The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1895-11-02
RUBY REDCLIFF,
Bora
In " o., In in lsSL
Died
Unwcpt save By oae
Friend.
sept. /, 1898

Natusally was impressed by the
newly made grave and the strange in
seription. "Uuwcpt save by one
friend" was pathetic, indeed. Cross
ing the fence. mashed down the grass
and sage cliuging about the base OF the
stone, in the hope OF finding further IN
Formations. But the search was in vain
those were the only words, and was
left to speculation. Had parent been
passing that way, victim Of poverty
or an exile from scenes of former pros
perty, and had the child fallen sick and
died? Had she been abducted by one
who loved her and yet had no right 10
her possession, and while being hurried
through that region her footsteps, like
Dickens Little Ncll's, had died ont
forever?
\ tramp is not necessarily heartless
he may carry hidden in his bosom
pictures and memories that are tender
and forceful enough to keep his steps
from wandering into hell. 1t is not to
be wondered at that rs j tarried there
beside the grave my thoughts went
wandering to other days when had q
home and little ones, when youth and
hope were buoyant, and l, too, could say
of the world:
'Robed IN universal harvest, up TO either pole,
she smiles,
Universal ocean softly washing all her warless
isles"
But that was long ago, and enough of
it! Almost forgetting the world in the
bitterness which succeeded my first
recollections, did not notice the length
of time l was tarrying there. l know
that L was soon surrounded by dark
ness, and, strangely enough, while not
ing everything around me, felt that
1 was yet under some sort of "a spell.
While could look on the stars peering
like SO many eyes from heaven and
think and feel the chills pass down my
back as an owl passed over me, snap
ping it's beak as it winged onward,
was arrested and kept from moving by
the sweetest strains of music had ever
heard, coming from no particular di-
rection, it appeared, but falling around
and on me like slumber; as sweet were
they as notes from some divine instru-
ment, soft as 1 have imagined the
voices of saints who lean over the walls
calling souls to glory.
am not superstitious, think-was
it not Bulwer who indirectly said that
fortunate men are the superstitious?-
but the music seemed supernatural, and
as the sounds became more distinct be-
cause nearing or because more force
was thrown in the rendition, was GER
tain that they proceeded from violin
undoubtedly under the deft touch OF
a masterhand. The air became quite
distinguishable after awhile-it was
Paganinis Carnival of Venice"
Peering into the darkness, thought
! could see the shadowy and indistinct
outline of man. Was / not dreaming
The white face with It's strangely
luminous eyes beckoned me on, while
the fingers performed their duty on the
violin; and involuntarily followed the
figure as 1t slowly receded like n shadow
before the dawn, straining every nerve
to lose none of the air. My soul, too
went out with the music--traveled on
and on until in imagination became
denizen of the old world following
the enraptured Nicolo Paganini through
its cities and becoming his worshipei
rs he entertained houses in Vienna
Paris, Parma and Milan, drinking In
his melodies as il I in reality lived more
than half century ago.
Presently the music ceased, and tho
phantom figure, STOPPING, slowly ex
tended forward pale hand, as small as
awoman's, and placed In mine letter