The free lance. (Fredericksburg, Va.) 1885-1926, 1901-09-14
SATURDAY SEPTEMBERll 1901
A ROMANCE OF RAGS
BY Hope Harte.

Of the busiest streets of the city. The
beautiful" covered him with a white
mantle, and cold, biting wind sweep
chlls through his thin, worn coat
. Passers by there were by hundreds, bu
none bestowed upon him more than &
dlsintereSted glance He was a "stran
ger within the gate" of city where
poverty is too common 10 awake com
ment.
Rags" was the emnently fitting so
hriQuet given him by half dozen dev
fish youngsters.
Rags" had walked the streets all day
in a fruitless search for employment
He was willing to do anything For
Gods sake, let me do something"
The many times he had made this ap-
peal he had ceased to count. Truly
there was nothing prepossessing In the
appearance of the shaggy haired man,
with the stoop Of 60 years and the
burden of his poverty. And Rags "
services were not in demand.
1t was growing dusk. Through the
thick mist Of snow the electric lights
began TO twinkle.
The lonely man on the corner put his
hands in his pockets-they were empty.
lie heaved a sigh and, turning, entered
a narrow side street leading to cheap
lodging house. The door closed behind
him. and he wendell his way up two
flights of rickCty stairs to his room
his home, The mockery Of the word
to how many poor, weary, aching,
breaking human hearts. 1t was cheer
less and cold. but the wind didn't blow
in even at that big hole In the window
half so hard as II did on the corner
and Rags" was grateful for the cot
and the rickety table. with Its new red
and green cover (the donation Of some
enterpriSng "Dorcas club. and a hard
wooden chair.
A violin case stood in one corner OF
the room.
Rags" lighted the dirty lamp and
brought forth his old violin. He touch
ed it tenderly with lis almost frozen
fingers, rested it under his Quiyering
chin and drew the bow caressingly
across the strings.
He loved ii. IL had been his compan-
ion now for 10 years.
Its every tone was fraught with
sweet memories When the strings
awoke TO magic melody under the pres
sure Of Loves bow. there thrilled an
answering vibration in a fair womans
heart. and even after the heart was
Stilled the violin was the medium for
heart to heart" talks-the messenger
from soul TO soul II had been his
good fairy" it had brought him into
favor with the tickle goddess. Fortune
and the queen of fame had smiled
when be and the old fiddle had played
for her-long, long ago.
If Rags" were playing for her to
night, she would surely lay a laurel
wreath upon his silver hair, and tickle
Fortune should return and fill his peck
cts with golden nuggets direct from far
Cape Nome. for he played tonight as he
had never played before.
\ man passing on the street below
paused and listened. He entered the
lodging house and followed the stairs
up to the half open door whence came
the music. He was a man of 80, per
haps, and his face was one familiar to
amusement patrons. He waited for the
music to cease.
Fiye-ten minutes-and still the VIC
linist played. Each passing moment the
listener felt more certain that he had
not been mistaken. He peered in at the
door. The faint light fell across the old
mans face, his fingers had warmed, his
eyes flashed, and the love for his old in
strument (ah, there was the secret of
his power tonight shOne in his counte
nance. There was only one thing else
on earth he cared for-since Kate was
gone-and tonight was the last time he
would ever touch the beloved violin!
Tomorrow it would hang in some
pawnbroker's shop. and he
His frame shook with sobs, and the
music ended In broken chord.
Father
The word was uttered In a low, con.
centrated tone, and the strong hand Of
youth clasped the feeble hand Of age.
Father
The old man started. The gray head
was raised. and the vlolinist looked
into-the handsome face before him.
my boyl My boy" he cried, bis
arms round the two things he loved
most on earth, the old violin and bis
child.
And you never received my letter
father" the boy bad asked. 81 supposed
your silence meant that you were still
angry with me, and pride forbade my
writing again."
at was too hard on you, my lad" the
old man wept. Kate told me so. Six
teen was but boy, and the circus ring
is attractive"-
From a reserved seat" the young
man interrupted. But the spangles
are for the benefit of the audience, and
sometimes each separate spangle means
a separate heartache to the wearer
Many. many times | longed to see the
old home and you and-mother. And
you have been searching for me ever
SINCE
And after awhile the young man told
the old one little story Of
One made up
OF loyeliness alone
womsn-oi her gentle sex
The seeming paragon.
who had brought into bis life bright
ness thousands Of times more radiant
than ever the spangles O. circus riders
In years Of yore
Then the old man and the young mar
and the violin that would not hang in
pawnbroker's shop oil the morrow all
went away together to find her.