Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1904-07-22

mere was no question OF the energy
displayed in Macpherson's performance,
but the grace left something 10 he de
sired.
l was on the verge " explaining this
10 hlIa when Metcalf said, That's the
most Internal piece of music | have
ever heapi. and, Furthermore. you are
all WRONG
To this day fail 10 see what saved
his life. II seemed as though a child
Of mine had been murdered before my
eyes. Williams and Macpherson both
covered him instantly.
You mean you're a liar said VII
liams hOtly.
Go on: say you're liar" echoed
Macpherson, nervously lingering the
trigger.
IF you care TO listen 10 me- answer
ed MetcaIf with an Indifferent wave
of his hand and shrug that spoke
volumes for his character, III prove 1t
the truth"
Lets give him a chance" broke
in. impelled as much 10y the anxiety To
discover what he meant as the desire
TO avoid blood.
Without another word Metcalf went
10 his saddebag and drew forth a sort of
flute, which he screwed together.
This is where 1t tripped you by the
heels" he said, nodding to Macpherson
/ f.,.Neu of hRr-
| sons ridiculous squeaks. This Is how
It goes" And he played like an angel.
That's the chorus. Now the woman
| comes on. She's a contralto." And again
the superb sounds that were match for
| the morning filled our ears hint OF
the futility of life came as he reached the
cadence. My throat was full. was
tempted to speak, to cry aloud, When
tenor note rang out clear and strong
transporting us to a truer. better world
He played this part twice over and finish
ed with a dying fall that was as sweet as
sleep after nights of pain
Perhaps IL was minute, perhaps II was
an hour, before any one spoke. Time aIc
space were eliminated from our conscious
ness Juan. the Mexican, a CLINT of rever'
ence in his eye had edged close to the
player. Macpherson sighed and turned
away Even Williams. the bullet head OF
the outfit, was visibly affected.
Gentlemen" said Metcalf, calmly un
screwing the inspired instrument and
stutfing 1t into his saddlebag, that prove.
one-half of my contention; the other hal
can be as easily proved"
Macpherson plucked nervously at hi!
tuft of beard and In his blunt homes
fashion said, II thought that was my
own tune"
81 thought II was mine" remarked WI
liams, and there was I'm the sliding intlec
ton of the last word the suggestion of {
man always sure of himself discovering
hole in his armor.
81 had dreams of developing into grea
composer on the strength of IT" l con
fesscd, and, try as | might | coufd~no
repr,ss a sigh. Juan echoed the sigh ant
turned quietly away.
| Mctcalf seemed to be oblivious of hi
triumph. The indifference that was in hi
eyes when he looked down the muzzles o
the revolvers still fingered You are al
wrong" he finally began. "A man o
whom you know nothing wrote 1t. Their
was a time when the music stood well II
the worlds opinion. About the beginning
OF It's vogue l came in contact with 1t, t
my grievous injury.
"Of course there was woman" h
went on after slight pause. There al
ways is. But she was such a woman a
only poets know in their dreams. An
by every right that springs from years q
unflagging devotion and unselfsh low
she was mine.
'Then he came. the composer. with a
his old world charm and his old worl
knowledge of the human heart. In some
thing less than month from the day
introduced him to her l learned that a
my unhagging devotion and unselfsh lov
could not tip the beam against the leas
of his smiles. This knowledge came dun
ing the performance of the music 20
claim individually and collectively as you
own. AS they sang l watched them BIZ
why go on? The music was composed fo
her, The mans soul was in 1t.
THAT was ten years ago. Occasional
e the desire takes possession of me to lear
II she still lives, If she is happy-wt
!, him. and l move in the track of mel
Yesterday she seemed to draw me dow
! that way" And he waved his hand tC
ward the crowded east. We were hardl
conscious that he had finished. His voic
had fallen to whisper.
l over us the sky hung fiery red. Tt
n desert wore strange, pathetic look. tn