The Fulton County news. [volume] (McConnellsburg, Pa.) 1899-current, 1903-03-12
THE HERMIT OF THE
FLATS.

for an instant take his eyes from the
beautiful. pallid face which the mel
low freight threw into sharp relief.
Why did that stranger child interest
him so Overwhelmingly? he asked him,
self Srimly; was it because of the pos.
slble story 1t held, or had he touched
the Slossed-over springs of human
sympathy which had lain dormant so
long under the stolid Indifference that
cloaked the hermit of the flats?
1t was pathetic little story that the
lad had to tell and he told it in falter.
Ing English with now and then n word
OF his Servian mother tongue to offset
Its pathos; of his immigrant father. q
musician in the old country, who had
been obliged to take work in n factory
to avert starvation. whose death oc.
CURED shortly after through an explo.
sion Of the factory works; of the subse.
quent wanderings in a strange city.
His only friends had lately been en-.
gagged to travel with concert band,
and he was trying to find a country.
man who had promised him an inslg.
nificant part with his wandering band
He was quite alone in the world, with.
out kindred or friends or money. His
only hope was to obtain work enough
to pay his return passage to Servia.
IIaswell asked many questions, but the
lads story never deviated except to
add some pathetic detail which showed
how much toll and privation his young
life had known.
Il used to take great deal of pleas.
ure in music" said Haswell, when the
child had finished his story and drawn
his chair closer to the blazing hearth
suppose you play something for mo
If you are warm enough to handle your
violin. want to know what you can
do"
Rhucl tucked his old violin under his
chin and frightened the slack strings,
then he dried his bow carefully and
began to play. very softly and deli
cately. a weird little melody unlike
anything Haswell had ever heard, more
sad. more beautiful, and infinitely
sweeter. There was lack of tech.
nique and definlteness in his touch
which would bar successful hearing
with the coldly critical public. but to
Haswell. whose soul was stirred to its
inmost depths by the spirit of pure
melody. it seemed inexpresslbly lovely.
1t brought new pictures to his mind,
of unsuspected beauty, of lives shad.
owed by want and poverty, toilers in
the dark whom such as he, to whom
much had been given. should minister
comfort and cheer. He seated himself
before his desk and began to write,
without conscious effort or weariness,
the story that the chld's music in
spired. The boy played on unceaslng-
ly. giancing NV and then at the hand
hurrying across the paper. until at
last Haswell lifted his head and smiled.
You are tired. I'm sure" he said in
voice of singular gentleness. PUT
away your violin and go to bed in my
room. yOnder; l want to finish my
work here beside the fire."
A week later. when Haswell took his
story down to Boynton's Office. the lat.
ter glanced 1t over skeptically, read q
few lines of the last page, then began
ut the start and went through it, word
for word, with eager attention. When
he had finished he looked up at Has.
well'with queer. unaccustomed smile.
IF you can do a thing like that once"
he said, ''you can do 1t again. That's
the sort of stuff We want. I'll give
you $50 for every story of that kind
you send me-"
| Haswell went back to his hermit fiat
in an exultant frame of mind. He
found his little guest crouching before
the fire with his curly head bowed
over the violin. "Rhuel," he began ab.
ruptly, you have given me a great
deal OF pleasure with your music, and
to show you l appreciate the kindness
| have decided to send you home. "A
week from to-day you shall have your
passage ticket"
The boy looked up with q start, and
his face grew. IL possible, paler. He
rose, laid down his violin. and took n
step toward his benefactor. then
paused and looked at him with glow
ing eyes.
Are you very glad?" Haswell asked.
smiling whlmslcally.
"Yes, Mister, an no. too. ! love my
country-but haf no relative"
perhaps you would rather have the
money!" Haswell suggested rather
coldly.
Rhuel shook his head. Suddenly he
put out one thin hand and touched
Haswells shoulder with an appealing
gesture that thrilled the older man
strangely. "Mister, l raider stay wild
you." he faltered. 'If you let me,
JUS love to stay"
, stay with mew Haswell echoed In
adequately. Then he laughed and
caught the thin little hand In his big
. warm grasp.
II really believe we'd hit 1t off fine
little lad" he said gayly. I'm moi
quite suited with this hermit life, upoI
my word I'm not. Suppose we try
doubling up for time? When yo,
grow tired. you can say so. you know.
"No, Mister" the boy contradictet
/ eagerly. II never grow tired. lov,
J to stay always!'
/ "Stay, then" said Haswell.