were never written. They came
from my heart" was the quiet reply. 81
will play you some written music"
And again the violin obeyed the bow, as
the works Reuben had studied from his
fathers music rose upon the summer air.
And YOU were about to break your vio-
limp" the stranger said.
"Yes; for l can never be farmer while
my brain is full of music" was the sad
reply; ,o su.,ou .,o.
Would you not rather be musician"
Reuben's eyes glistened. Long he and
the stranger talked, and the sun was setting
when he turned his face homeWard.
"Unce Josiah,' he said, when all the
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