The record-union., 1894-06-23
Loretta, racklie! oh, Lorettap'
/ l,

Loretta, racklie! oh, Loretta!"
II.
You could not have said whether Pro-
feSsor Poppett was old or young. Other
performers in the theater orchestra where
he literally played second fiddle" had
long despaired OF conclusion whether he
should be despised or revered. Whatever
came, no complaint ever escaped the lips
OF Professor POppett. He had never
been known to live anywhere. The di-
rectory was silent as TO his lodgings. No
human outside of the theater had been
seen with him. The most curious had
found no key to his nature.
He seemed to have but the one object in
life of existing in an atmosphere of music.
Study him as they might his fellows dis
covered only this: Sometimes in tender
passages OF the play, or when, in opera,
pathos or passion spoke from the speech
less instruments, a tear might be seen
coursing down beneath his glasses. But
this was quickly brushed away with the
end of his bow. no note being lost, for he
was too conscientious for that.
just this, and strange, yearning look
in his face when his dog, Nose, from un-
der his chair, tugged at the frayed ends of
his trousers, and, looking up in his mas
ter's eyes, expressed mute joy in the
melodies. were all that were seen and
known OF his inner life.
But Nose, the dog, more than human
in this, always understood the Profess
sor.
1t had even been limited that they were
both tramps. But, all told. the two lived
only for and with each other, and they
were not an unhappy couple.
Professor Poppett was an interpreter of
music. Nose had soul for music. Each,
IN his way, worshiped. Perhaps this is
what held them SO closely together.
By and by the curtain rang down for
the last time upon the Grand Star Com
bination Theater. Then the Professor
and Nose knew the misery of beggary in
great city. At last there was nothing
behind, there seemed nothing beyond, so
they took to the road together.
Professor Poppett'S voice was melan-
choly at best. The Old violin was tuned
to more and more mournful cadences
By pleasant Maine farm houses, at the
sooty doors of musical crossroads smith
les, near groups of sturdy plowman,
drawn from the fields to the roadside, III
brisk and pretty hamlets, at busy stage
stations. the Professor sang and played
while helpful Nose bravely presented
the ragged hat. But there had grown to
be that halting in Poppett's manner, that
trembling hesitancy III his singing, and.
more than all, that lessening faith in
himself, which so voiced in ballad and
instrument, that, though all grlnningly
listened, only few rewarded.
one autumn evening, penniless, sup
PEERLESS. hopeless, the two had been
hooted out of a lovely, leafy Maine Will
age, a few miles to the north of old Port
land by the sea. Reaching forest edge.
we'll beyond pursuit, poor, simple Pop
petit fell among the leaves exhausted and
Sfr2io htWaV hurst into tndrS
Faithful Nose, true and helpful to the
last, crept up beside him, pushed his
face against mis- masters, kissed it in his
dog fashion and whined comfort
ingly. After little time the Professor
petted the brute tenderly, but could only
say; ,,o, w. ..,, -,
dogl We're in hard, hard luck. eh,
Mose?"
Nose could not deny it.
Suddenly Nose bristled up, listened a
moment, and then snapped out a quick
sharp growl OF alarm.
The Professor quieted him, looked
timorously away through the night 10 the
iar lights OF the distant town, anu, with a
bitter sigh of encouragement said to his
loyal companion:
God only knows where to, Nose, but
come aloug!"
Nose seemed to insist that somebody.
or something requiring looking into, was
near them: but they crossed near little
stream, followed an unused road uD a
hill, and were presently confronted by
an old rail gate standing half Open
Here Poppett looked III vain for some
Sign OF human habitation beyond, but
could deScry only the dark face of deep
woods, and. above them, the yellow horn
of an autumn moon.
n a sank drSarilV uDOn a falInn lOp bo-
side the gate, succeeding only in bringing
Nose 10 his side by sharp word of COM
mand (he seldom spoke to the dog in
this way and then leaned against the fence
giving himself up TO the direst forebod-
ings. which were quickly succeeded by
the stupor OF utter exhaustion.
Was he dreaming?
There came TO MIN in reality, or dream.
tie voice OF maiden in song:
Lays will pass with long hours dreary;
Nights all sieepless, starless grow
The old violin fairly flew to the Pro-
fessor's shoulder. The bow, poised aloft.
trembled in his hand. His head reached
far out and sidewise, as ii his whole be-
ing thrilled in anticipation, while the
dogs tail beat a lively tattoo upon the
log
And thy Nawken lover, dearie,
Al! the pain of waiting know;
Waiting, longing with their woe.
On, how that old violin kept taccompani-
ment! The violin led rather than fol-
lowed. The last line was given by the
singer in a weird, sad minor. When its
final note was hushed the songstress,
who was certainly nearing the musician,
seemed to listen and wait, as if to tease
and test the performer.