The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1893-01-08

10.
God bless me, wife, cawnt ys som'ow, ye
know, entice the beast awayi I've been
very cool - ah, Darby, there's
desrl - but, pom me word
I'm fast sxhausting. Wife, wom-
an!-Show Darby the creamsl 'Eav'n
clip me, but this Is a go, thought Ave a
cream. Darby; dol There's dear. though.
thought
They really had done il. Darby had
been shown some French creams Of which
she was very foud, and evidently preferred
them to her masters nose. The pursy gent
seemed ut for an appolectio stroke on 40
count OF that organ, which had suffered no
more than a good pinch; but the lady's
moaninRs at the possibility Of Darby's ner-
vous system having received too severe a
shock, we're something piteous indeed.
As we alighted at Kinks Cross station. az
ter Milford, milady and DARBY" had been
tenderly bestowed in a handsome brougham,
iu transpired that the man and wife's five
children. two maids and the other miscel-
laneous luggage, all OF whom and which
had shared third class compartment with
as many uncouth Yorkshire yokels, were
left behind to reach home as best they could
by way OF raging London "thripenny"
bus
There is quaint little inn Of Edinburgh,
hard by St. Andrews square, in which |
love TO make my home in AUD
Reekie;" for while it is but q
few steps from the city's peerless Princess
street, it is still within the precincts Of a
fine old residence district, made famous by
the haunts of a score of the great literary
Scotchmen Of other days.
Much going and coming between this inn
and central city places brought to my
notice the fact that, nearly every pleasant
summer night when the hush of evening
had fallen upon the town, a marvellous
singer Of the tenderest ballads OF Scotland
came that way; stood for quarter of and
hour or so in the quiet entrance to st.
Andrews street; and at intervals to the
accompaniment of an accordion sang
sweetlv for those who tarrled.
A tchance glimpses of the singer and his
regular evening audience noticed, too, that
the man never solicited aims. He stood
quite still in the middle of the street and
now and then some one of the crowd, in the
pauses of his singing, would step quietly up
to him aud place a coin within his hand
These were copper coins always and they
nearly always came from the pockets OF
poor people Finally, the songs and the
scene touching my own heart, went and
placed coin in his hand, as others had done
before me.
Then for the first time / saw that the man
was blind. l saw, besides, such face as
will haunt me all my lifetime. l can not
tell you what painter has put most of hope
full pat ence, exalted resignation and sub
lime faith into any one face upon canvas
But here was face that Instantly revealed
them all. I went back to him. told him
| would like to know him; asked him IL /
could come to his home, or If he could and
is way to my lodgings; and in a moment
more we had arranged for a meeting at
the little st. Andrews street inn for the
morrow.
When he came his first words put us both
as warmly IN touch as though our hearts
had been open to each other for O lifetime.
II knew by your voice." he said sadly
you saw through my sightessness. An
we blind folk are mair canny at SEEM than
We think. You make rhymes. So do l."
This deprecatingly. ''God knows my heart
is salr slug WIZ pen, tool'
So I knew be had already sung "wi' bis
pen," and made him there and then re-
peat his rhymes. Here was another
Burns in rags and obscurity. Surely this
is so. Then / went with this blind poet and
singer, John Council, to his home, No. IL,
Gibbs entry second fat Nicholson street,
Edinburgh; away up among the dsnsely in
habited WINDS and closes OF old-town
What was therei Just so many children
one could scarcely count them or remember
their names: a Kindly-faced wife, loyal and
true; a he4rthside as barren of the comforts
of his life as the face of q storm beaten
crag; but with faith, hope and unfalteri0g
love enough within it to seed for saving an
entire race.
The story Of the man and his bitter
struggle Is a short one; because of his voca-
ton, his poverty, his silent suffering. lie
was q mechanic once, with boundless hopes
for education AID advancement; perhaps
with dreams of fame. The blindness came.
That the wife and BARNS might not starve
he must sing upon the street. Then pass
ing grand lady heard him sing. She sent
for him and gave him an audience. The old
hopes famed anew. To make her husband
presentable the soft-hearted wife gave all
their savings and pledged all their little be-
longings for clothing aud bran new &C
Gordon. 1.-THE puir body may find favor n
the fond wife prayed. He did-until he
told the grand lady proudly Of his good
wife and BARNS. Then she bid him good
day, and her servant wed him the door.
John Cornell has been singing for aims
now for more than four years for this mis-
hap that those dear to him may barely
live; to relieve himself from the wolf fangs
of the usurer; and TO retrieve himself from
the favor OF this grand Edinburgh lady.
Many silent, dreadful are the tragedies Of
this life from the heedlessness and the heart
lessness of the rich and great!
| added TO his little store OF BOOKS; helped
little in other ways from my own slender
purse but my heart aches and my eyes
mist In the longing for some good and pow
erful MANS there o such a Scotchman In
Scotland or Americs2-to place this
blind 81 ger where the songs OF his ten
der heart may be made known to all
men. Wherever my wanderings may lead
me, / cannot but hear his thrilling voice in
"Auld Reckless" pleasant thoroughfares or
see him in the little Gibbs Entry home cell
sitting in the silences of his sightless life,
his faithful wife reading over and over to
him the songs of other men or taking down
the lines that crowd upon his trembling
tongue;-a tranEcendent picture OF some
modern Prometheus bound.
When tramplng upon the grand Scottish
highways, and drawn from the road to the
fields by some vagarous fancy, a thrilling
sense of exutation comes in the accidental
discovery of some old Roman road. You
have perhaps Ieaped q wall and come upon
a ragged hollow. This can be clearly
traced, straight as an AFRO y for long dis
lance, There is a wonderous fascination In
this bramble covered swail. You pother
about for a little, and find it paved with
huge stones. More digging discloses solid
walls set beneath the uobish OF its sides.
The sea itself hardly broke the line OF this
stout old artery, along which once surged
the iron blood of Rome. Stern Agricola
rode at the head of his legions past the very
SPOT on which you are standing. Almost
ceaseess tides OF warriors swept over the
road TO lions Grampus. that 10000 slain
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