Santa Fe new Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1898-1951, 1899-06-28

yearning, n~nspeakable melancholy.
None of them moved. They were fear.
full OF losing a note.
"a crowd had gathered about the
musician by this time, staring and lis
tening with open mouths and bated
breath. And SO they would have re.
manned all night, l suppose, but a heavy
faced villain of a policeman, with more
authority than soul, shouldered into the
crowd and told the boy to move on.
"Now, my brother William" said
Uncle Joshua, sis something of a vic.
linist himself, He was one Of the party
on the hotel porch, and no sooner had
the policeman stopped the concert than
up he got aud ran after the strange mu-
stefan like a boy after a circus parade.
BILLY had been over in Paris the
winter before and while there had stun.
bled on to a lot Of music by an old
French composer whom the world had
never discovered, by the name of Fran
co.'s Fayette. This Fayette, my brother
told me, had come to the city a century
or two before from somewhere in the
south of France, with a lot Of music he
had composed, and then disappeared.
His music had lain u%ndisturbed in the
garrett Of an old building many years
and from thence had passed into the
hands of a dealer in old manuscripts,
and it was from him William secured
it.
NOW, it seems that the piece Will
liam had heard the musician play that
night was one Of these identical compo-
sitions by the forgotten Fayette. He
had always thought it a marvelously
sweet little composition, even when he
played it himself. But as be had heard
the stranger render it it was a dream
and a revelation.
well, the upshot Of the matter was
that after much urging and pleading
William managed to bring the boy
home with him that night. After we
had fed him and he had rested and told
us his story, not without a great deal Of
tactful questioning III our part, he
finally took his violin and began to
play.
"Ah," said Uncle Joshua softly, as
he sank back into his chair and closed
his eyes, 81 cannot tell you how he
played. Even | had tears in my eyes
that l couldn't keep back. And still his
selections were always from the compo-
sitiors of the misty Fayette. Where had
he learned them? He could not tell us.
1t was all in his heart, he said. 1t was
the music that had come to him from
murmuring pines and ripping streams,
and some of it, he said, was what he
heard on stormy nights.
"He played far into the night for us,
and then next morning we had one Of
our darkies hitch up and take him
home. William had given him enough
money for his rent, and the boy prom
ised a speedy return.
IA week passed, and then another
week. With his absence the wonder his
playing had aroused in US increased.
Indeed, we almost came to doubt the
reality of it all. Where had he ever
heard the music Of Fayette? Indeed,
nov could he have ever heard it at all?
He could not be an impostor. The mys-
terry could not be explained away on the
grounds of mere coincidence.
"We were on the point Of driving out
to the boys cabin to hear him play
again, when one morning, bright and
early, a tall and lanky youth, carrying
an oblong bundle under his arm, came
up to the door Of our mouse and in
quired for William. He and I were eat
ing breakfast at the time, and the
stranger. evidently q Cracker, was ush-
cred in.
"'Be you all the gentleman ez give
Bub the rent money! he inquired, adj
dressing William. William said that
he was. We'll, Buh, he's dead, en- he
sent you all this fer to remember him
by We learned little more. The boy
had died two days before from no ap-
parent cause. His last request was con-
corning the violin.
1.-TWO months later. when autumn
was we'll on and the nights we're becom.
ing chilly, William and l were sitting
before the fireplace n evening talking
about the boy who had played such
wonderful music. William was holding
the violin in his lap, idly examining
the workmanship. Suddenly l saw him
draw the violin up and look closely at
the head. There's a name or some
thing he said, ON this little shell
plate that I've never noticed. By Jove,
what if He jumped up and held the
violin close to the light. 1t was hang
ing over his shoulder on the instant.
And there, very faint, but clear enough
in the strong light to be read, engraved
in fine French script, wal a name that
sent our hearts ~a-leaping like mad.
Boys, the name on the violin was that
Of Francois Fayette. denver News.