The Savannah morning news., 1903-03-08

His first concert was to be in Boston.
1t would be untruthful to say that
no thought of Florence Hawtrey came
to Henrys mind as he went to Boston,
for he was steadfast young man and
not given to forgetting pleasant
things l believe that it would be in
accurate to say that he had continued
to madly love her and wish to whis-
per darling passionately in her ears.
He certainly had not fallen in love
with any one else and as he sat in the
Boston bound train it occurred to him
that she lived near there. He wonder
ed with quite little glow if she would
go to hear him play.
OF the successor the most sensa-
tional success of the young violinist-
there was no doubt after the first
number, and as he was a very human
young Violinist he felt good about it,
As have said, he was also practical
and with the warm feeling of COM
plete success glowing in him as he sat
behind the screen, he forgot that Flor
ence Hawtrey lived near Boston and
might be there.
But when he went out again one of
those strange gaslight tricks which
happen in theaters and halls, and which
have puzzled more than one performer,
occurred. Florence Hawtrey's face
glowed in a very circle of gaslight as
he walked, bowling, toward the foot
lights and instantly there was nothing
else in the hall except her face about
three rows from the front. His eyes
gazed into it's eyes and it was with
real effort that he pulled them away
Instantly he was very much in love
again.
1t was the last of his numbers and he
really played magnificently He knew
what it meant to carry an audience
away" he knew how an audience act
ed while this strange and delightful
thing was beginning to happen to it,
And, although there was not a sound
aside from his violin-not. even muf-
fed cough-in the great hall (perhaps 1t
was because there was not a sound) he
knew that he was doing it, and he play
ed we'll
The sound came though, as he stop
ped. He had played wild, minor song
of the Magyars-the chant that is
heard when death goes to the noun
tains of Hungary. With the last
mournful signing of it's soft, dying wall,
the storm of applause broke over him.
1t actually seemed to come out of the
auditorium like a cold tempest blast
and strike him in the face. He was
warm and he was grateful; he was
vain as an artist has a right to be and
1t was wine to him. He bowed again
and again, and finally almost with sur
prise, found himself in his little chair
behind his little screen. = Beyond IL
there was still that roar: hands were
clapping feet were stamping on the
floor they were shouts of bravo" in
mems voices and shriller cries which he
knew came from excited women.
An usher appeared behind the screen
and handed him a card
Lady sent it, SIR he said. ''Said
she knew you or 1 wouldn't have
brought it,"
Herbert turned it over and over in
his hand
But it was not until he felt his man.
ayers hand clapping him heartily on
the shoulder and his voice congratulate
ing him that he reused himself suffi-
GENTLY to really read it 1t was her
card. And on it was written trem-
blingly:
won't you please play Hanka
Doodlum' for me?"
He went out slowly and was greeted
by another storm. And then he play
ed. He says he does not think he
played it as he wrote it, but they knew
those Boston folk. They marched
with the farmer soldiers to the bridge
and fired their shots with them and
won their victory with them and
laughed and thrilled joyfully when
with them they saw the red coats
run. And they after the fighting
was over, and the weeping of the
mothers and sisters and sweethearts
over patriots slain had passed, and
the men went marching home again
victorious, they marched with them
bringing their feet down on the old
Temples floor until the building shook
with the force of it-March! March!
March,
A thousand men were whistling
yankee Doodle" that night In Boston
as the Temple crowd poured into Ire
mont street.
When Herbert, tired. but very glad.
slipped his coat around him and start
ed 10 go out himself. he found her
waiting for him az the bottom OF those
wretehed stairs that lead down from
the stage