The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1895-04-13

you q just sing something tnat mas
some chune to it, that 'ud be different.
The noise of the drinking and play.
ing began again, and Henderson saw
that he was losing the advantage he
had gained. In a moment he raised
his ponderous voice once more and be-
gan:
will sing you a song OF that beautiful land,
The faraway home OF the soul.
Where no storms ever beat on that glitteYins
strand,
| While the years Of eternity roll.
Again at the first note all eyes were
turned toward him and all games were
suspended. BY the time he had reached
THAT Interchangeable home is for you
and for me-" many of the cards had
been laid face downward on the table.
The attention was breathless. By the
time he had reached ''Oh, how sweet it
will be, in that beautiful land, to meet
one another again. many of the play
ers were in tears. AS the song con.
c1uded with the repetition: 'To meet
one another again." one old wooden
legged fellow in the corner broke into
a perfect storm of sobbing. He had
heard Henderson as he sang, but prob
ably he had also heard in fancy the
voice of mother, as she had sung the
same song for him in his infancy.
Here, pardner." shouted some one,
''you sung something that time. Here's
q flyer for YOU"
and over fifty dollars was taken into it.
Thanks, gentlemen" said Hender.
son. There's to be funeral and
burying out at the graveyard at 4
o'clock tomorrow evening. l wish
you'd all come"
''Will you sing that same song for
us again?" shouted some one.
Certainly, if you wish it,
"Then, you bet there'll be a crowd
out"
The next morning Henderson, look
ing rather pale, walked into the bar
room and asked credit for pint OF
whisky.
Credit! Great guns! What went
with all that cash you took in last
night?'
"You didn't think was begging for
myself. did you? That went to pay for
the little girls coffin and funeral
things
"Well, will!- The barkeeper stared
at him moment in amazement.
mo, KANT credit you no more; but
I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give you
five dollars and all the whisky you can
drink to-day If you'll promise never to
sing that darned song nor nothing else
like it within earshot of my place here
no more"
"Why don't you want me to sing
here?"
"Why don't 1? That's fine question
fcy you to ask. You nearly busted up
the whole outfit last night. A man
can't sell whisky to do no good when
such singin' as that is goin' on. The
fellers played out the game they was
on last night, and then they mostly
pulled for home. One darned fool got
SO tore up that he laid his cards down
face up. What do you think about
that, now? Ib'leeve If you was to sing
once day for month, the whole dog
goned town would vote prohibition"
That evening an immense crowd at
tended the burying, but it did not
have the pleasure of hearing Hender-
son sing. He was not there at the
time; he was in the back room of the
saloon, dead drunk.
Henderson must have had high ideas
as to the dignity of his art, for he
could never be prevailed on TO use 1t
for his own pecuniary advantages. He
money to settle his board bill, but he
resolutely refused to do so. Accord.
ingly, no one blamed Mr.. Bilbo when
his patience gave out, and he finally
attached Henderson's trunk and books,
and had them sold to satisfy his board
bill. One might be lenient with a good
man in distress, but with drunken
scamp, who could pay if he would, the
case is different. Accordingly, the
goods were sold, as has been described.
He left Belcherville before the day
of the sale. Nobody ever heard of him
again until one day when it was
learned that he was living at Pinhook.
little hamlet off the railroad, some
forty miles west of here. How he man
aged to live there / do not know; no
body seems to know, except that he
hung around the saloon at that place q
great deal. Nobody in Pinhook ever
heard him sing until the night of the
18th of last February. 1t was the worst
blizzard of the winter. That evening
he had got a little drunken than usual
and had been elected from the saloon
with the command never to return
That night, as the players sat in the
well-warmed barroom and listened te
the storm rage outside, they heard
powerful bass voice borne down on the
night wind in song. Again, from the
few words that the hearers could dis
tinguish, think it must have been: 80
show you a mystery; we shall not al
sleep, but we shall all be changed"
''Confound!' CALCULATED one of the
players, emphatically. THAT fellow'r
got fine voice. It's pity he amt gol