Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1930-05-16
DREAM RUG
THAT MADE
DREAMS
COME TRUE
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(9 by D. J. walsh.)

(9 BY D. J. Walsh.)
LID NICHOLAS, as he was
4 known in that portion of a
~ great mid-western city where
lives its foreign citizenry,
raised his thin shoulders from over
the loom. A short winter day had
drawn to a close and the pale hight
from the single bulb spread a murky
shadow over the rug on which he was
working.
rugs of Dreams" he said whimsi-
cally as he carefully spread piece Of
canvas over the loom. "Dreams Of
the fatherland the old farm
on the hillside little Ilenea
coming down the lane with the cows
at sunset singing, always
singing"
He poked the Goals in the small
stove and the kettle began to hum
merrily. From the cupboard he took
a half loaf Of bread. thickly crusted,
bowl Of cold potatoes and some
dried herring and a wooden plate Of
picked peppers such as Katrine used
to prepare before he came to the land
Of promise. Then there was hot tea,
strong and bitter, and over his frugal
meal old Nicholas nodded and
dreamed.
It was twelve years since he came
to this melting pot . twelve
years since he had babe good-by to
buxom Katrine with her round, rosy
face encircled with q vivid kerchief
twelve years since Ilenea had
sung to him all the homely folk songs.
For twelve years he had lived in
this barren room In an old building,
making a living at weaving rugs.
There were two looms and on the one
he had just covered was his rug Of
dreams with its delicately
woven scenes; cows In a country lane
an apple tree in bloom q.
craftsmanship that he mad inherited
down through the generations.
Nicholas had established a market
for his quaint rugs. Just today very
dominant lady, richly dressed, had
come into his room and had ordered
three of his oval patterns for her new
country home. When she had turned
to leave she had spied the loom In the
corner on which was the half-fnished
dream rug. She raised her lorgnette
and eyed 1t closely.
"And this-for sale? I'll take 1t,
too. So quantity delightful-and beau.
tiful. Those scenes in the Dor
Nicholas shook his gray head, smil-
ing wistfully.
But 1t is not for sale, madame. 1t
is the one thtng-I have-memories,
you call them. Yes, memories
of my country my family"
"Your famiIy?"
ayes, madame my wife, Ka-
trine. my little Ilenea, lost to me
when they came to America seven
years ago. My wife died at sea 4.
buried beneath the waves, and my lit
tie girl was taken by a society in
New York knew not the
customs of your country. I had little
money l had sent 1t all to
them could not meet them
I could not write my
little Ilenea, my little songbird, was
taken by kind people, they told me
later, but I have never found her.
This rug Is like the one / wove for
her little room under the caves in the
farmhouse on the hill. I cannot sell
1t, madame
Old Nicholas had hardly finished his
supper when his old friend, Ivan, who
had a shoe repair shop In the base
ment around the corner, came. A ten
der friendship existed between these
two old wallis in a strange land. There
was seldom an evening that Ivan did
not drop In for an hour beside his
friends stove, smoking sell
dom talking thinking.
In his hand he held the evening pa
per and he spread 1t out at his friends
elbow.
"See, Nicholas. see a sing
"
She sings here Thursday night &.
all the folk songs of her country
they call her the immigrant
songbird. We shall go to see her,
Is 1t not so. Nicholas? Her voice,
ah-h-h-h, the little singer from your
country has a throat Of silver. The
club ladies will make a prlma donna
out of the little Immigrant girl &.
with bird voice :"
Nicholas hands shook as he held
the paper close to his falling eyes,
strained from long hours over the rug
making. Then he clasped 1t close to
his bosom.
"A stranger-from the fatherland,"
he whispered. perhaps she will sing
to me OF the pastures, the hills and
the sunsets Of my country.
Ah yes, we shall go, Ivan to
hear the little singer her
name again? L-e-n-o-r-a Aaron
shall remember. Thurs
day night we shall hear her." and
then his eyes sought the loom In the
farther corner. "And ! shall take her
gift the dream rug with
scenes from the country-our Father
land-of which she will sing to me.
will give her gift for her songs
the songs my little Ilenea
sang :"
With the paper propped before him
on the loom. the eyes Of the immigrant
songblrd smiling into his as he
worked old Nicholas worked long In