The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1899-07-05

OATS what | call shown spec to Sis
Marty, putin his banjo up in de ve'y
place whah it'll get all dus'. Brothah
Ben sho is diff'ent f'om any husban' |
evan had" She had just provided Liz
with third stepfather.
On many evenings after Martha had
been laid away, the children, seeing
Ben come and sit outside his cabin
door, would gather around, waiting,
and hoping that the banjo would be
brought out, but they were doomed to
disappointment. On the high shelf the
old banjo still reposed, gathering dust.
Finally one of the youngsters, bolder
than the rest, spoke: Amt you gwine
play no mo-, Uncle Benz and received
sad shake of the head in reply, and a
laconic Nope"
This remark Liz dutifully reported to
her mother. mo, O co'se not" said that
wise woman with emphasis; 20 co'se
Brothah Ben aim gwine play no mo-; ;
not right now, leas'ways; an dom you
go dab pesterin' him, nuther, Liz. You
be perlite an spectacle to him, an
make yo' 'bejunce when you pass
1t was several months after this that
a number of young people came from
the north to visit the young master,
Robert Curtis. 1t was on the second
evening of their stay that young
Eldridge said: Look here, Mr.. Curtis,
my father visited your plantation years
ago, and he told me of wonderful ban
iniSt Won had onI cold I avian n, ~, a
here to be sure and hear him if he was
alive. Is hep
you mean old Ben? Yes, he's still
living, but the death of his wife rather
sent him daft, and he hasn't played for
long time
"Pshaw, I'm sorry. We laughed at
fathers enthusiasm over him, because
we thought he overrated his powers
Il reckon not. He was truly wonder
full
Don't you think you can stir him
up?"
ooh, do, Mr.. Curtis" chorused num-
Der of voices.
well, | don't know said Robert,
"but come with me and I'll try
The young people took their way to
the cabin where old Ben occupied his
accustomed place before the door.
Uncle Ben" said Robert, here are
some friends of mine from the north
who are anxious to hear you play, and
l knew you'd break your rule for me-"
"Chile, honey" began the old man.
But Robert interrupted him. Pm
not going to let you say no, 'and he hur-
ried past Uncle Ben into the cabin. He
came out, brushing the banjo and say
ing: ''Whew. the dust!''
The old man sat dazed as the instru-
ment was thrust into his hand. He
looked pitifully into the faces about
him, but they were all expectancy.
Then his fingers wandered to the neck,
and he tuned the old banjo. Then he
began to play. He seemed inspired.
His listeners stood transfXed.
From piece to piece he glided, pour
ing out the music in silver stream.
His old fingers seemed to have forgot
ten their stiffness as they few over the
familiar strings. For nearly an hour
he played and then abruptly stopped.
The applause was generous and real,
but the old man only smiled sadly, and
with a faraway look in his eyes.
AS they turned away, somewhat awed
by his manner, they heard him begin to
play softly an old hymn. 1t was Hank!
From the Tomb"
He stopped when but half through,
and Robert returned to ask him TO fin
ish, but his head had fallen forward
close against the banjo's neck, and there
was smile on his face, as if he had sud-
denly had sweet memory of Martha
Saturday Evening Post.