The St. Charles herald. [volume] (Hahnville, La.) 1873-1993, 1917-01-13
Deserves more brays than praise, the

, thou art come,
: My dagger-points of wrath do mel
away
Before thy genial smile as icicIes
Might oOZe to nOthingness at summer
noon.
That other flask, you dog and have 9
care
Thou handle it more gently than the
| first,
Lest /, as thou didst it, thy noodle
burst"
Although expecting something after
the Shakespearean school, was not
prepared for this, and in reading it
aloud actually found myself endeav-
Oring to initiate the stage manner of
Hackett, whom years ago had seen in
king Henry ~" at the old Metro
politan, Indianapolis. "Ah" said the
old man, "you are more familiar with
that, see. Tell me, have you ever
seen those lines in Shakespeare"
| There was such look of conscious
| triumph in his face, so self-satisfied an
| expression, that although half be-
lieving was in some way being duped
could but reply that i was most thor
| oughly convinced the lines did not oc-
| cur ia any of the works of that great
master.
'AThey do not" said the old man
briefly.
'But how" said /, "is it possible for
you to initiate his style so perfectly,
not only in language, but theme, ex-
preston, force, character, grotesque-
ness"
stop, my son; stop!" he broke in.
Must again remind you that it is
not imitation: take no credit to my
self-how dare I, when in writing thus
my individual mind is gone, simple
chaotic? 1t is not imitation; it is
Shakespeare
l could venture no further comment
without fear Of offending, and he al
ready stood as though hesitating to
depart.
Stay, then" said ], until I see a
further exercise of this marvellous pow
er you possess. Here, sit down, rest
while; you seem almost exhausted"
Il am nearly So" he replied, "but
there is no rest for me until this in
fluence is entirely subsidized. No rest
for me yet; no rest no rest!"
He was again pacing his old walk,
now like a weary sentinel, and I |
thought as gazed upon him, "What |
riddle of the human kind is this?" |
over and over again came the ques-
ton; and over and over an old rhyme |
had somewhere read, mockingly re-
sponded-
Rain, rain, and sun! q rainbow in the
sky!
A young man will be wiser by and by;
An old mans wit may wander ere he
die"
And lulled by the mild monotony of
his, was fast drifting into a dreamy
rain OF thought, when the old man
lalted suddenly, and with one elbow
Gaming on the counter and his head
esting on his hand, he began humming
tune-a strangely sweet and tender
lir; low, and just little harsh at first
nd indistinct, but yelling softly into
adence wonderfully rich and pure;
hen quavering again in minor swoons
f melody so delicately beautiful can
ut liken the effect produced to that
thereal mystery Of sound unraveled
rom the zithern by a master hand d
A slender thread of song in saddest
tune"
l had leaned forward with my own
cad resting In my hand, that l might
stem the better, and was not aware
ntil the song abruptly ended, that the
Id man had been writing as he sang.
There" said he, handing me the I
crap, "you have heard the tune: here l
re the words, perhaps" l.
It may have been a very foolish
hing, 1t may have been. weak and q
omanish, yet as my eyes, bent over it 7
I'd read. the lines grew curiously a
lurred toward the last; nor did I
ness the cause until O. tear-a great b
pc tear-drop-fell upon, my hand. '
nd, reader; could present the song
you just as It came 10, me, with all u
le strange surronndings-the stranger
lperienoe OF the hour; the solemn ST. :,
nee or the group: the wailing of the .
ind outside as thengh the world
cary of itself, could only sigh, sigh. :.
gh could prelude 1t with that low IL
Veet murmuring Of melody that
'unts me even now, your own ewes k
'eds' mast raoisten as you read: h
The Harp OF the Minstrel, a.
he harp Of the minstrel has nevar a -
tone
As sad as the song in his bosom, to-
night, %
" the magical touch Of his fingers y
alone ~
Cannot waken the echoes thar
breathe 1t Alright; ea
1t oh as the smile of the moon NAV OF
impart al
A sorrow to one in an alien CLINE ID
t the light Of the melody fall on Tho d
heart, nc
And cadence his grief into music !,
rhyme. he