Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1886-12-23

| L~ were chatting O.
| gether as they put on the final touches.
| ''Oh, dear, how glad am it is Finished -
| said gay Kate Blossom; my fingers are as
| rough as nutmeg-graters. Isn't it too bad
| that we couldn't have had the wedding?''
| "Hush!" said her companion, Alice Ba-
! ker, in a low voice; there is May com
! ing. She might hear you.''
| 'Well, she knows we are all her friends.
| 1 am sure l am as sorry as / can be for her;
| but l do think that Maurice Dawson is only
| music-mad, and if he would give up all that
! nonsense about lost chords and music
in the air. he would be as sane as any
| body"
But he is losing his health; it is affected
by his malady, so it must be real"
Nothing but memoranda. If some one
would burn up all that music, he would give
up trying to be genius, and attend to his
business"
''Look at May; isn't she sweeta" whis-
pered Kate.
She had just finished wreath Of ever
greens, and, while waiting for a place to
hang it, had thrown it over her head, where
it rested, giving to her fair, serene face the
look of one of Guido's saints. The stained
glass window at her back, and the intro
spective look in her dark eyes, added to the il
fusion. She was one of the favored few whom
every body loves, and as the girls regarded
her rapt expression they stopped working
and chatting, and became suddenly silent
At the same moment some one entered the
Organ-loft and touched the organ with a
practiced hand. The full, rich, pleading
tones rose high and swelled into grand
burst of exquisite music that maintained
its supremacy for one enhancing moment
then quavered and trilled, and wandered
off into an intricacy of unmelodious dis
cord.
"Poor fellow" said one of the girls, with
a shudder sit is dreadful to hear him.
May Allen took the wreath from her
head, and stepped aside from the halo of
light in which she stood. Her face was
TRANSPORTED.
ibid you notice how nearly he accom-
plished the closing strain in that cantata2
If he could have held the notes in the re-
peat, but that is where hs fails--only he
will succeed yet. I am sure that when he
does, he will be well again"
He ought to go to work!'' exclaimed
Alice Baker, impetuously. Il have no pa
thence with him.
"Work!'' retorted May, with sudden an
ger, which was rare to her, ''who works
harder than he to find and maintain that
equilibrium of music that is always escap-
ing and tormenting him: Do not the best
judges who have heard him say that his
compositions are wonderful. That he would
be to music what Poe was to poetry if he
could succeed. 1 wish I could help him."
She wrung her hands and burst into an
ecstasy of weeping.
All the young things crowded about and
kissed her, while Alice Baker pleaded for
pardon for her thoughtless speech. May
was too gentle and good to hold anger long
and peace was soon restored. But when
the girls had finished their work on the
church decorations, she slipped up stairs
and stood by the side of the mad must
cian,'' Maurice Dawson. He was nervously
lingering some manuscript notes that lay
on the rack before him.
''Is it the Christmas music, dear 90 she
asked, gently, as she stole to his side.
He started and laughed mirthlessly