St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1899-04-01
With the = y
Coming of Euen
Ry e4gnes Grosier Herbertson.

I is only the wind" said the Poet.
He threw himself iistlessly upon
the hard leather couch, and turned his
face 10 the wall
The waves Gashed inadly upon the
rocks below the little cottage; with
angry shrieking the wind beat up the
waves; and the moan of the storm
came upon the wind. The Poet heard
all these. and smiled wearily; young
IN years. he was old in spirit. in expert
ence, in enjoyment; they had no charm
for him.
lie opened his lips now in discomfort.
sea that one is dead Sex of it ALL" He
sighed; 4 can find in if nothing that
has not been found before"
He himself had written not a little
concerning the beauties of the sea, but
his hand had been young IN sooth when
it held the pen. and his eyes not yet
aweary.
He turned restlessly on the couch,
bemoaning its hardness. and cursing
the friend whose advice had sent him
to recruit at this little fishing town,
throwing all the burden of his disgust
of life and his own feebleness into the
cursing-
Then through and betwixt the voices
of the storm came wailing cry; the
cry of a lost soul at Gods gates; the
cry for the unattainabl from the lips
of child of earth. Rising higher and
higher, il. beat sobbingly upon the
wind; it cried with the echo Of the
seaguils' warning; it scattered with
the soft sea foam; and sank hushing
and palpitating into the mutter OF the
waves. But only to rise again in mel
ody so triumphant as to override in its
grandeur the voices Of the angry ocean.
1T was the great sea-spirit,' said the
Poet.
But the sound had hardly seemed to
come from the sea-rather from above.
He rose and walked to the window.
at was not the wind" he said, aloud.
1t was still bowling, but the music
had ceased He threw open the vim
dow and looked out. The wind fell in
~
his hair. The sea shouted at him with
angry: menace. The look of the sky
upon him was without a CLINT OF
smile.
But again the music rose; but SO soft
" that he had to strain his ears to catch
the murmur of the half-hushed cradle
song. When it ceased again the voices
IN he
and the sea to be aweary Of rage. The
wind fell, and into the sky came a
white glimmer where a silver star
sought its entrance to the heavens.
The Poet stood there long, his arms
resting on the sill, dreamy look on
his old-young face. There had come to
him one Of those moments which he
fancied had left him forever. when his
mind. like the worn-out sea. could hush
its crying and be at peace.
1t was only when, on his way to his
bedroom later. he passed his landlady
ON the stairs that the problem of the
strange music he had heard returned
TO him. 1T seemed in the house. and
vet not in the house" he mnrmured to
himself, stopping her. 1t has been a
wild night. Mrs. Lewis
"IndeeG, and it has. sir. but it has
settled down nicely.
.It was strange; but l thought /
heard during the storm the sound OF a
violin. Some one has chosen strange
time to play
.There's Miss White. sir: she has the
room above yours. She teaches the
fiddle in .own-goes up every day. But
shes not been playin' tonight. sir;
and shes the only one in the place that
can
20. that explains il. She must have
heen playing. No doubt il was she !
heard
But she hasn't been playin tonight.
sir. I beg your pardon for saying it..
I've been sittin' SEWN in the room just
above her head. and never a sound have
heard, She's been that STILL too.
The Poet laughed, but went on his
vay unconvincedt strange playing for
= teacher of tho violin" he thought.
..and d strange time in which TO play.
she must be strange girl.
r. never occurred TO him, in the ar
roCancc Of his few years. that she
might, be more than girl. Indeed, he
s,,eefsiN forgot the whole matter. But
n the dead OF the night he rose. and.
haxtily donning a few garments. sat
iii the gray of the morning inscribing
,br thoughts of which the strange
.trains had scwn the seed. He had
ta,,ra in the sea what he had never
found before
III.
with the golden eye Of the sun upon
rim he threw himself upon his toss
;nr hefn and slept until after MONDAY.
Afterwards he rambled upon the shore,
returning. tired and lis,less, at length
"a his chambers.
..Niss Nhitc, she's leavin' tomorrow
mornins.~ his landlady told him, as she
laid his tea
I'm. the Poet was not interested. He
~cp5erexi who Miss White might be.
..Irdeed?'' he drawled languiday. He
rcused himself to poke the fire as a
~4onper to any other attempt at con-
.--rxat;on: and Mrs. Lewis took the
hint.
Rnt in the evening when. with the
~cm;nv cut of the stars. delicate
shread OF sound wound itself through
Il. Stiffness. his interest came back TO
him. He threw himself upon his couch,
and gave himself up to the pleasure oi
M sweet strains. Yet was it hardly
.l..xure, but more a fine pain. There
- ii the music naught of the wailing
81 Yesterdays. naught OF its pleading
r.nsht of its passion. naught of its
ncne. 1t was like. the Poet told him
8 .,lf. . wire of polished silver, wire
that might turn and twist in ones dest