The Virginia enterprise. [volume] (Virginia, St. Louis County, Minn.) 1893-19??, 1903-11-06

and he says, You'd better look
amongst his things for his money,
In the meantime, use this, !. giving me
q sovereign. One Of the sother dodgers
sat with you while I runsfor the medi-
cine, an afterward Wewent through
your things together 5 $50:
Ten pounds there was in two i've
pound notes, an Is shillings In silver;
Il jist got the, gentl eman to sign his
name to It's being all right, which,
thank heaven, he's here an can prove,
an in. courseI took out the three
pounds owing for rent. an paid the
doctor back his sovereign, an used the
rest as it was wanted What's left's in
that there box on, the table, an another
weeks rent due Tomorrow, :.
She was hard, but honest. There
was still remnant of gold among
the silver enough to last, please
heaven, until he was strong enough to
crawl out again, with the hope of earn
ing precarious living: - ~ r
Where the money had come from
goodness alone knew! A purse of
gold, where not one copper piece had
been! ~.
AS Colin lay back on his lodging
house pillow (hard and rather grimy).
unshed tears burned his eyeballs as
he thought of that doctor, who, see
ing at glance that he was dying from
sheer starvation, had not hesitated to
give the 1.-TWO pence" of the Good
Samaritan. -.
"The mere money I may repay some
day." he thought; 'but the action
never! Whether one pound or so at
the last day, it will speak-it will have
a thousand voices. God will hear
them"
AS soon as he could crawl he
dragged himself to the piano. If even
now he could only be in time-time to
win that grand prize offered by the
conservative at Florence for the best
setting OF song to words supplied by
them--e $50 English money, with the
situation Of harmony master at a
large salary to, perhaps, the cleverest
group of students the world had ever
seen.
There was an exquisite but madden
Ing elusive melody in his brain-an
angel song; but his head was weak
from illness, and it was evidently
doomed to remain one of those untold
dream witcheries which thrall most
soul musicians at times. and draw
away their thoughts to cloudland. He
could not hum 1T, could not find its
beginning or end, though he tried each
note in the gamut; but he felt it, he
had dreamed it; some day-too late,
perhaps, to make use of in this world
it would come to him in it's full, glori-
GUS beauty.
Song after song, tune after tune, he
painfully evolved, only to throw them
aside with cry Of despair when fin
ished.
Mechanical, wooden! Correct har-
mony?z Yes. but oh, We gods, how COM
monplace, how evenly on the dead
level! and only "a hours left before
the MS. must be posted. I am like a
drowning man who sees the life belt
hanging just out Of his reach. The
prize, the position, the melody and my
utter inability to grasp it. What is
that?" springing to his feet and al
most ceastng to breathe as certain
notes, hating, faulty, but still glori-
ously beautifully, reached his ear.
"Who is that? What is that" A
long pause, then he said deliberately,
resolutely though his face was white
as snow, THAT is the music that shall
win the prize! 1t is mine, not his! l
dreamed it. I can write it into some
thing that will electrify the world; my
harmonies shall be transcendently
beautiful, his are hopelessly faulty;
the melody is worthless to him, to me
it is salvation for soul and body"
The notes were played through again
slowly, tenderly, with wrong chords,
with right chords, with one finger only,
a rich deep voice hummed them, q
girls clear soprano corrected the man
to curious minor resolution that
Collins soul had already leaped to-
they-these unknown two-had given
him the clew to his dream melody;
theirs was Of the earth earthly; he
would turn it into something that was
worthy even of Heaven itself.
Down he sat and set feverishly to
work and the melody fitted the words,
as glove the hand:
Hail, victor! in the generous strife,
This is the golden hour of life:
The struggle and the task are done,
The guerdon and the chaplet won.
Thine is the fadeless olive crown,
Blazon and badge of bright renown:
For thee the poets Tyre Is strung,
For thee the song Of triumph won
He wrote on, and on, and on! Night
passed into day, and day nearly into
night again before it was finished, and
he managed to stagger out and post it
himself; then he tainted, and Mrs. Will
cox told him he must leave her house
at the end of the week. She couldn't
abide invalids, besides which she had
a chance of letting her rooms for al
most double the money; but her first