The daily telegram. [volume] (Clarksburg, W. Va.) 1901-1926, 1907-03-01
Won BY Violin.
BY EPES ". SARGENT.
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Copyright, 1905 By P. c. Eastmsnt.
By EPEs ". SARGENT.

same intolerable feeling of disgust that
always filed his soul when 1t came
time to take his place beside the leader
Of the odeon orchestra.
He hated 1t all, the endless process
sion of sidewalk comedians, serio com,
les, sketch artists, trained dogs and all
the other component parts OF the
vaudeville show.
He had come to America fresh from
the conservatory, with visions of a
concert tournee that should make him
famous. They told him that America
was land Of money; that there peo-
pie sat up nights for an opportunity to
hear some great artist.
Instead, he had discovered that, only
those heralded by skillful promoter
stood any chance. BE was glad to get
an occasional engagement for some
small concerts, and even these grew
less and less frequent as the season
waned.
Then had come that awful time
when, penniless and hungry. he faced
the realization that he could never hope
for success. He was too proud to go
back home failure, and he thankfully
accepted an opening in a concert hall,
where he, pianist and cornet player
comprised the orchestra.
Benson had found him there one
night when he dropped in to see the
proprietor. Benson had played violin
there himself before he had become
bandmaster, with blue and gold band
at summer resort, and he dropped in
at intervals for old times sake.
BE called Award over to his table and
offered him place in his orchestra in
the fan, when the season opened, so
ever since September Award had sat
beside Benson playing first violin He
ioathed it all, but 1t was better than
the concert hall, ana he was grateful.
But this afternoon he was gloomy.
A great artist, one with whom he had
studied, was giving a matinee, and
some one had told him how the people
were thronging to the hall. Their
master had declared Award to be the
better, yet Herman drew the crowds.
Monday was always bad day. The
music sheets, some of them yellow
with age and filthy with dirt, were
hard to read. Rehearsal had been
more or less of a farce, and he scarcely
noticed the performance. Then sud
denly a voice broke on his ears, and
he looked up in wonder.
A mere girl stood in the CLEAN OF the
spot light. She could not be more than
sixteen or seventeen, but from her
throat there poured tones of crystal
purity. The voice was unplaced and
unschooled, but she had a natural gift
for singing, and her tones had not vet
become hardened through overwork.
The music thrilled him through and
through and once or twice he broke in
his accompaniment. Long after she
left the stage she still occupied his
thoughts, and as he started to leave
the theater after the matinee she con-.
fronted him at the top OF the stairs.
What did you crab my act forT' she
demanded,
Il am sorry, mademoiselle," he said,
with humility. But such a voice-in
vaudeville. The surprise was too
great. l faltered."
1T looked as If you were scared" she
agreed, Modified at the compliment.
"But don't you do it again"
Il protest that l shall offend no
more he assured. and she turned to
the elderly woman who hovered.in the
background
Come on, ma" she called. He
didn't do 1t a-purpose. knocked him
of his pins; that's all. Come on"
She passed out of the stage door, and
Award followed slowly. Into his life
love had come. He could forgive the
uncouth speech for the sake Of the
voice, and Gertie Clayton. ''phenom-
inal'' (she invariably misspelled the
world soprano had become a goddess
to him.
All that week he drank in the flute.
like tones, as drunkard imbibes his
Triple. Saturday night, when the en-
gagement closed, he left single rose.
perfect in its loveliness, with the door
keeper, to be given her as she left.
She was gone when the show was
over, and he hurried to the doorkeeper
for his report.
what did mademoiselle say?" he de
handed eagerly.
Stingy,' " grinned the unsympathet-
10 soul. and Award slowly passed out.
But the slight was forgotten the next
day, aad only the memory Of that per
feet voice remained. From the press
agent he begged one of her photo
graphs, and when he came home at
night tired and disheartened, he looked
upon her youthful face and seemed to
hear again the liquid sweetness Of her
singing.
It was several months before she
came again. Award feared that per
haps the hard work, the singing in
smoke filed music halls, had spoiled
her tones, but she did not strain for
high notes, and her voice retained its
clarity and freshness.
It seemed an interminable time after