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

~ blowing hard enough to raise
~ freckles ON an Indian. The
alkali laden sand scurried
over the desert, binding us and our
ponies and enveloping old landmarks
in a cloud. Toward shutdown 1t eascd
up little, and when we had finished
our dry tea only an occasional pun
came to remind us of the days dis
comfort.
When a lull came in the conversation
| arose and sauntered beyond earshot
of the camp. Juan, the Mexican
seemed to have been waiting for
break in the circle and started in the
opposite direction. CHANGING over my
shouldorI saw Metcalf standing alone,
throwing an armfu of brush on the
being old cronies and bit exclusive in
their tipple when towns were far
apart, had gone off, l thought, to fin
ish the Randsburg bottle
| was dimly conscious of something
strange about the whole proceeding.
On the desert men never wander away
from camp, especially when a stranger
Is left on guard. This Metcalf-here
anything that was dim and uncertain
in ny consciousness gave way to a
clearly defined image-this Metcalf had
been picked up at the Needles, and in
the prospectors' way. we asked no
questions. None of us knew him. Sup
pose. | thought, he should put his heel
on that dancing bit of flame? Sup
pose he should pack everything of val,
ne on the ponies and make a bee line
for civilization?
| hesitated between two impulses.
The camp needed me. but since early
morning | had waited impatiently for
this hour. | wanted to be alone.
wanted to sing.
Something other than the sense per.
suaded me the music breaking for ut
terance was of high order. Having
only an Indifferent memory for sweet
sound, and, | must confess, a taste
that might be termed popular was
carried Off my feet as much by the
recognition of its merit as by its con-
tinual recurrence. But, strange as it
might seem, despite the continual re
currence when | was surrounded by
distractions. at the very moment | had
an opportunity to do more than listen
i'll dumb ecstasy, try as l might, could
not recall single note. Laying the
DIame on my anxiety over the possible
loss of our traps, | allowed the other
impulse to get the upper hand and re
turned to camp.
Metcalf was lying on his back, smok
ing. There was no greeting. He did
not even turn his head. About his in
difference, which was extraordinary, |
cared nothing, for just as l got within
six feet of him the tantalizing air
came again full born into my brain.
l wondered at my grasp of such a
masterpiece. My conception was COM
plete to the final note, and, though l
had never taken q lesson in music,
knew--felt, rather-wherein it conform
ed to the highest standards Of the art.
followed the futelike tones that
were ringing in my ear, and, finally
obeying something stronger than my
will, I threw back my head and,
shaping my mouth as l had seen the
fellows of the glee club at the universe
ty shape theirs, sang.
Metcalf's groaning brought me to a
realization of the absurd figure | cut
standing in the center of the camp
beating time with a wisp of sage and
| singing to the moon as though my life
depended on it. Hastily throwing
some scrub on the fire, l set off will
the determination Of reaching the tina
cadence without interruption If walk
ed to the other side of the desert.
When beyond Metcalf's hearing
stopped and gathered myself together
| The discovery of talent is something
to be well considered. Perhaps my abil
lty as composer would rank me above
mediocrity. 1t would be impossible t.
conceive of one musical theme exhaust
ing my originality; rather might 1t be
expected to aid development in that di
rection.
Throwing back my head l formed my
lips to sing, and not a note came forth
All my mental turnings and twsting'
We're of no avail; not Suggestion OF
the melody that was to open up a no
BILE career for me came to the fore
ground of consciousness. My castle.
were ruins.
The reaction caused by my failur,
brought a feeling akin to disgust
Waiting, dull and inert, not caring i
the elusive air ever returned, my ca
} caught the faint echo of whistling Of