The daily silver state. [volume] (Winnemucca, Nev.) 1903-1907, 1903-08-25


Goskin.
This is Christmas eve" was the re-
ply.
The stranger was startled.
December twenty-fourth. sure
enough.
That's the way l put it up, pard-"
when | was in England | always
kept Christmas. But I had forgotten
that this was the night. I've been
wandering about in the mountains
so long I've lost track of the feasts Of
the church"
Presently his y fell upon the pi-
ano.
Where's the p'ayer?" he asked.
Never had any" said Goskin,
blushing at the expression.
Il used to play when when l was
young"
Goskin almost tainted at the admis-
sion,
Stranger. do tackle it, and give Us
a tunel Nary mar in this camp ever
had the nerve to wrestle with that
musuc-box." His pulse was faster, for
he feared that the man would re-
fuse.
"Ill do the best l can" he said.
There was no stool, but seizing a
candle-box he drew it up and seated
himself before the instrument. 1t only
required a few seconds for a hush to
come over the room.
THAT old coon is going to give the
thing q rattle"
The sight of a man at the piano was
something so unusal that even the
f~aro-dealer, who was about to take in
a fifty-dollar bet on the tray, paused
and did not reach for the money. Men
stopped drinking, with the glasses at
their lips. Conversation appea ed to
have been struck with a sort of paral-
ysis, and cards were no longer shut
fed.
The old man brushed back his long.
white locks, looked up to the ceiling.
half closed his eyes, and in a mystic
sort of reverie passed his fingers over
the keys. He touched but a single
note, yet the sound thrilled the room.
II was the key to his improvisation.
and as he wove his chords together
the music laid its spell upon every ear
and heart. He felt his way along the
tHcuo lilo q mon fraodinU t1nanrt lin
paths; but he gained confidence as he
progressed, and presently bent to his
work like a master. The instrument
was not in exact tune, but the ears of
his audience, through long disuse, did
not detect anything radically wrong.
They heard a succession of grand
chords, a suggestion of paradise, mel
odies here and there, and it was
enough.
See him counter with his left"
said an Old rough, enraptuTed.
He calls the turn every time on the
upper end of the board" responded a
man with a stack of chips in his hand.
The player wandered off into the old
ballads they had heard at home. All
the sad and melancholy, and touching
songs that came up like dreams of
childhood, this unknown player drew
from the keys. His hands kneaded
their hearts like dough and squeezed
out the tears as from a wet sponge.
AS the strains flowed one upon tie
other, they saw their homes of the
long ago reared again; they were
playing once more where the apple
blossoms sank through the soft air
to join the violets on the green turf
of the old New England states; they
saw the glories of the Wisconsin ma
pies and the haze of the Indian sum-
mer, blending their hues together;
the white cliffs of Britain. and heard
the sullen roar of the sea, as it beat
upon the memories vaguely. Then
came all the old Christmas carols,
such as they had sung in church
thirty years before; the subtle music
that brings up the glimmer Of wax
tapers, the solemn shTines, the ever
81 Gems, the holly, mistletoe, and sur
pliced choirs. Then the remorseless
performer planted the final stab in ev-
cry heart with Home, Sweet Home
When the player ceased, the crowd
SUNK away from him. There was nc
more revelry and devilment left in
his audience. Each man wanted TO
sneak off to his cabin and write the
old folks a letter. The day was break
ing as the last man left the place, and
the player, laying his head down on
the piano. fell asleep.
Il say, pard," said Goskin, "don't
you want a little rest?"
Il feel tired" the old man said
Perhaps you'll let me rest here fol
, the matter Of a day or So"
He walked behind the bar where
za-oo oId hIorlate roro Iv;nr 49,