New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1897-12-19

lips Then, when the flute was packeu NY, Sns
little ound-shoudered man cast last look ~
! the huge bar, where nothing was to be seen put
dirty plates the almost empty dishes when tns
cooks were putting aside. clearing away the uo-
tritus: and that look seemed to feed on the pros.
pect as If he carrying the provisions win
him. like the gaze Of dying man VINO wants.
for the last time, to fill his mind with the accus.
toned objects he has loved. to carry away ~
least the image Of them to the other world.
Oh! that look, that long, hungry, wild look OK
the little sandy-haired mans 1t gave me =
fresh blow on my heart, and the instructive sisn
which mechanically accompanied the poor iei'
lows last glance grieved me even more. CeS.
tainly this was dire poverty; nothing cou,u ~
easier to guess, to be sure or indeed. bu. ~
suddenly vanished through a small door Denino
the platform by some back stairs; and scarceiy
had time to notice the strange bow, fuli OF aneS
ton that he gave to one of the cooks still stano.
ing by the counter and the familiar patronZlh9
nod with which the jacketed parsonage returned
the bow while he wiped his greasy myers %
his apron. II was the greeting or master auS
servant and the servant was the iittle tnreao'
bare musician who had played the Irish air
1.-THE Last Rose Of Summer, out OF MaFthds
with such feeling just now
l could, II I had chosen, have questioned the
cook to the name and mode OF Ire OF ths
poor hute-player whose grotesque ngute nag
now vanished. But the man would nave tnougnt
such impertnent questions too eccentric from
beated diner, sitting there and delaying the
hour Of final closing.
I left the Star Restaurant and jumped into Q
hanson cab to go to the play Shakespeare
Henry WILL" as huge and burly as Rabelaise
IGargantua drove the poor Wretch Hdu occh AZ
the Oxford-st restaurant out OF my mihd TOT 'hs
moment.
However I thought Of him again on the NOR.
row, promising myself that l would go BACK
to the great hall where the musician, night AFTER
night, drew signs from his pierced stick; ana
with my mania for connecting. guessing or I'm.
agining romance in the simplest incidents,
composed whole poem OF a spoiled Ire, INC
biography of highly gifted artist conquered BY
Fate misprized and fallen step by step from
one disappointment to another, TO TINS nleian-
choly plight-to be the player in the orchestra
Of dining hall, Of musical accompanments 70
the meals, to be josted in his dreams by WALTERS
and dishes loaded with eatabes
But the days slipped by. Life is too full IN .
foreign city. Every day brought some engage.
ment and some fresh OBJECT TAR from Oxroru.
st. Perhaps I might never more go to the
Star Restaurant to see, possibly to question
who can tell?-the little man with the bald head
He would vanish by degrees be efaced from my
memory like dwindng image, the vision OK ,
dream. tdf
AS luck would have it, in that enormous Lon
don-a world Of stone-a rnonstrous ant-hea1
where myriads OF human ants live ana move
do their task. drag their blade OF grass-I met
again with the musician OF the Popular Dinner
/ was going to the Crystal Palace; was alons
I'm nv commandment In the black atmosphere
Of those lines smelling of cellarage where one si0
stifed and whore the yellow smoke steals n
through closed windows-railways under tho
eyiscerated city, which. with their distant lght3
remind one Of the galleries Of a mine-when e
one OF the underground stations by the glimmel
of the gas saw, among party OF hatchet-faced
wretches. dressed in colorless clothes dngy and
shabby, reminding me, with their sort felt nan
or dusty caps Of the creatures VINO hang aoout
the Whitechape workhouses-yes saw tho
little flute player from the Star Restaurant SET
foot on the platform and go slowly toward the
exit from this dismal station, Of which the damp
vaulting poisonous with coal smoke, opened by
stone stairway to the upper air, the city, ana
life | nstinctivay looked at the name or Id
station: II was Snow HILL
And having but a feeble wish to the great
deserted bazaar. the uncrowned palace or cryste@,
/ suddenly made up my mind 10 stop here, 70
follow my musician. thus flung in my path
again by such an improbable meeting; so I. too
got out marking time at the end OF the stream
Of poor devils who were leaving the station. and
who under the gas looked like paupers or prowh
ers in tatters.
They were however only artisans and labor
ing men Of the poorer class. The dim light cast.
ing hollow shadows on the pale faces. gave them
an evil expression which they lost when seen
close; they were but resigned. The little mu-
sican Of the Star Restaurant, on the contrary.
looked leaner and weaker and paer as / got
closer to him.
He was carrying at the tips OF his long. con-
sumptive fingers. a parcel wrapped In black
serge. and which appeared to me to weigh him
down, for all his weakly body bent over 10 the
right az II the parcel overbalanced the poor feb
lows whole weight; II might have been sup
posed that this leaning frame had been complete.
" distorted by hemplegia
saw him walk on in front OF me- and his back,
| under the shabby overCoat he wore instead OF
the no less shabby black tail-coat OF ceremony,
had the same poverty stricken stoop that had
observed on the platform. The shoulder blades
showed under the shiny CLOTH in the same greasy
outline and could almost have traced through
the stuff the knotted row OF prominent vertebrsn,
like the beads Of rosary of suffering.
| followed him along the streets mechanically.
but also with curiosity He went but slowly,
though he seemed to be in hurry and anxious
to get on fast But he stopped from time To time
as II he wanted breath. Then he changed the
parcel from one hand to the other, and the
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