Smyrna times., 1923-01-10
SILVIA DREAMS
BY AGNES GRAHAM BRoGAN

The violin stood IN corner OF the
shed where shabby sweaters and faded
hats of men who worked, hung, near
by. This outer kitchen was a place
where Silvia pared potatoes in sum-
mer time-and dreamed her dreams.
Silvia was not a child; stored in her
quiet head were wise philosophers and
happy beliefs. These beliefs she Ia
tended by faith and effort to bring
true. But the summer bOarders who
flOcked yearly to Mrs. Haskins' CHEEKY |
home were unaware of Silvia's wis |
dom; her dreams had long been
source of general amusement. Mrs. |
Haskins, good natured and indulgent |
loved to enlarge upon Silvia's visions. |
"She sure is an odd piece" Mrs. |
Haskins would say, land has been,
ever since took her out of the orphan
age, six years ago. She was fourteen
then, and land knows why l fancicd
that she'd be a help to me, but | did.
And Silvia is a great help with all
her notions; that's the strange part.
They called her Ann, there, for want
of a true name, but as soon as Miss
Ann comes here she looks at me de-
cided, out of her big black eyes and
says: From now on, Mrs. Haskins, l
am Silvia. l always did want pretty
name, and l guess I've as good right
to choose it as the asylum. Silvia is
the kind of name my mother would
have chosen"
What" asked a bOarder, did the
child know of her motherY "NOth-
ing" Mrs. Haskihs replied, "eXcept
what they told us at the institution.
Silvia had been rescued when baby
from deserted tenement room, where
her young dead father lay with his
cold hand ON her tiny warm body.
SilviaS mother had died In the same
room at the child's birth. The two
young people had come there just be-
fore, aed no one knew thing about
them-except, that the man played
violin.
Then" asked a sympathetic young
woman, that is her fathers violin,
which Silvia keeps in the shed?"
"Bless you no." laughed Mrs. Has
kins. "her fathers violin was taken
| for debt. The one Silvia has, was a
premium offered by a grocery concern.
do you think" asked the interest
ed young woman, that Silvia would
| play for us? After the dinner dishes
are out of the way, l meanY Il am
sure" responded the smiling hostess,
that she would not. Silvia goes far
into the wood to play her music"
"She is then a queer little thing"
agreed the guest.
Tears filled the elder wOman's eyes.
And dear little thing, tOo," she said.
Silvia slipped down from the stool
where she had been polishing kitchen
faucets. then from beneath a farm
workers hanging green sweater. she
drew her violin; and far in the wood
where. shadows were deepest, she
raised it lovingly to her chin.
A man in a cabin flung his book
quickly aside, and Fastening through
the doorway came nOiselessly toward
the player. Close to her he halted
his eyes filled with wonder; breath
lessly he listened. And then, as the
last bird note echoed and echoed still
again softly across the strings of Sill
Was violin, the man faced her. She
gazed startled. 81 thought no one
was near" she reprOved him. "Ar'
you so selfish with your music?" HI
asked.
The dark eyes were suddenly alight
rs it then. music?" she asked eager
ly, "real-music? And do you under
stand?"
The man sat down beside her.
'I understand music so WELL" he re
piled. that 1 am out here in th'
woods nursing the disappointment o
failure. For you see-I realize tina
all the skill l have will not compen
safe for lack Of-genius. Your mu
sic is genius"
Silvia looked down at him sorrow
fully.
without SKILL" she said.
"See here" asked the man sharply
"who are you, where do you com
from? l have kept hidden in m
shack for days, fearing that my pres
ence might startle you away; yet you
playing played upon my heart string
because it is such as 1 had hoped
create. Tell me-about yourselfT
SO Silvia told him. He listened q
others had not listened to her dream
ing; understanding, believing.
"You are right" he said at las
"your father has bequeathed his gil
to you. What are you going to
with it?"
"This," cried Silvia, and rose to he
feet.
"This is the song that my fathe
. would have played when death calle
, him."
Z Over the tree tops the enchante
melody rippled. Against the girl
round chin the violin sang wondrou
ly of life, of Joy, of sorrow. An