Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1889-02-06

himself before the instrument. 1t
only required few seconds to send a
hush over the room.
THAT old coon is going to give the
thing a rattle"
The sight Of man at the piano
was something so unusual that even
the faro-dealer, who was about to take
in $50 bet on the tray, passed and
did not reach for the money. Men
stopped drinking with their glasses at
their lips. Conversation seemed to
have been struck with sort of par.
alysis. and cards we're no longer shut
fled.
The old man brushed back his
long, white locks, looked up to the
ceiling, half closed his eyes and, in a
mystic sort of reverie, passed his fin
fiers over the keys. He touched but
a single note. yet the sound thrilled
the room. 1t was the key to his i'm.
provisation, and as he wove his chords
together the music laid its spell upon
every ear and heart. He felt his way
along the keys, like man treading
uncertain paths, but he gained conf
dence as he progressed, and presently
bent to his work like master. The
instrument was not in exact tone, but
the ears of his audience, through long
disuse, did not detect anything rad
ically wrong.
They heard q succession of grand
chords, and that 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" respond
ed a man with a stack Of chips in
his hand.
The player wandered off to the old
ballads they had heard at home. All
the sad and melancholy and touching
songs that came up, like dreams of
childhood, this unknown player drew
from the keys. His hands kneaded
their hearts like dough, and squeezed
out the tears as from 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 glories of the Wisconsin
naples and the haze of the Indian
summer blending their hues together;
they recalled the heather of Scottish
hills, the white cliffs of Britain, and
heard the sullen roar of the sea, as
it beat upon their memories vaguely.
Then came all the old Christmas
carols, such as they had sung in
churches 30 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 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 cabin, and
the player, laying his head on the
piano, fell asleep.
81 say, pard," said Goskin, you
want little rest"
81 do feel tired" the old man said.
Perhaps you'll let me rest here for the
matter of day or SO"
He walked behind the bar where
some old blankets were lying and
stretched himself upon them.
II feel pretty sick. guess / won't
last long. I've got a brother down
in the ravine-his name is Driscoll.
He don't know I'm here. Can you
get him before morning?"
Goskin started. He knew Driscoll
well.
He your brother. III have him
here in half an hour"
AS he dashed out into the storm the
pressed his hand to his side
and groaned. Goskin heard the word
hurry" and sped down the ravine
10 Driscol's cabin. 1t was quite
light when the two men ret urned.
Driscoll was as pale as death.
my God! hope he's alive.
him when we lived in Eng
and 20 years ago"
They saw the old man had drawn
The blanket over his face. The two
stood moment, awed by the thought
hat he might be dead. Goskin lifted
he blanket and pulled it down, as
,onished there was no one there!
Gone" cried DriscolI wildly.
Gone" echoed Goskin pulling
'ut his cash drawer. Ten thousand
lollars in the sack, too"