The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1894-11-24

Festivals he used to enjoy when he
was boy at home How he used to
look at the pretty girlsl He recol-
lected, in amused scorn of those
boyish days, not realizing that he
was gazing all this time at Miss Mar
celtic Adams, and that it was her
dainty charm which was waking in
him the old feelings.
The festival was to close with a
two part programme,-Stabat Mater
the first, and the second half miscel
laneous,-but giving chief place to
the New York Quintette of stringed
instruments. AS the flower of their
music, the club had with it this sum-
mer youthful violinist, delicate
boy, who should have been breathing
the pure air of Milton instead of fac
ing hot foot-lights this warm Septem-
Der night. A boarder who arrived
the evening before had told Marco
lite Adams that the boy had lain on
lounge in the Pullman all the pre-
ceding day on the way to Milton, and
was not fit to play.
By this time Miss Adams had be-
come wholly engrossed in the festival;
and she made pretty picture this
last night, handing smelling salts to
the spinster who felt faint when
the conductor scowled, producing for
the babe-in arms a rag doll which
would not make a noise when it fell
to the floor, and loaning her own
large-type edition of the Stabat Mater
to Father Hazen, who sat among the
bassos behind her. His eyes were dim
mer now, and mist Of tears blinded
them when the boy violinist rose,
and memories of Robert awoke. He
knew that at home his wife sat with
the unreconciled feeling she always
had when concert brought back the
contention about Boy.
Thus it was that, when the young
virtuoso appeared and played long
solo with ever-increasing fire and
skill, three people we're watching him
with suspended breath, Father Ha
zen, Narcotic Adams, and DR.. White,
whose professional eye saw that the
lad was playing not with bow, but
with quivering nerve. The audience
demanded an encore. Bows and
smiles from the poor boy were clspped
down; and he sweetly took his fixed
position again to play the lullaby
that should always follow polonaise.
But his strength was overtaxed,-
not his violin string broke, but his
endurance; and in the middle of
long, thrushlike note he fell heavily
to the floor.
The leader Of the orchestra, who
loved him dearly, and let him play
because both he and the boy were in
fatuated with music, and there was
no woman at hand to caution against
OVERRIDING, = the leader was not
quicker at the boys side than were
the three who had been fearing the
event. You can see what ensued.
Father Hazen, with face that made
all obey, asked that the boy might
be taken across the track, away from
the noisy hotel, to his own home.
DIR. White restored and supported the
lad till he was in the cool bed of Mrs.
Hazen's chamber; and Miss Adams
followed quietly, to help the elder
lady and to smooth a hundred little
obstacles away. And then-do you
foresee what came to pass? The
violinist's faint was the beginning of
long run of slow fever; and Marcel
tie Adams fingered long after the
other boarders fitted. to amuse the
invalid, and to drink refreshing
draughts of the simple, sincere life in
the Hazen household. at was one of
Narcotics whims, her Boston
friends said, being used to her self
indulgences, but DR.. White saw that
it was one of her inspirations. The
violinist was the dearest convalescent,
tender soul to be always taken care
of; and for his winters playing the
Adamses were soon enlisted as pat
rons, and for his summer rest the
Hazens claimed him as their own.
1t was bitter sweet day when he
asked for his violin. Marcelite
brought it, ignorant of the chords it
would set jarring. Mrs. Hazen rose
to leave the room; but the player
said so lovingly, "Mother Hazen, stay
and rest on my lounge, AM let me
play you lullaby: you must be so
tired with taking care of meP' that
she remained, looking out the win
dow, shading her eyes with her hand;
a d Father Hazen, who came in from
the garden softly, went and tucked
cushion to rest her bent shoulders,
and laid in her lap the cluster of i'm