The Laurens advertiser. (Laurens, S.C.) 1885-1973, 1902-12-31

hNht thO JA6 Woo hulohCut OaDuy
called for "Lochaber No More" but
Campbell said:
mo, no; 1 caImot play that tonight.
Mr.. Craig will play"
Craig took the violin, and at the first
note i knew he was no ordinary play
er. 1 did not recognize the music, but
1t was soft and thrilling and got I'm by
the heart till every one was thinking
his tenderest and saddest thoughts.
After he had played two or three ex
quisite bits he gave Campbell his vio-
lin, saying, Nov. Lochaber,' Lach-
lam"
Without n word Lachlan began, not
"Lochaber"-he was not ready for that
yet-but 1.-THE Flowers o. the Forest
and from that wandered through
Aud Robin Gray" and "The Land o.
the Leal," and SO got at last to that
most soul subduing of Scottish la.
ments, "Lochaber No More" At the
first strain his brother, who had thrown
himself on ONE blankets behind the
fire, turned over on his face, feigning
sleep. Sandy McNaughton took his
pipe out of his Mouth and sat up
straight and stiff, staring into vacancy,
n Graeme, beyond the fire, drew a
short, sharp breath. We had often sat,
Graeme and L, in our student days, in
the drawing room at home, listening
to his father waiting out ~"Lochaber"
upon the pipes, and 1 we'll knew that
the awful minor strains were now eat
ing their way into his soul.
Over and over again the highlander
played his lament. He had long since
forgotten us and was seeing visions of
the hills and lochs and glens of his far
away native land and making us, too,
see strange things out of the dim past.
I glanced ut old man Nelson and was
startled at the eager, almost piteous,
look In his eyes, I'M l wished Camp
bell would stop. Mr.. Craig caught my
eye and, stepping Over to Campbell,
held out his hand for the violin. Lin
geringly and lovingly the highlander
drew out the last strain and silently
gave the minister his instrument.
Without a moments pause and while
the spell of "Lochabcr" was still upon
us the minister, with exquisite skill,
fell into the refrain of hat simple and
beautiful camp meeting hymn, "The
Sweet BY and By" After playing the
verse through once he sang softly the
refrain. After the first verse the men
Joined In the chorus, Mt first timidly,
but by the time the third verse was
reached they were shouting with
throats full open, I'VE shall meet on
that beautiful shore" When / looked
at Nelson, the eager light had gone out
Of his eyes, and in Its place was n kind
Of determined hopelessness, as if in
| thio Yof,, r,,,cio l,D l,ol 40 ,o,&
After the voices had ceased Mr.. Craig
played again the refrain, more and
more softly and slowly. Then, laying
the violin on Campbell's knees, he drew
from his pocket his little Bible and
said:
"Mcn, with Mr.. Graeme's permission,
| want to read you something this
Christmas eve. You will all have heard
1t before, but you will like 1t none the
less for that"
His voice was soft, but clear and pen
etrating as he read the eternal story Of
the angels and the shepherds and the
Babe, and as he read q slight motion
of the hand or n glance Of an eye made
us see, rs he was seeing, that whole
radiant drama. The wonder, the timid
Joy, the tenderness, the mystery of 1t
all, were borne in upon us with over
towering effect. He closed the book
and in the same low, clear voice went
on to tell us how, in his home years
ago, he used to stand on Christmas eve
listening in thrilling delight to his
mother telling him the story, and how
she used to make him see the shepherds
and hear the sheep bleating near by,
and how the sudden burst of glory used
to make his heart jump.
II used to be q little afraid OF the
angels, because n boy old me they
were ghosts, but my mother told me
better, and I didn't fear them any
more. And the Baby, the dear little
Baby-we all love q baby"
There was n quick, dry sob. 1t was
from Nelson.
IL used to peek through under to see
the little one in the straw and wonder
what things swaddling clothes We're.
Oh, 1t was all so real and beautifulr'
He paused, and L could near the men
breathing.
"But one Christmas eve,' he went on
in n lower, sweeter tone, "thcre was
no n to tell me the story, and 1 grew
to forget it and went away to college
and learned to think that 1t was only
a child's tale and was not for men.
Then bad days came to me, and worse,
and l began to lose my grip Of myself,
of life, of hope, of goodness, till one
black Christmas, in the slums of a far
away city, when I had given up all
and the DEVILS arms were about me, /
heard the story again, and as l listen
ed, with a bitter ache in my heart, for
I had put 1t all behind me, 1 suddenly
found myself pceking under the shep-
herds arms with q chiId's wonder Mt
the Baby in the straw. Then 1t came
over me like great waves that his
name was Jesus, because 1t was he
that should q v men from their sins.
Save! Save! The waves Kept beating
upon my ears, and before l knew /
had called out, ooh, can he save me2'
1t was in n little mission meeting on
n of the side streets, and they seem
ed to be used to hat sort Of thing
there, for no one was surprised, and a
young fellow leaned across the aisle
to me and said, why, you just bet he
can! His surprise that / should doubt,
his bright face and confident tone, gave
me hope that perhaps it might be SO. I
held to that hope with all my soul,
and" stretching up his arms and with