Barton County democrat. [volume] (Great Bend, Kan.) 1885-1915, 1899-03-17
With the ~ ~
Coming of Euen
Ry o4qnes Grosier Herbefson.


The waves dashed madly upon the
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 YEARLY; young
in years, he was old in spirit, in expert
encc, in enjoyment; they had no charm
for him.
He opened his lips now in discomfort.
'SThey have written so much about the
sea that one is dead sick Of it ALL" He
sighed; 81 can find in it 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 soothwhen
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
cursiug.
Then through and betwiXt the voices
of the storm came a wailing cry; the
cry of lost soul at Gods gates; the
cry for the unattainable from the lips
of a child of earth. Rising higher and
higher, it beat. sobbingly upon the
wind; it cried with the echo of the
seagulls' warming; it scattered with
the soft sea foam; and sank hushing
and palpitating into the mutter of the
waves. But only to rise again in a mel
ody so triumphant as to override in its
grandeur the voices of the angry ocean.
sit 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.
cit was not. the wind,'' he said, aloud.
1t was still bowling. but the music
had ceased. He threw open the WIN
dow and looked out. The wind fell in
blast upon his thin face, and tossed
his hair The sea shouted at him with
angry menace. The look of the. sky
upon him was without a CLINT of a
smile.
Butagain the music rose; but so soft
ly that he had to strain his ears to catch
the murmur of the half-hushed cradle
song. When it ceased again the voices
OF the storm seemed to be sinking.
and the sea to be aweary of rage. The
wind fell, and into the sky came a
| white glilnmer where a silver star
sought its entrance to the heavens.
The Poet stood there long, his arms
resting on the sill, a 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
| it's crying and be at peace.
| In 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. at seemed in the house, and
yet not in the house" he murmured to
himself, stopping her. 1T has been a
wild night, Mrs. Lewis"
Indeed, and it has, sir, but it has
settled down nicely
''Et was strange; but 1 thought
heard during the storm the sound of a
violin Some one has chosen a strange
time to play"
There's Miss White, sir: she has the
room above yours. She teaches the
fiddle in town-goes up every day. But
| she's not been playin' tonight, sir;
and she's the only one in the place that
can"
go, that explains it! She must have
been playing. No doubt it was she
| heard"
s'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 stin, too"
The Poet laughed, but went on his
| way unconvincedL Strange playing fol
a teacher of the violin, he thought
sand a strange time in which to play
She must be a strange girl"
Il It never occurred to hims in the ar
rogance of his few years. that she
might be more than girl Indeed, ht
speedily forgot the whole matter. But
in the dead of the night, he rose. and
hastily DOMINIC few garments, sa
till the gray of the morning inscribine
the thoughts of which the strangs
strains had sown the seed. He haS
! found in the sea what he had never
found before.
) With the golden eye of the sun upoI
him, he threw himself upon his toss
ing bed and slept until after MONDAY
| Afterwards he rambled upon the shore
5 returning, tired and listlesss at length
] to his chambers.
l Miss White, she's leavin' tomorrow
mornin','' his 1andlady told him, as sh
!. laid his tea.
But the Poet was not interested. II
wondered who Miss White might be
"Indeed?'' he S1rawled languiday- 81
: reused himself to poke the fire as
stopper to any other attempt at con
versation; and Mrs. Lewis took tn
| hint.