Devils Lake inter-ocean. (Devils Lake, Ramsey Co., Dakota [N.D.]) 1884-1905, 1886-06-05

1Ou 6GO, IL D Luc Ed8e, uko tu0 htudlotlF 6lAp0s
or coaching, lawn.tennis. or hunting;
So. though. I'm SO queer. l go yachting each
And hoist on the so'ent my bunting.
= London Punch.
THE POWER OF SONG.
One time / had to take a train and
ride in the caboose. It was full of
Irish laborers just drunk enough to be
noisy when we started, and as the
night wore on the whisky won't in, and
they soon had things their W way.
1t was pandemonlum let loose. The
conductor and brakemen were helpless.
I had pretended sleep in n corner,
but it was no use, for soon a big, bur-
~ fellow tumbled ovcr me. and out l
came, just about US angry as a Chris
tain ever should got. Things were
coming to q crisis, when the conduc-
tor interfercd, but that only made mat
ters worse. He had drawn the atten-
ton of my Irishmen, h~owevers.and l
had time to think. There were at Toast
twenty-five against the conductor, the
brakeman, and myself. l happened to
think of the exile of Erin" and of
an old tune that my father used to sing
it to. Father was of Scotch descent,
but had learned Irish melodies from
my mothers people.
So 1 walked up to one who was mel
low enough to be tender-hearted, and
too far gone to be dangerous, and
holding him till I could whisper in his
ear, I said:
81 q sing the Exile of Erin"
You should have seen him then. He
yelled at the top of his voice:
''Howly mother! here's a fellah as
can sing the Exile of Erin.' Be still,
livery mothers soul of ye." But he
only succeeded with three or four, and
getting down with their heads all
around me (oh, the stencil of whisky
breath!) l sang to the old tune of the
''Blackbird'':
There E came to our beach a poor Exile of
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill,
For his country he sighed when at twilight
To wander alone by some wInd-beaten hill.
But before / could get at the rest of
the verse. or the other part of the tune,
had the whole carload about me, and
on top of me, and crawling over me,
with such requests to go on, and such
applause as would turn the head of
a professional musician. l think it
was about the worst singing l ever
heard, but the audience was moi criti-
cal, and each one screamed at the
other at the top of his voice 10 keep
still for tho life Of him, and lot tile
poor mar sing of Gould Ireland"
''God bless the sowl of him! Ill 20
ye my months wages that he's an
lrishman himself away back"
After awhile they were all still as
death. and then:
ltGt the day-slar attracted his sad eyes devo.
tinn.
For it rose DER his own native isle of the
ocean,
Where cnce in the fire Of his youthful emo.
ton,
He sang the told anthem of Erin go Braxh
The French say that the man who
can get q hearing has already secured
half the business. had all OF it and
paused.
do you know any more of it?"
"Oh, yes. l know it all. and if you
will only sit down I'll sing, but if YOU
stand up and keep on interrupting me.
why, l cannot sing of course"
That settled it. They were clamorous
for more at whatever cost to them
selves, three or four of them saying III
the same breath:
':Mc father used to sing it, and
mother used to sing it. and We all sang
it, in ould Ireland" Now my audience
was plastic and thoroughly Interested
"sad is my fatc.". said the hcart-brokeI
stranger,
The ~. wild deer and wolf to his covert car
But l have no refuge from famine and dan
ger,
A home and a country remain not to me.
Never again in the green sunny, bowerl
Where my forefatht RS lived shall ] spcnt
- the sweet hours,
Or cover my heart with the wild.woven
flowers, .
And strike TO the number of Erin &c
Some of you will smile when l tel
you how these poor men sat mute and
attentive, as their eyes filled with tear:
over old and sweet memories which
tloated off in the song of tho 'Grcer
Isle of the Ocean"
Call it o shallow sentiment if you
will, but the wise man said that by sor
row of the countenance the heart il
made better. And so I sang tho song
through to the end-''Erin Mavour
necn, Erin 60 Bragh."
boys. may | tell you something's
yes"
'.You'vo heard Tom Moore's otheI
song. haven't you?"
What one?"
leone, Ye Disconsolate.'"
'tOch, bedad! and did he do that
Would ye mind tip'in that to us tn
nightp"
So I sang that old, familiar hymn a
! mover sang it before. and the silenc'
and interest were unchanged.
Some had gone to sleep; l was 81
boarse l could hardly speak, when two
of them came. and, sitting down b,
me, said some tender and pleasan
things l shall never forget.
that last song and let them sing it will
mep Now this may all seem very drol
10 you, as it did at first to the conduc
tor, but when the time came to sepa
rate there was an audience somcwha
mixed in its appearance, but quite vel
behaved, listening to an improvise.
quartet. which sang:
Joy Of the desolate, light of the straying,
Hope, when all other dies. fadeless an
Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying
Earth has no sorrow that heaven canno
cure.
r.. w., in Advance.
A moderate drnker at twenty a
of age may expect to live 1876 years
Ct thirty. IS; ut forty. 11.6; ut fifty
lO.8; at sixty, SO. The probability 70