St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1904-12-10


lie always did, and in crossing the
street his foot slipped He fell. and the
wheels of dray passed over his left
one as he lay PROSTATE on the pave
ment. In the drugstore where they
carried him the doctor, looking first
at Carl and then at me (for my case
had burst open), cried out suddenly
in a voice that shook with emotion,
"Mein Colt! it is the little violinist
OF the Odeon, Carl Schilling. The poor
boy, he will never play again!"
Except for the injury to his arm,
Carl was not hurt, and although the
surgeons did not cut it off, as they
at first declared must be done, yet in
spite of all their electrical appliances
it hung limp at his side, and the ia
nous specialist the Herr Director OF
the Odeon brought from Berlin only
shook mis- gray beard and muttered
"incurable' when he examined it.
Things got pretty bad for us in the
little home, for Carl could Go no work
of any sort with his useless arm. The
pupils dropped away one by one, and
soon, very soon, our small savings
were all eaten up. Carl was far too
proud to allow any of his friends to
help him, and indeed they were all
poor enough themselves, having ali
they could do to manage to fight their
own battles; but then, think he con-
cealed the real state of affairs SO well
that nobody but me realized how very
bad they were. There was not always
food, and to make matters worse, Elsa
became sharp and drawn. Wine and
other nourishing things were out of
the question, and at last Carl, tor
tured by seeing his wife fading be-
fore his very eyes, declared he was
going to sell me; but Elsa begged him
to wait. ''The good God will not for
sake us, my husband" she said, brave
ly. HE is trying our faith in him.
Trust him just a little while longer,
my Carl; surely he does not mean for
you to part with either of your sweet
hearts, for he is not cruel"
but the next night the end came, and
the greatest sorrow have ever known
overwhelmed me. l heard Carts step
on the stair-lagging now, and not
quick and bounding as of old, and no
merry whistle on his lips. He came
into the quiet room, and all at once
there burst from his lips such aecry of
anguish and bitter despair that all my
strings shivered in dread and terror.
I heard him calling to Elsa like a
madman to speak, to look at him, to
answer, or he should die.
Presently land words cannot tell you
what a relief it was to mel heard her
dear voice. Very faint and weak It
was-so low it was impossible for me
to understand the words-but I knew
Carl was sobbing, and accusing him
self of being selfish and heartless, and
after little while he rushed to the
door and called Frau Weller, the land
lady; then he snatched me up, and out
into the street we went.
Well, the rest is soon told. Carl sold
rich, but not a musician at all, for
which l was thankful in a dull sort of
way; for although I was willing and
glad to help Carl, my heart was dead
within me at parting from him, and I
could no more have sung under an
other mans touch than miserable
two-forin imitation of myself can in
terpret Handels Largo.
Carl laid his chin on me to say
good-by, and / tried my best to COM
fort and tell him that / understood
and not to mind me-that loved him
and was proud to help him-and
think he knew, for when he lifted his
face two great tears were glistening
on my brown body. My new owner
carried me to Munich and placed me in
the museum. There stayed for many
weary years, as said at first, mute and
voiceless, wishing l might crumble to
dust and be done with it all-the mem
cries.
One day-Gott in Himmel, what
day!-I dreamed saw Elsa's ghost.
She came and stood in front of my case
for long time, and looked at me-not
as had seen her last, pale and thin,
with an awful look in her eyes, but
young and fresh and fair, as she had
looked the day Carl first saw her,
standing under the linden trees.
It was on rainy afternoon the
vision came to me. The museum was
deserted, and was running over in
my mind a solo in the first violin part
Of the Messiah, For Unto Us Child
is Born" pretending to browse to es-
cape the senile whimperings of the old
Amati. All at once she was standing
sQuarely in front Of me.
OF course, l realized after the first
shock that it was not a dream, and
that the girl was flesh and blood, and
not my Elsa at all it had been Is
years and more since I had left her
dying in the little home. She was as
like her, though, as one could well i'm
agine two people to be alike-the
same eyes and shiny hair, and look
that reminded me Of Carl, too, and sent
a great wave Of homesickness and
longing all over me.
What q grand old VIOLIN" she said,
softly, to herself; "a real Stradivarius,
too" She walked up to the glass,
and continued, shaking her finger at
me, How are you, old Mr.. Stradivar-
ius? You look awfully proud and
stiff and naughty, hanging there all