St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1888-12-25
TOM COSKIN'S new PIANO.
A Christmas Carol of the Merry Mining Camp and the
Monte Man With Longing and
Hungry Look.
Ten Thousand Dollars in the Sack and "Home, Sweet
Home" by Player With
Fleet Horse

the real StuH.
The man drained the cup, smacked
his lips, and seemed more at home.
"Been prospecting, hey? Out in the
mountains caught in the storm9 Lively
, night, thiS!"
"Pretty bad,'' said the man.
Must feel pretty dry"
| The man looked at his steaming
clothes and laughed, as if Goskin'S re-
mark was a sarcasm.
/ How long out?'
"Four days"
Hungry"
! The man rose up. and, walking over
| to the lunch counter. fell to work upon
some roast bear, devouring it like any
wild animal would have done. As meat
and drink and warmth began to per-
i meate the stranger, he seemed to ex-
pand and Tighten up. His features lost
their pallor, and he grew more and more
content with the idea that he was not
in the grave. As he underwent these
| changes. the people about him got mer-
rier and happier. and threw off the feel
ing of depression which he had laid
upon them.
''Do you always have your place dec
grated like this?" he finally asked of
| Goskin.
This is Christmas eve," was the
! reply.
The stranger was startled.
december twenty fourth, sure
enough"
That's the way I put it up, pard."
"When l was in England | always
kept Christmas. But | had forgotten
that this was the night. I've been
wandering about in the mountains until
I've lost track of the feasts of the
| church,
Presently his eye fell upon the piano.
where's the player?' he asked.
| 'Never had any," said Goskin, blush
ing.
Il used to play when was young"
| GoSkin almost tainted at the admiS-
| sion.
stranger, do tackle it and give us
| tune! Nary man in this camp ever had
! the nerve to wrestle with that music
| box" His pulse beat faster, for he
| feared that the man would, like all
others, refuse him.
''rll do the best | can," he said.
There was no stool, but Selling a
| candle-boX, he drew it up and seated
himself before the instrument. 1t only
required few seconds for hush to
come over the room.
THAT old coon is going to give the
! thing rattle"
The sight of a man at the piano was
something so unusual thate the faro
| dealer, who was about to take in $50
bet on the tray, paused, and did not
| reach for the money. Men stopped
drinking with the glasses at their lips.
Conversation appeared to have been
struck with sort of paralysis, and
cards were no longer shuffied.
The old man hruchad hoal- b1c JoDo
white locks, looked up to the ceiling,
half closed his eyes, and in mystic
sort OF reVerie passed his fingers over
the keys. He touched but single note,
yet the sound thrilled the room. 1t was
the key to his improvisation, and as he
wove his chords together the music laid
It's spell upon every ear and heart.
He felt his way along the keys, like
man treading uncertain paths; but he
gained confidence as he progressed. and
presently bent to his work like 4 mas
ter. The instrument was not in exact
tune, but the ears of his audience,
through long diSuse, did not detect any
thing radically wrong. They heard a
succession of grand chords, sugges-
ton of melodies here and there, and it
was enough.
See him counter with his left" said
an old rough
'He calls the turn every time on the
upper end of the board" responded a
| man with stack of chips in his hand.
The player wandered off into the old
| ballads they had heard at home. All
the sad and melancholy, and touching
songs that came up like DIRE ans of child
hood, this unknown player drew from
the keys. His hands kneaded their
| hearts like dough, and squeezed out the
tears as from a wet sponge. As the
strains flowed one upon the other, they
saw their homes of the long ago reared
again; they were playing once more
where the apple-blossOmS sank through
the soft air to join the violets on the
green turf of the old New England
states: they saw the gl0rieS of the Wis
dian summer blending their hues to-
gether; they recalled the heather of
Scottish hills, the white cliffs of Brit
ain, and heard the sullen roar of the
sea, as it beat upon their memories
vaguely. Then came all the old Christ
mas carols, such as they had sung i'm
church thirty years before: the subtle
music that brings up the glimmer of
wax tapers, the solemn shrines, the
evergreen, holly, mistletoe and sur
pliced choirS. Then the remorseless
performer planted his final stab in every
heart with ''Home, Sweet Home"
When the player ceased the crowd
skunk away from him. There was no
more revelry and devilment left in his
audience. Each man wanted to sneak
off to his cabin and write the old folks
letter. The day was breaking as the
last man left the place, and the PLAYER.
laying his head down on the piano, fell
asleep.
Il say, pard," said Goskin, you want
little rest?'
Il do feel tired" the old man said.
perhaps you'll let me rest here for the
matter of day or s0.''
He walked behind the bar where some
old blankets were lying and stretched
himself upon them.
Il feel pretty sick. l guess | won't
last long. Eve got brother down in
the ravine-his names Driscoll. He
don't know I'm here. Can you get him
before morning.
Goskin started. He knew Driscoll
well.
s'He your brother? I'll have him here
in half an hour"
As he dashed out into the storm the
musician pressed his hand to his side
and groaned. Goskin heard the word
Hurry and sped down the ravine to
Driscol's cabin. 1t was quite light in
the room when the two men returned.
Driscoll was pale as death.
My God. | hope he's alive, L
wronged him when we lived i'll England,
twenty years ago."
They saw the old man had drawn the
blanket over his face. The two stood a
moment. awed by the thought that he
might be dead. Goskin lifted the
blanket and pulled it down astonished.
There was no one there,
Gone cried Driscoll, wildly.
Gone" echoed GoSkin. pulling out
his cash drawer. Ten thousand dollars
in the sack. too