The record-union., 1891-01-18
sheets, and sent back the remains with a
big blue hieroglyphic on the title page.

sheets, and sent back the remains with a
big blue hieroglyphic on the title page
That was the last straw.
began to see plainly that that con-
founded Old Fiddler was eating his head
off in postage and not doing me any
good. had been very certain, when I
buried him with the entire population of
his village standing up to their necks in
snow, that he would go for good price,
With the money thus obtained intended
to publish novel. and become as famous
as Rudyard Kipling. But he didn't go
for anything, and SO the world lost an
other great novelist without knowing
anything about it. Such things happen,
sometimes. When the Old Fiddler came
back for the last time he was laid away in
box with pair of old rubbers, a box of
backing and a toothbrush that had taken
notion to shed its hair on my whiskers
when / used it, and gave up for while
the idea that [ was a born writer, and
emigrated to another part of the State.
Several months elapsed before thought
of the Old Fiddler again. But one day,
as I sat by my fire, lighting my pipe with
coal and thinking, / heard the most
awful, squeaking OF a fiddle in house
across the street. 1t was the worst at
tempt at a hornpipe l ever heard in all
my life. 1 arose hastily and was about to
close the door, when / heard resound-
ing whack, the fiddling stopped with a
screech, and woman's voice, full of ten
derness, said:
80, Jack! Did I hurt you? didn't
mean to strike so hard.''
mo, OF course not ~ roared deep bass
voice. ''of course not, But you've
! busted my fiddle, Just the same. What
in thunder do you mean, anyhow? Can't
you let q man lave a little music?''
20, Jack ! I'm real sorry! But you
know that horrible sereeching drives me
wild -
Horrible screechingr' roared Hack.
"T01935ie ScrcecRtag. Great Scott, Mary,
you are positively msulting What do
you call horrible screeching? p"
Now, Jack, dear" said Mary, "you
know you can't play little bit, and you
know how il tortares me when you try.
Why dou't you quit? DO you think you
viii ever become good iiddler?"
DO II" he repeated. Yes, do. And
! intend 10 keep on trying until l do.
| There's just lots of money could earn
fiddling if was Il good fiddler. I'm tired
OF working in the niiaes.''
There was nothing more said then, and
/ resumed my seat by the fire. But the
O.d Fiddler had got into my mind again
The Old Fiddler was drawn from life. I
had penned him just as he WAS; only he
hdc not YET died iii reality. Finally said
10 myself:
Here is young fellow who would
like - be IA fiddler and quit mining. lie
wants 10 fiddle for a living. II he quits
mining and goes TO tiddling, he'll become
another Old Fiddler. lie must be saved.
Ee shat lie saved
! ascertained that young mans name.
Then J ralled the Old Fiddler oct of the
! box, wrapped him UP carefully, adj
dressed him TO that young man and
chucked him into the postoilice
That evening | sa@ Jack bring him
home. Through the open window I saw
them pori1g over the manuscript to-
gether. Several times l saw Mary wipe
her eyes and Kiss Jack, but Jack look cd
s,ern and angry. The Old Fiddler was
working on his soul.
/ That night. when everything was quiet.
! saw Jack steal out with his fiddle under
/ his arm. He crept along the fence until
he came to an Old well. There was faint,
twanging sound for a moment. Then
Jack stole back TO the house again.
There has been no more horrible
/ scrceching in that house. Jack is work
/ ing steadily in the mines, and his wife is
+ happy as bird.
The mission of the Old Fiddler was not
IN vain. a. V. HOFFMAN.