Vilas County news. [volume] (Eagle River, Vilas County, Wis.) 1896-1927, 1901-05-13

sources, ana he tried TO earn rev
dollars by teaching. He was given
the position of organist at one of the
| churches and the meager salary help
| ed him to live But he was lonely,
in bad health and had no friend,
| brother, or sister. His life was so
desolate that ever strangers noticed it
and would speak a kind word to the
| gray-haired musician.
But there was one bright spot to
cheer his last days. She was 'beauti-
full southern girl, with the fair, soft
complexion of the southern cline.
She had seen but 10 summers and
was as sweet and unselfish as she was
beautiful
| Rosa Whitfield was his favorite pu-
pill and she always tried to throw a
few rays of sunshine into his life.
Sometimes when the lessons were
over, she would pin a rosebud on his
coat or send some little delicacies to
his lonely studio. Often there were
big punches of southern roses. He
would place them on his piano and
play out his soul to the sweet-scented
beauties. Once he pressed bud in
book and pinned it to a poem.
| But the gray hairs were growing
thicker among the thin locks and his
health was failing. One morning in
the fall, that pretty Indian summer of
| the south, he went to her home to give
a lesson as usual. She saw that he
was very weak and she did not want
him to teach that day. But he in
sisted. He needed the money and she
reluctantly yielded. That morning
she sang sweeter than usual and there
was something especially tender in his
music.
But the effort was too much for him.
| All of sudden his head began to reel,
his eyes to grow dim and his voice to
! fall. He clutched at a chair and fell
! to the floor. He awoke on the couch
and felt the touch Of a gentle hand
upon his brow. He seemed to realize
that the end was drawing near and his
eyes filled with tears as he gazed upon
the young girl. If a friend like the
one beside him could do SO much for
an old man, what would love have
been in his younger days? She had
been so kind to him and he owed so
much to the tender words and gentle
deeds. He seemd to be thinking of the
past as he looked into her eyes and
began to talk.
"Your name is Rosa. 1t is sweet
name. You are my friend, you-you
are my Rosa" Then sudden light
came into the old mans eyes and he
sprang from the couch.
"My Rosa!" he exclaimed my
/ Rosary! / will write a song and it
shall be called that for YOU" The
gray haired musician faltered min
ute and then added in pathetic voice,
"and fear it will be my last"
i 1t was then that one of the sweet
est songs ever written was born. He
was enthused with the inspiration and
though almost unable to stand alone,
went to his studio. There, all night
long, by the light of an oil lamp, he
toiled at the piano, putting his emo
lions into music.
/ BY daylight it was finished. He
made copy and carried it to her to
try. He never played an accompani-
ment as he did that morning and she
sang the song as it has never been
sung since. A week later she sang it
in concert and 1t caught the public
ear like a whirlwind.
i But the musician never recovered
from the shock. He took to his bed,
and gradually the eyes dimmed until
last week they closed forever. During
his illness almost every morning
/ there was bunch of roses beside his
bed, that had been gathered by the
fair southern girl and often she would
drop in for minute to cheer him up
and bring some delicacy which she
j had prepared with her own hands to
tempt his appetite. It was she that
sat beside his bed and cooled his brow
as the last light in his eyes died away.
The funeral took place at the church
which he had served as organist. 1t
was an unusually solemn occasion.
/ Just as the minister finished his dis
course, a beautiful sunny-faced girl
lstepped to the chancel rail and began
the soft, sweet strains of melody to
the tender accompaniment of the great
organ. The dead composer lay at her
1 feet. The audience was as still as
death, and many eyes were filed with
tears. The song was finished and the
remains we're taken from the church.
my Rosary" had new meaning for
those who heard the song that morn
ing. At the head Of the grave the same
girlish figure placed large bunch Of
roses, and on the ribbon was written
the opening notes to the tender melody
which is stirring the hearts of thou
sands by it's peculiar sweetness.
T.