IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I XL Ui "^ lis lllllio 2.5 III 1.8 11.25 U, ^ ■« 6" ► <^ /2 -/^^ 7 Hiotographic Sciences (Corporation 23 WBST MAIN SV'^56T WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 l/.A CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHIVI/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques at cibliographiques The tot The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. 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Un des symboles suivants apparaftra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon Ie cas: Ie symbols -^ signifie "A SUIVRE", ie symbols V signifie "FIN". Maps, plates, charts, etc.. may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atre filmfo 6 des taux de reduction diff Arents. Lorsque Ie document est trop grand pour Atre reproduit en un seul clichA, 11 est film* A partir de Tangle supArieur gauche, de gauche i droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant Ie nombre d'images nAcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants iiiustrent la mAthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 6 6 ■ SORROW ■/■ttr^*'g^jt^:iw«^a^j>Mriif.n»titt-^'^:#^';gaaiM W m^ fnn'intwiii ■!-i-mm'.^sm!t^'^^ '■«ifr3?'!<;-?5^*« Sorrow and Old Friends By W. A. Frazer Author of'MooswcC* Philadelphia Henry Altemus Company -^^nMMtariHWMMkH AS 1^ Copyright 1896 by Henry Altemua. I^O'U .i. t..X-A ^vv-^* G 4 "!«-*■ SORROW. IT was summer. The hot sun glazed the white road golden-yellow. The shadows thrown across it reflected blue from the cloudless sky. Across the little picket fence the purple and white lilacs drowsily kissed the lazy air with their perfumed breath ; slow-winged bees droned sleepily and sucked leisurely at the lilac nectar. It was summer. The birds sang it, the trees whispered it. A blind man, led by a little boy, came waveringlyup the road. Opposite the lilacs SORROW he stopped, raised his head and took a great deep draught of the perfumed air. It filled his lungs and spread his chest, as the wide-spread nostrils drank it in. The birds, startled by his appearance, twit- tered and chided him for intruding. He put the heel of a time-browned vio- lin under his chin and drew the bow trem- ulously across the eager strings. The wailing notes jostled their way over the lilacs, elbowing the droning of the bees and the silly twitter of the birds, and glided through an open window. Dot heard it ; and a little battered doll tumbled recklessly to the floor as she 8 ...,.««»«..>* -«»wmi*<-.v*^»-<.'--.^w-'^-ra»T^--r-^™^'-'''^^^ SORROW jumped up clapping her tiny hands with delight. "Moosic, Mudder !" she said. The doll looked up, filled with pathetic resentment, but Dot didn't mind; dolls were all very well for a general engagement, hut music was the soul of things; it cut out the whole world with Dot. "I don't want to play in your yard," sang the violin; and the birds stared stu- pidly at this strange-voiced creature that hushed their timid lay with its strident song. -Here^s a penny/* said Dot's mother, "give it to the man." .-wiwasaBifwwiiis^ssaaaai 1 SORROW The little girl danced down the gravel path and pushed her way through the lilacs out onto the walk. Then she stop- ped suddenly— shyly— she had seen the little boy. The music had called to her— it was a friend, even the birds were not afraid of it— but a boy, that was something for ser- ious consideration. Dot stood irresolutely turning the pen- ny over and over with timid nervousness. Resolve darted her forward, and almost before she knew it she had dropped the coin in the little brown paw of the lad. That was the beginning. She backed 10 [ m n! Hi, i 9 ' >.." i w mr. iw i ww S O R R O 'W up two steps and sighed contentedly. The music whispered-reassuringly; so she lis- tened with the birds and the lilacs and the drowsy-eared trees and looked into the big brown Italian eyes of the boy, and saw that he was only a little boy. The next time the fiddler came she spoke to him. The pair came often after that. The blind fiddler, the brown-eyed boy, a golden-haired little girl, a penny and the music. Rather a simple group. The player's face had always been plain. When God had closed the win- dows of his soul and shut out the light, it II pHttSaM^nM**'-^'' SORROW had grown plainer, but that made no dif- ference. The little meetings came oftener, the birds sang blither, the sun shone gentler, the lilacs saved up their fragrance for the music days, and the bees droned happier when Dot and her friends met. Then many days went by and the fid- dler did not come. Dot waited and count- ed the days and asked her mother why ; and something had gone out of the sum- mer. There were three weeks like this and then one day the violin sent a sigh up the gravel walk and Dot heard it. She skip- id \ ■UPPP ■■■^iHP^^.^^WBIIP'^TP^^ra Vi SORROW ped eagerly out to the old music trysting place. The man was alone. * Where's 'oor little boy?" she asked. "He's dead," the blind man answered, and the bow pulled heavily at the discor- dant strings. "Won't he tum any more?" Dot asked, trying to understand the great something that was not of the music, nor of dolls, nor of anything she knew. The man stopped playing, searched about in the dead air with his wavering fingers until he found the curly head, and as his hand rested there for an instant, answered, "No, Pietro won't come any more." 13 SORROW That was all; but some of the know- ledge of the emptiness of the world came to Dot. The leaves whispered it and the lilacs breathed it, and she went into the house, and, taking the little battered doll in her arms, cried, and cried, and by-and- by fell asleep on the floor. After many days the player came again, and stopped at the lilacs in front of Num- ber 7. The violin called, and whispered, and sang, and stopped, and called again, but Dot did not come. A man walking briskly by, stopped, looked at the house, and touched the player on the arm. **Don't you see there is crape on the 14 mmmww^^ "^HHB^™ SORROW (loor—white crape!" he said reproach- fully. "Pardon me," he added hastily, as the player turned his face, and he saw that he was blind. "I did not know— forgive me. The blind man moved vacantly a few steps, and sat down brokenly on the edge of the walk. He sat there a long time, the plain, shaggy head drooped hopeless- ly on his breast. **God takes all the flowers," he mut- tered ; **all the sweet young flowers, and leaves a ragged weed like me. Oh, Pietro, Pietro ! why can't I go too. I am blind and tired — " XS :'^??