The Washington critic., 1886-01-21
THE OLD VIOLIN.

THE OLD VIOLIN.
II was legacy from the father who
had died before Reuben was 10 years
old, and 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 white haired man sit
ting up in bed, with the beloved violin
in his hands, filing the poor attic
room with sweet sounds. He was par
TALLY paralyzed then, and later, when
his fingers became helpless, his heart
broke and he died.
Then Uncle Josiah came from the
country to the great city and took the
lad home. AT the bottom Of the hair
trunk containing all of Reubens pos
sessions were safely stored the violin
and case, with score of music the
dead musician had left his boy.
On the farm in Jersey Reuben found
a rough, kindly welcome. Aunt Polly
cried little over the orphan; Sue and
Jennie, kindly maidens, kissed and
caressed him; and Daisy, whose blue
eyes were like violets, stole slyly up to
the dark haired lad and slipped n slice
of cake into his hand II was busy
hive, the old farm house, where no
drones found place.
Uncle Josiah disapproved altogether
of the violin. Never had he heard of
fiddler plowing a field or raising stock.
Never had he seen any practical good
come from scraping catgut, and in
more than one instance destruction was
threatened Reuben's one pleasure. lie
grew afraid to raise the sweet sounds
he loved inside the farm house, and
would steal away to practice the lessons
his father had taught him by the brook
side, in the whispering woods, or in
the shady lanes. Nobody loved his
violin but Daisy. Daisy would often
touch the strings and listen with parted
lips and shifting color when Reuben
woke the spirits of music with his
bow.
Years passed away, and the boy be-
came man. Scarcely worth his
salt" Uncle Josiah pronounced him.
and yet loved him well for his gentle
obedience and his willingness to per-
form any task
"a dreamy gawk, in cverybody's
way" Sue and Jennie said, but saved
the choicest bit of the dainty country
fare for Reuben.
Only Daisy really understood the
sensitive 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
filed Reuben's heart. 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 81 he told Uncle Josiah he
loved Daisy, and Uncle Josiah sadly
shock his head
You'll never be able to keep wife,
Reuben he said; "never / love
Daisy too well to trust her to you.
Why, look at it, lad; you've never
earned full days wages since you
came to the farm. If you'd give up
your foolish flddling, 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
that fiddle over the first rock, and then
I'll talk to you about Daisy"
Break his violin Destroy his dear
est friend, his sole comfort ! But for
Daisy-what would he not do for
Daisy?
Musing thus, very sorrowfully, Reu-
ben took the violin from its case and
went to the woods. Here he sat upon
huge stone and played his farewell,
dirge of hope. Great tears fell over
his pale cheeks as the weird, melan-
choly strain echoed through the space
around him. Then he wrapped the
violin once, twice, in his arms, kissed
ii tenderly, and lifted it high into the
air TO smash IL on rock. But his
heart failed him; his arm dropped
nerveless to his side and he stood mo-
tionless, looking at his fathers
legacy.
Suddenly there stepped into the open
ing an elderly man, gray-haircd and
dark eyed, and dressed in city attire.
$50 you would smash your violin 2"
he said. you had better sell it; or,
better still, play on it. Was it you |
heard playing as l came through the
woods 2"
Yes. was bidding my violin fare,
we'll"
"H'm Play again for me"
Gladly Reuben lifted the violin and
drew the bow across it, 81 will play
you the Carnival of the Birds, ," he
said This is the Brooks Hymn, "
Reuben said.
"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,
MS the works Reuben had studied from
his fathers music rose upon the sum
mcr air.
And you were about to break your
violin % the stranger said
Yes; for | can never be farmer
while my brain is full of music" was
the sad reply.
"Ah! You want to be farmer,
thenY Would you not rather be a
musician ?"
Reuben's eyes glistened. Long he
and the stranger talked, and the sun
was setting when he turned his face
homeward.
"Uncle Josiah" he said, when all
the chores were done, and the farmer
rested ON the moonlit porch, "if in a
year can bring you proof that can
support Daisy win you give her to
me ?"
II will," was the hearty reply,
Have you broken your fiddle, Reu.
benz"
mo; and ] am going to leave you