The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1895-07-22
! PIPER TIM

bulb Nocb WOftu tbt WIoh hu ANVkn Ako AA89
like bird, ere the heritage OF the sons Of
toll has dimmed them9 So Tins eyes
looked that winter night. He opened the
door Of the smithy where the members OF
the village orchestra sat al practice round
the blazing forge. Every man paused, in.
strument in hand, at the sound Of the
fearless, shrill young voice.
Then, smiling, Tim shut out the drift
ing snowfakos and stepped into the
room. The small feet were shoeless and
dark as the earthen floor on which he
stood. The clothes he wore hung round
his slim form In grotesque tatters. But
above the tatters rose face such as God
sends into a dark world now and then.
Noble were the features; the sweep Of the
blue eyes was clear and grand; the curve
Of the lips was proud yet sweet. From the
beautiful brow waved hair, tawny and sun
kissed, on which the glistening snow
shone like stars. The men had scarcely
time to look at the child when raising his
pipe to his lips, he began to play. The
wonderful eyes shone; the slim, brown
fingers obeyed the impulse Of the grand
soul imprisoned In tiny Tim. Strong men
laid aside their instruments and ciasped
horny hands to listen. Here and there
face Swallowed; now and then a tear was
furtively wiped away.
Tim smiled as he took the pipe from his
lips, and his eyes turned wistfnlly to the
blazing fro. They made way for him;
they entertained him as II he had been of
royal estate. A small, three legged stool
was his throne, and he sat there, pipe
clasped close, as happy as king He told
them whence he came, as far as he knew.
"Over the hills" he said, far, far over
the hills" They called him Piper Tim in
the caravan, never another name. He had
always piped.
Then he laughed and stretched his thin
brown hands with joy to the blaze. He
could tell nothing more; he belonged to
the tinker band" and the sound Of mu-
sic had drawn him SO that he fingered to
listen while the caravan went on its way
tower the hills"
The smiths wife admired the childs
lovely face; his tatters brought tears to
her eyes; womanlike, she gave him to eat
and to drink. Then they sat once more
amazed while he played on his pipe ere,
with laughing farewell, he went off into
the darkness. That night the smith sat
long dreaming by the red logs In his forge.
He sighed as he turned in at the cottage
door, where his wife awaited him by the
fire.
GLOW would 1t ha' BEEN he said, "gin
we'd kept that little chap, the piper2 Our
BARN would Just ha' been ABBOTT his age
gin the Lord had spared him."
There was motto Of anxious query In his
tone. But the starved mothers heart in
the woman cried out:
Ell, but I've been sittin here seein tho
bonny face O. the BARN in the freight. I
thought O. him out there in the darkness
an the shaw wi the thinkers folk. God
mn eyttla hin, n tuir
sooner Keep himl Would I ro', wi you
bonny face, you blithe e'enf'
When he comes back again, " the smith
said as no drew his chair to the hearth,
and his wife with glad smile echoed his
words.
The sohoolmaster placed his old violin
tenderly In Its corner that night. He
smiled little bitterly as he thought Of his
gray hairs and his many years Of plodding,
then Of Piper Tim.
"He plays as a bird sings" he thought
really "his heart Is full of music" Then
he trimmed his lamp and sat down to his
books
But the boys face smiled from every
page the free, fearless voice was In his
ears the blue, pure eyes shone In the
cracking flames. The sohoolmaster flung
aside his book and was back In the old
days, when the hills, and the stars, and
tho sunshine had been his book, a maid
ems eyes his heaven and the world world
of wonders. He looked at the empty chair
of his dead wife, and he thought of sons
and daughters far away.
"1f had kept the lad" he unused
aloud, ~ could have made man of him,
have saved him from the thinkers life He
would have filled my empty home"
Long he dreamed, then smile of reso.
luton curved his lips.
when he comes again." he said.
And Piper Tim?
He went on his way that night, turning
again and again to look at the long, bright
CLEANS that fell on the snow from the great
forest fire. He knew his people were camp
ing In tho mountains and to the noun
tains and the darkness he turned his face.
There was singing in his heart, there was
always singing there, SO he went on his
way merrily. Up, up, through the blind
ing snow, neither cold nor weary for the
singing In that heart of his he watched
always for the CLEAN of the red campfire.
But he behold never a spark.
The stars shone out serenely Tim
raised his face to them. They smiled into
their twin stars, his eyes. Yet still was
there no campfire.
Tim, growing sore sat down In the
sheltered Granny or rock. He raised his
pipe to his lips. He played tune that be.
gan braTely and ended softly, and mora
softly still. Tim was asleep. The snow
flakes fell like bristling stars; the dawn
smiled over the hills, but Tim piped never
again.
Little rocked the tinker band that one
child less crouohed to tho fire, one brown
hand less stretched to the steaming pot.
When the musicians meet In the smithy on
winter nights, and the wind shakes weird
melodies from trees and mountains, the
men look at each other, and sometimes a
light breaks over rugged faces. Sounds
like tune from Piper Tim,'' say they.
Occasionally strange presence seems to
fill tho place. The smith and the school
master raise eager faces, words tremble on
their lips, but-ahl tho fancies that are
ever aslumber In dreamersi hearts have
been stirred by the winds song and the
shadow of the dancing fames.-Black and
White.