St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1902-08-20

themselves in wide circle about the
fire, which now roared and cracked up
the great wooden chimney hanging
from the roof. The lumberman's hour
of bliss had arrived. Even old man
Nelson looked a shade less melancho
than usual as he sat alone, we'll ava
from the fire, smoking steadily and ST.
lently. When the second pipes were
well a-going one of the men took down
a violin from the wall and handed it to
Lachlan Campbell. There were two
brothers Campbell just out from Argyll,
typical ghlanders-Lachlan, dark, ST.
lent, melancholy, with the face Of
mystic, and Angus, red haired, quick,
impulsive and devoted to his brother, a
devotion he thought proper to cover
under biting, sarcastic speech.
Lachlan after much protestation, in
terspersed with gibes from his brother,
took the violin and, in response to the
call from all sides, struck up Lord
Macdonald's Reel" In a moment the
floor was filled with dancers, whoop-
ing and cracking their fingers in the
widest manner Then Baptiste did
the RED River Jig" a most intricate
and difficult series Of steps, the men
keeping time to the music with hands
and feet.
When the jig was finished, Sandy
called for "Lochaber No More" but
Campbell said
mo, no; l cannot play that tonight.
Mr.. Craig will play"
Craig took the violin, and at the first
note l knew he was no ordinary play
er. / did not recognize the music, but
it was soft and thrilling and got in 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, Now, Lochaber,' Lach-
lam"
Without a word Lachlan began, not
"Lochaber"-he was not ready for that
yet-but "The Flowers O. the Forest"
and from that wandered through
"Auld 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 some 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,
and Graeme, beyond the fire. drew
short, sharp breath. We had often sat,
Graeme and l, in our student days, in
the drawing room at home, listening
to his father wailing out "Lochaber"
upon the pipes, and l well 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.
l glanced at old man Nelson and was
startled at the eager, almost piteous,
look in his eyes, and 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 q moments pause and while
the spell Of "Lochaber' was still upon
us the minister, with exquisite skill,
fell into the refrain of that 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, at first timidly,
but by the time the third verse was
reached they were shouting with
threats full open, 1--WE shall meet on
that beautiful shore" When l looked
at Nelson, the eager light had gone out
of his eyes, and in it's place was kind
of determined hOpelessness, as if in
this new music he had no part.
After the voices had ceased Mr.. Craig
pay CN dSdlA lhC ASIAd4h, hOlC anu
more softly and slowly. Then, laying
the violin on Campbelrs knees, he drew
from his pocket his little Bible and
said:
"Men, with Mr.. Graeme's permission
want to read you something this
Christmas eve. You will all have heard
1t before, but you will like it 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 a slight motion
of the hand or glance of an eye made
us see, as he was seeing, that whole
radiant drama. The wonder, the timid
joy, the tenderness, the mystery of it
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 a little afraid Of the