^f^.'s-T*r:'"r^ ':jiMW<*,A SORROW "Come, move on," a rough voice said, and a policeman shook him by the should- er. He got up, moved aimlessly a little distance, and when the heavy steps of the officer died out he went back and sat down again, and waited. He was listening for something — watching with his ears. "Perhaps they'll come to-day," he muttered, and waited. At last there was the sound of wheels —heavy, muffled wheels. He knew what that meant. He counted — one, two — a dozen ; always the same slow solemn roll of heavy wheels, and always hushed at the same place; just where he used to i6 ,0m^'' SORROW play ; where Pietro and the little girl used to chatter; where the silly birds mocked him, and the leaves whispered, and the lilacs shed their perfume. He rose up, and going close to the gate, stood with bared head. Somebody pass- ing dropped a coin in the hat. He threw it far out into the dusty road. He could hear the people going in and coming out. At last there was the shuffling sound of many feet moving together — something was being carried. The blind man stepped forward and raised his hand. The bearers stopped. 17 r^iS*>^i-^rii._:e:K'^^^iX'f*'^^^rvJi«i¥niMM^^i.^ r OLD FRIENDS The hotel was new ; it was not the old, bulging board building that had stood on the corner when he lived there before. The electric lights, and the glass doors, and the modern glitter of the place chilled him. All the faces were new. In the crowd that thronged through the offices and halls he felt like a man who struggles wearily across a great plain alone. When he had eaten he started eagerly for the one place he felt sure was un- changed. Straight eastward through the main 34 OLD FRIENDS street he walked — not a building could he recognize. Plate glass and bricks confronted him where before had been the cosy little win- dows of the stores he knew so well. There on the right old man Bishop had sold him overalls; a little higher up he had bought good stout boots from King. The stores were new and the keepers strangers to him. He almost ran in hib eagerness to get by it all. It made him feel so much alone in the world. At the top of the hill he could see the road winding like a grey woollen thread 35 Biww.;>%^'^..Ttf:K«p«a^'''>«^-ft':*|p9B«^^ H OLD FRIENDS r i across the flat; a row of lamps glinted like a string of star-beads by the side of it. On the right, half way over, he could see the firm outline of a square, sharp- roofed building, a spire cut the gloom o£ the night sky. From the gothic windows the bright lidits streamed. His heart gave a great throb of joy. He sat on the handrail that guarded the high sidewalk, and tried to compose himself. He was trembling with joyous, eager excitement. Ah ! this was home. There were lights in the windows for him ; the church was 36 OLD FRIENDS his mother; it had sheltered him when he was an outcast. And now after all those years he had come back to the home of his childhood, and where all else was cold and chill, the church was still there, and warm and bright, and beckoning to him with its lights. Then he walked on again. As he ap- proached the church, he heard the shuf- fling of many feet. "It's prayer meeting, I suppose," he thought, **and the people must be coming out." But the door did not ogen. 37 ■■■•r'.-t*^.4 OLD FRIENDS !i I As he approached, the noise grew loud- er. Still nobody appeared. '1 wonder if I shall find the old min- ister here still," he muttered as he opened the door. On the threshold he stood like a man petrified. A dozen young men were rushing and tearing at each other like gladiators in a Roman arena. High up on the wall, just where the blue and gold pipes of the organ had once stood, was a queer ar- rangement like a fish net. They were playing basket ball. The chill that had crept about his heart 3S OLD FRIENDS up in the fantastically decorated hotel again gripped him. Familiar sights that he had expected were all absent. Just over in the corner to the left was where Deacon Ball used to kneel in prayer. He remembered with a little pang of remorse how he had often smiled in de- rision at the enormous feet of the Deacon, as they stuck out in the aisle ; there never was room in the pew for both them and the Deacon. Now the umpire of the game sat there with a little bell in his hand which he tinkled occasionally. 39 •lafe^.^ OLD FRIENDS Nobody paid the slightest attention to Peter. He closed the door and trudged back wearily through the hot spring night to the hotel. In the warm brisfht sunshine of the next morning a little of the cold thawed from Peter's heart. Minister Grant was still alive, he discovered. His benefactor had given up the care of the flock, and was living in silver-haired peace where he had labored his good life through. Peter's voice trembled a little when he spoke of the little old church — told that it was he who had sent the funds. "Ah! said the minister, "your gift of 40 OLD FRIENDS money was nothing to the foresight which commanded us to keep the old church for- ever. It does more good to-day, per- haps, than the nev/ building in which our people worship. ■ "In it our young men find amusement and manly games which keep them from the billiard and bar rooms of the hotels. "There seems to be a charm about the old place, for they will go there when you couldn't get them to attend a prayer meet- ing." A great peace stole over the heart of Peter. God had blessed his gift. 41