A CALIFORNIAN STRANGER.

Pahiatua Herald, Volume V, Issue 513, 23 June 1897, Page 4

A CALIFORNIAN STRANGER.

It was Christmas Eve in a Californian mining town in 1858, and Goskin, according to his custom, had decorated his gambling-house - with sprigs of mountain cedar, and t a shrub whose crimson berries did 1 not seem a bad imitation of English i holly. The piano was covered with i evergreens, and all that was wanted t to iill the cup of Goskin’s contente ment was a man to play that piano, l “ Christmas night and no piano pounder ”he said. “ This is a nice i country for a Christian to live in.” s Getting a piece of paper he r scrawled the words, “ One hundred - dollars reward to a compitant Piano 3 Player.” This he stuck on the f music rack, and though the inscrip--1 tion glared at the frequenters of the f room until midnight it failed to draw 1 any musician from his shell. i So the merry-making went on, > and hilarity grew apace. Men , danced and sang to the music of the i squeaky fiddle and worn out guitar, i as the jolly crowd within tried to f drown the howling of the storm without. Suddenly they became < aware of a white-haired mail crouclii ing near the fire-place. His I garments, such as wero left, were wet with melting snow, and he had a half-starved, half-crazed expression. He held his thin, trembling hands i towards the fire, and the light of the blazing wood made them almost transparent. He looked about him in a while, as if in search of something, and his presence cast such a chill over the place that gradually the sound of revelry was hushed, and it seemed that this waif of the storm had brought in with it all the gloom and coldness of the wailing elements. Goskin, mixing up a cup of hot eggnogg, advanced and remarked cheerily, “ Here, strangei;, brace up ! This is the real stuff.’’ The man drained the cup, smacked Ins lips, and seemed more at borne. “ Been prospecting, eh ? Out in the mountains—caught in the storm? Lively night, this.” “ Pretty bad,” said the man. “ Must feel pretty dry ? ” The man looked at his streaming clothes and laughed as if Goskin’s remark was a sarcasm. “ Hour long out ? ” “ Four days.” “ Hungry ? ” The man rose up and, walking over toi the lunch counter, fell to woil; upon roast bear, devouring it hie any wild animal would have done. As meat and drink and ! warmth began to permeate the j -tranger, lie seemed to expand ami I brighten lip. llis features lost their pallor, and he grew more and more content with the idea that he was not m the grave. As he underwent these changes the people about him . got merrier and happier, and threw j off’the temporary feeling of depression which he had laid upon them. I’resently his eye fell upon the 1 piano. ] “ Where’s the player?” ho asked. “ Never had any,” said Goskin, ( bloshing at the confession. “ I used to play when I was i young.” “ Goskin almost fainted at the ( admission. “ Stranger, do tackle it, and give usa tune. Nary a man in this camp c ever had the nerve to wrestle with ; tliat music-box.” His pulse beat [ faster, for be feared that the man , would refuse. , “111 do the best I can,” lie said, j There was nc stool, but, seizing a j candle-box, lie drew it up, and seated r himself before the instrument. It v only required a few seconds for a hush to come over the room. “ The old coon is going to give tho thing a rattle.”

Ihe sight of a man at the piano was something so unusual that even the faro dealer, who was about to take a 50 dollar bet on the tray, paused, and did not reach for the money, Mon stopped drinking with the glasses at their lips. Conversation appeared to have been struck with a sort of paralysis, and cards were no longer shuffled.

The old man brushed back his long white locks, looked up to the ceiling, half closed his ey es, and in a mystic 1 rt of revi l ie passed his fingers over the keys. He touched hut a single note, yet the sound thrilled the room. It was the key to his improvisations, and as he wove his chords together the music laid its spell upon every ear and heart. He felt Lis way along the keys like a man treading uncertain paths ; hut he gained confidence as lie progressed, and presently bent to bis work like a master. The instrument was not in exact tune, hut tho ears of his audience, through long disuse, did not detect anything radically wrong. They heard a succession of grand chords, a suggestion of paradise melodies litre and there, and it was enough.

“ lice him counter with his left I ” •aid an old rough, enraptured. “ *ie calls the turn every time on the upper end of the board,” rep' li'hd a man v.uli a stuck of chips in Ins hand. lln player wandered off into the "LI lallads lie hml l inril at home. All the ml and melancholy and lm diing ' i "s, that came up like di'en s ol childhood, this unknown pi '? rdn w fr -in the keys. llis H* l Mils km .ulcd their hearts like dm "h, and squeezed out the tears as i" ill a wet, sp-lie'o. A . the strains i! iw i d one upon tin. other they saw -heir hemes of the long ago reared in ; tin y were playing once more ''here the applo blossoms sank til""" h the soft air to join the ' ;l > ! < i n the tin f of the old New I “Hand *u:i . they saw the glories

el lie Wisconsin maples and the ha.'e uf the Indian summer blending tl ::r hues together; they saw tho in at her of the Scottish hills, the "Lite chffs ol Britain, and heard the -i di n ri :ir ol the sea as it heat upon thi ir mi ninrios vaguely. lien fume e,!| the old Christmas

'""m 0. 111, i bay hud . Dug in the rliurrh thirty years before ; the subtle urn.' ie that brings up the glimmer of ■ a x tapir and solemn shrines, the i\ igiceii, holly, mistletoe, and surp!u- d choirs. Then the remorseless jii rteriiii-r planted his stall in every lu urt with “ Home, Sweet Home ” W lieu the player ceased tho crowd siiink away irom him. There was tin more revelry lift in the audience. Ka h man wanted to sneak off' to his rsl'in and write the old folks a letter. I he day was breaking as the lust man h It the place, and the pluyer, laying down on the piano, fell asleep. “ * titty, purd,” said Goskin, “ don't you want a little rest ? ’’ ”1 feel Until,” (he oil man said, i

“ Perhaps you’ll let me rest here for the matter of a day or so.” He walked behind the bar, where some old blankets were lying, and stretched himself upon them. “ I feel pretty sick. I guess I won’t last long. I’ve got a brother down theravine—his name’s Driscoll. He don't know I’m here. Can you get him here before morning ? I'd like to see his face once more before I die.” Goskin started up at the mention of the name. “He your brother ? I’ll have him here in half an hour.” As Goskin dashed out in the storm, the musician pressed his hand to his side. Goskin heard the word “ Hurry !” and sped down the ravine to Driscoll's cabin. It was quite light in the room when the two men returned. Driscoll was as pale as death. “My God ! I hope lie’s alive ! I wronged him when we lived in England twenty years ago.” They saw the old m#n had drawn the blankets over his face. The two men stood a moment awed by the thought that he was dead. Goskin lifted the blanket and pulled it down astonished. There was no one there ! “ Gone ! ” cried Driscoll, wildly. “ Gone 1 ” echoed Goskin, pulling out liis cash drawer. “ Ten thousand dollars in the sack, and the Lord knows how much loose change in the drawer ! ” The next day the boys got out, followed a horse’s track through the snow, and lost them in the trail leading towards Ploclie. There was a man missing from the camp. It was the three card monte man, who used to deny point blank that he could play the scale. One day they found a wig of white lntir, aud called to mind when the “ stranger ” had pushed those locks back whon lie looked to the ceiling for inspiration, on the night of December 24, 1858.