The St. Charles herald. [volume] (Hahnville, La.) 1873-1993, 1917-01-13
Strive ever In vain for the

! tear.
For the harp of the minstrel h&S =
| q tone
As sad as the song in his BOSOM
night,
And the magical touch of his fingers
| alone
Cannot waken the echoes that
breathe it Alright.
had read the lines over to myself,
and although recognizing many touches
decidedly like. those of the famous au-
thor of "Lalla Rookh," was not Who'll
ly satisfied with the production; and it
struck me with peculiar force that an
ethereal composition would surely not
be so lavishly tinctured with unutter-
able sorrow-aside from being far in
ferior to a hundred earthly songs Of
MoOre's. So, with this argument for
my weapon, determined to conquer
the superstition that had almost over
powered me. / had noticed, too, in
both former instances singular fact:
The old man, though so ready to fend
off all comment that might reflect a
single ray of praise upon himself, lis
tened with more of the air of critic
than one whose interest was merely
that of curiosity, and still when the
fragmentary productions were read
aloud, a look of more than ordinary
satisfaction would tighten up his eyes.
The facts, hastily reviewed, deter-
mined me upon course of action had
instant opportunity to adopt.
Read it aloud" said the old man,
"read it aloud!"
I complied with more than usual
reading verbatim from the
copy, until 1 came to the repetition Of
the first four lines, which / thus trans.
posed, or, rather, paraphrased.
''The harp of the minstrel has never
a note
AS sad as the song in his bosom ex-
pressed,
And the magical touch of his fingers
afioat
Drifts over the echoes that sleep in
the breast
This l was careful to deliver without
emphasis or mark of any kind by which
he mi ght discover any imposition G.
ny part. AS closed ! stole I
glance at his face, and wadRNsh III
% find it wearing Father st u e. 7
PRESTON: not only did his features be,&
ray puzzled and questioning air, but
lis hand was mechanically extended.
IS though reaching for the paper in
ny own.
do you want to see it?" I asked
uddenly. handing him the scrap.
Yes, I-Oh, no-no," he broke in.
Popping his hand, and his face col.
red wildly. But turning again as
uickly, he added: eyes, give it to me.
Where are the others? I must be GO
lg."
"Why must you go?" I asked, still
claiming the scrap; 81 had hoped"
Il am going!' he interrupted brusk-
= snatching up the scraps that lay
pom the counter, and reaching for the
ne l still held. "Give me the poem. +
ill trouble you no longer"
"Allow me to retain it, beg of you,"
aid l, with significant smile, and the
ightest tinge of sarcasm in nv voice.
Let me keep 1t as BETTING memen,
OF the inspiration I have seen so,
otently exercised"
His face was pale with anger as, he.
,plied:
Il will not. When you want rhyme.
rite 1t yourself. You can at least
rite doggerel."
"Very neat"' said I, laughing. eve
1derstand each other, so let's be
lends. Here is my hand and a dol.
{ besides. Give me the other scraps.
1 want them ALL"
l took them from him as he clutched
the DILL. which he smothered In his.
Inn, and then turned. away without
word.
Here, Charley" called one of the
saunders, half Of that's enough for
u tonight"
The door slammed violently and he
Is gone..
I'D Cain will have that dollar I'm
SC nve minutes" continued the man.
And WHO'S Old Cain2' asked.
Keeps the doggery just over the
e."
'Old Charley" N Ii q vesl..~n
own, character In Unioa Cfty-a
me-, In fact, although he often
pears for long periods, but, as II
ormant remarked, always turnsS
AIN like a bad penny"
HIS story Of his early life is at II
'ea upon the truth. but now so III
eoaorec 1t Is decidadly tdid p
'ter TO detect thst place =
n,s ahanyo he W dE spe
! so svS arepsd;
5: !: ;;;p>';Aili
ispng = many accomplishments
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