The Mena weekly star., 1897-01-20
AN lMPRoMPTu FlpplgR
un and Frolic on St. Patrick's Dav in a
 "ashout on Western Railroad.

Deeh caught between two serious wash outs, one at Pocatello and the other at inalan Creek, three days before, and haa to wait at Glenn's Ferry for re- pairs along the line before they could proceed. Glenn's Ferry is a bleak lit- tle railroad and sheepherders' town of Soo or 400 inhabitants, situated on sagebrush bluff overlooking the un- speakably dark and dreary Snake river.
 The live stalled trains carried about oOo passengers of as miscellaneous A character as could be gotten together at carefully selected congress of types. There were emigrants and mil llonaires; soldiers on the move; dainty women Tn palace cars and women bound for Crcede and Cripple Creek in day coaches; miners who killed time during the wait in shooting magpies clrcling over the Snake river; Shoshone Indians travelling to the limits of their reservation; well-behaved and quiet people, noisy and tumultuous people. But all were stuck alike and they made the best of it.
 Lines of social demarcation were for the time erased. All hands mingled cas- fly on the little station platform and in the little station waiting room. The supply of food on the dining cars gave out the first day of the hitch, and every body was fed, and well fed, too, in the station eating room. They sat down at the tables in relays, and patiently awaited their turns.
 The railroad employees and their wives were to give a dance at the little town hall on St. Patrick's night. The switchman who had been customarilv employed to fiddle for them had been switched to another division. In a quandary, the dance committee toured the trains and station to ascertain if any of the stalled passengers happened to be carrying a violin and was capable of producing music on it. In one of the sleeping cars they came across an artistic-looking man, with very long hair, seraphic, oleaginous counte- nance, and exceedingly baggy clothes. They were looking for fiddler, they said. Did he know of anyone on the train? We'll, he didn't know Gin out rageously bad English); he played a little himself once in awhile, and had rather q fair fiddle with him. The long-haired man accented the fiddle" rather curiously. But the railroad men were overjoyed. Would he play for them to dance with their wives and sweethearts? Certainly! Did he know dance music? Well, some.
 All of the stalled passengers were invited to the dance, and they all went. A good many of them could not get in. The baggily clothed fiddler turned up in good time. The pianist was watt ing for him. So was the railroad dance committee, one of the members of which slipped three dollars in one-dollar bills into the fiddler's hand as pay ment in advance for the evenings work. It was smilingly accepted. The dance began. The fireman's wife, who played the piano, produced an old bethumbed violin and piano tune book. and turned to the lancers. She told the fiddler at the end of the first dance, that be did pretty well, only he went too fast. Then there was a waltz. The fiddler was informed by his accompanist that he was getting along finely, and every body in the room began to prick up his ears at the sweetness of the violin music, although the dances were com mon enough and tawdry enough.
 Another waltz-the Beautiful Blue Danube" All of the dancers on the floor stopped dead at the first bar, and the travellers with cultivated musical cars moved close to the piano. The pianist ceased. She wanted 10 listen. The violin music was miraculous. The player swayed from side to side as he phrased. He appeared to be oblivious of his surroundings. He improvised variations of inspiring tenderness. He out-Straussed Strauss. His violin sang, throbbed with passion. When the last note died away the people in the hall appeared to be in dream. All but one.
 "M. Ysaye," said Charley Fair, the son of the late United States Senator Fair, stepping from the throng, wont you play that lively, rattling thing you gave us at the Bohemian club in San Francisco the other night? It's been running in my head ever since"
 M. Ysaye played Berlioz' "Pizzicato" as he never played it before Wash ington Star.