The DeLamar nugget. [volume] (DeLamar, Idaho) 1891-1900, 1892-01-25

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elm bed up that flight of stairs and
touched the electric button. Instantly
the playing ceased. Slow, heavy steps,
as of one tired out, came, and the door
was opened was invited in.
! ''When had sat down in his dining
room I hurriedly took an inventory.
There was but the lighted piano lamp,
and that shed rather dim and uncer-
! tain light over the rest of the room,
| But / noticed all sorts of "reminiscences
of his dead wife There were pretty
embroidered tides on the sofa and
chairs; there were several tiny paint
ings-quite evidently the work of
female amateur; and there was por-
trait of the deceased herself, draped in
Grape, and in one corner of the frame
stuck faded dried bunch of flowers.
The picture showed pretty young face,
whose dark eyes seemed to look upon
me with gentle, reproachful gaze.
began to feel load settling down on
me and the heart within me grew
heavy. I felt worse than an intruder
felt like ruthless foe in this mourn
full home Of happiness that had been.
Just then my neighbours voice struck
my ear:
What can do for you?'
Mechanically, following but the i'm
pulse that had brought me up there, l
told him of my trials and tribulations,
due to his incessant piano playing in
the evening.
when l had ended the man looked
at me with the expression of a hunted
dog whose last refuge is about to be
taken from him. He nodded his head.
Yes, yes he said, with voice that
seemed full of unwept tears. i might
have known it Somebody was sure to
object And as 1 hastily interposed
some remarks intended to make my in
trusion less painful to him, this neigh
Dor of mine with the sad mien slowly
turned his face to the light so that l
could study the features furrowed by
sorrow, notice the hair on the temples
and how it began to wax thin and gray
despite his tnirty-fve years.
s''You are quite right he muir
INJURED. 4 know what good playing
means, for my wife-she played well
and I've often enough listened to her
to know Not that she was a per-
feet performer. She generally only
played simple tunes, those that speak
to and touch the heart. But she played
them so we'll and with so much feeling.
q saw tear in the mans eye.) But
what am l to do? You see, 1 am at the
bank all day long. (He is cashier in
it, When my work is over l go home.
Often have L meant to go to the thea
ter or some concert, or to an en-
tertainment at the house of friend.
But I cannot 1t is impossible. These
rooms, the scene of our brief happiness, |
draw me as with hooks of steel l can
not resist. And what should l do else
where? The thought of my poor wife
follows me everywhere And here / |
see her. l feel her presence. And that |
consoles me for her loss. That, too, has |
driven me to the piano-her piano. l |
know next to nothing of music, it is
true. But when | sat down on her |
stool for the first time and looked |
through her sheets of music the ire
sistible desire came over me TO try and
play her favorite pieces = those she
played SO well and which recall her
most wildly to me-and I've done it.
play them 1 learned how without a
teacher-insensibly by degrees, just
trusting to my poor knowledge of the
notes and to my memory. suppose-in
fact [ l1now-it must sound horrible to
especially neighbors, this play
ing of mine But it is such happiness
to me- 1 see her again, gracefully
over the piano and nodding to
me, giving me one of her sweet glances.
And that IS why l am playing at this
piano during my leisure hours in the
evening"
''There was silence in that room.
Then 1 rose, shook the hand of the
man whom l had, an hour ago, wished
in hades, and stole away. And now
that is the queerest thing of all his
playing no longer disturbs me at my
work. In fact, it inspires me. L sup
pose part Of the fancies that come
over him are shared by me, and l shall
never disturb him again. "
WELL" said Simpson, who had
suspicious moisture in his left, his
weak, eye, ''that shows that even the
piano is good for something. Let's 60"
Chicago Herald.