Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1897-07-10

full contralto died away, and the solo
tst had to bow her acknowledgment re-
peatedly; then there came pause,
which to Hartzell seemed to last for
hours. At length the orchestra played
the introduction to his number, and he
started to his feet cOnvulsively and step
ped out into the glare of the footlights.
The audience saw an understood, gray
haired man, whose clean shaven face
was almost childish in expression as he
stood there, nervously waiting. Hart
zell saw shimmering, changing blur,
from which half indistinguishable
forms started out for moment, and
then faded away like phantoms in
cleaning mist, only to reappear again
in different shape. A noise like the
shouting of an angry mob sounded in
his ears, and he reeled and took a step
backward, raising his hand to his fore
head involuntarily. At last he caught
the eye of the conductor, who nodded
encouragement, and he raised his violin
mechanically and made ready to play.
The smoothly flowing accompaniment
began, but Hartzell stood at first mo-
tionless, his heart held in the grasp of
deathlike fear. He could recall no
note of the air which he knew so we'll.
His memory, confused by fright, was at
standstill and would not respond to
his desperate entreaty. Like one i'll
trance, he saw the conductor give the
signal which was fatal to him and his
hopes The accompaniment stopped alb
ruptly, and he felt the wondering hush
which came over the great audience.
In his disappointment and hopeless
ness he could have cried aloud. This
was the moment for which he had wait
ed so many cruel, long years. This was
his triumph! The tears crept down his
withered cheeks and his lips moved
TREMENDOUSLY. He made no attempt to
leave the stage, but stood with bowed
head, while the hopes and dreams of
his wasted life passed in review before
him and crumbled away in the light of
the consciousness that he had been
found wanting.
But all this while, unbeknown to
himself, he had been drawing the bow
across the strings instinctively, unheed
ingly, in unwitting disregard of his
surroundings The accustomed, caress-
ing touch of the violin seemed to an
swer his vague longing for expression.
After awhile he noticed dimly that
the members of the orchestra were bend
ing toward him with curious intentness,
and that there was breathless stiffness
throughout the house. He did not know
or care what was the reason, for he
was lost in the distant land of memory,
draping the brightness of every recol-
lection with the black of present hope
lessness; marking the vainness of every
hope and the futility of every sacrifice.
The thoughts which We're flashing
through his mind found an added bitter
ness III the consciousness that all might
have been so different if his courage
had not failed him; if he could have
shown to the world what he knew to be
his real power: Was there yet time? If
he could only have another trial-one
little opportunity-perhaps ne could re-
deem this mistake. He was sure that he
could. Was it too late-altogethe too
late? Might not
He came to himself with a start and
1oOhSu IllIl Iuultly
asking forgiveness and sympathy from
some unknown source, then half stum-
bling turned to leave the stage.
A murmur followed him, fast grow
ing into roar. The house seemed to
tremble and rock again and again in
hurricane of cheering. He heard his
name called by many voices and faced
about in utter bewilderment, his veins
tingling strangely. He saw wildly
tossing sea of faces. The audience had
risen to its feet and was crying out to
him-to him! The orchestra, too, was
applauding madly, forgetful of disci-
pline, and the conductor was smiling at
him with shining eyes. What did it all
mean? For moment he stood dazed
and uncomprehending then suddenly
he knew the truth. Unconsciously he
had been playing the thoughts which
were i'll his mind and the sobbing, vi
brating notes of the violin had told his
story to every human heart in the vast
theater.-Leland Ingersoll in LOCKER