St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1895-02-03
STORIES i:Y CORBETT.
Yarns Told by the Worlds Cham
pioa Pugil!sf.

Yarns Told by the Worlds Cham
pioa Pugii!sf.
~ sat in theater in Cork. Ireland,
one night less than year ago and wit
messed one of the most peculiar and in
tercsting dramas | ever saw anywhere"
said Champion Corbett during a little
supper we attended together the other
night. The piece was called The
Broken Melody and was sufficiently
pathetic to draw tears, even from
my eyes. l can hardly remember
the plot, but 1 can give you an
idea of the play as | saw it.
"it appears that there was poor
noble-hearted musician who played ex-
ouisitely on the 'ceilo. He was blessed
with a pretty little wife to whom he
was devotedly attached. She loved the
poor fellow. but his means were limited,
and more often than not they had moth
ing to eat in the house. The musician,
playing dreamily on his loved instru-
ment one day, conceived an opera
through which ran plaintiVe bit Of
melody that was most weird and en-
trancing. Glowing with enthusiasm. he
went to work and finished the opera.
He offered it to numerous managers.
They could see no merit in ii. All re-
fused it. His wife grew Respondent,
and thought peculiar as it seemed
that if she were away from herhusband
perhaps he would experience less diff
Guilty in making his way through life.
"One afternoon, While he was out
looking for a purchaser for his opera,
she departed, leaving a farewell note
for him on the table. SGoI he returned
all radiance and happiness. He had
sold his opera for a splendid sum, and
looked every where for his little wife to
tell her the joyful news. lie could find
her nowhere. ne called to her, but
there was no reply. Thinking that
she would come in presently, lie seized
his cello and began playing softly to
himself the music of the opera. He
played the weird little bit slowly and
dreamily. seeming to liDger fondly and
lovingly over his instrument as it re-
sDonded to his skillful touch. He had
gone half through it when his eye
caught sight OF the note on the table.
Possibly he OWNED what it was for the
music died out discordantly. The bow
fell from his hands. He nervouslv
picked up the note and read it, then
fell unconscious 10 the floor. His acting
was most exquisite, and the close Of the
act was touching i'll the extreme.
Years rolled on, and the musician,
grown to prominence and wealth, still
mourneJ the loss Of his sweetheart and
wife. lie became gloomy and silent.
The music of his opera had never come
from his cello since that Hateful day.
One night at large social gathering he
was solicited to play the bars of his
opera, which he had not heard himself
since the night lie read that rear-stained
note Of farewell. After much persua-
sion he finally consented. He picked
up mis- cello. and as he began to draw
the bow slowly over the strings he be-
came lost to his surroundings. The same
melody that he had played that day
came forth. and gradually the full.
rounded notes fell Oh the listening and
fascinated ears of his audience. He
had progressed half way through the
piece when the sweet face OF woman
appeared in the great doorway, and,
with head inclined forward in listening
attitude, she stood as if under the spell
of the sweet strains. 1t was the must
ciaD's wife. He played on dreamily,
and, led OH by the weird notes, the wife
gradually reached her husbands side.
With a glad cry she threw her
arms about his neck, and the melody
was again abruptly broken off. The
finale was wonderfully pathetic. was
worked up to such pitch when the
wife moved so silently down the large
hall that could scarcely retain my
seat. L cried like baby. The idea
was odd. 1t called for ali the sympathy
there is in the human mind and the JOY
full meeting Of husband and wife was
witnessed through the fast falling tears
of the audience. The plaintive, weird
snatch Of melody was never completed
during any part of the play. hence the
title The Broken Melody"
Jim told the story with so much ear
nestness and feeling and pictured the