Morning appeal. [volume] (Carson City, Nev.) 1877-1906, 1889-12-22


al used to play when was young
Goskin almost tainted at the admis-
sion.
"Stranger, do tackle it and give us
a 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
the others, refuse him.
"I'll do the best can," he said.
There was no stool, but Selling
candIe-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 a rattle"
The sight of a man at the piano
was something so unusual that even
the faro-dealer. who was about to take
in fifty dollar 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 a sort of paraly-
sis and cards were no longer shuffied,
The old man brushed back his long
white locks, looked up to the ceiling,
half closed his eyes, ard in a 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 its spell upon every ear
and heart. He felt his way along the
keys, like a man treading uncertain
paths; but he gained confidence as he
progressed. and presently bent to his
work like a master. The instrument
was not in exact tune, but the ears of
the audience, through long disuse. did
not detect anything radically wrong.
They heard succession of grand
chords, suggestion 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 dreams of |
childhood, 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 an
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, blend
their hues together; they recalled the
of Scottish hills, the white
cliffs of Britain, and the sullen roar of
the sea, as it beat upon their memories
Then came all the old
Christmas carols, such as they had
sung in church thirty years before;
the subtle music that brings up the
glimmer of wax tapers, the solemn
'hrines, the evergreen, holly, mistletoe
and surpliced choirs. Then the re-
morseless performer planted his final
stab in every heart with .'Home Sweet
When the player ceased, the crowd
SUNK away from him. There was no
more revelry and devilment left in his
audience. Each man wanted to sneak
,ff to his cabin and write the old folks
asst man left the place, and the player
/ letter. The day was breaking as the
wing his head down on the piano, fell
lsleep.
al say pard," said Goskin, "You
want little rest?" /
"a do feel tired" the old man said.
Perhaps you'll let me rest here for
he matter of day or So"
He walked behind the bar where
ome old blankets were lying and
stretched himself upon them.
al feel pretty sick. Iguess won't
asst long. I've got brother down in
he ravi,e--his names Driscoll. He
ion't know I'm here, Can you get
him before morning?"
Goskin started. He knew Driscoll
we'll.
HE your brother? I'll have him
,ere in half an hour"
AS he dashed out into the storm the
musician pressed his hands to his side
md groaned. Goskin heard the word
Hurry" and sped down the ravine to
0riscoll's cabin. 1t was quite light in
he room when the two men returned
)riscoll was pale as death. II