f the violin. The
faces that had shown indifference and the look of languid weariness
freshened and became tense in all their lines; and on their heads again
animation sat crowned. Those who were seated jumped to their feet. The
conversationalists broke their circle and swung suddenly into line. Eyes
sparkled. Little happy screams and miniature war-whoops from the
boisterous youngsters rang through the parlor. In eye, and look, and
voice, the popular tribute spoke in honor of the popular instrument,--an
instrument whose strings can sound almost every passion forth: The quip
and quirk of merriment, the mourner's wail, the measured praise of
solemn psalms, the lively beat of joy, the subtle charm of indolent
moods, and the sweet ecstacy of youthful pleasure, when with flying feet
and in the abandon of delight she swings, circles, and floats through
the measures of the voluptuous waltz.

In one corner of the parlor there was a platform, from which charades
and private theatricals had been acted on some previous evening, and to
this the Lad was escorted; and strange to say his awkwardness had
departed from him. His form was straight. His head was lifted. His
shambling gait steadied itself with firmest confidence. His long arms
sought no longer feebly to hide themselves, but held the package that he
carried in fond authority of gesture, as a proud mother, whose pride had
banished bashfulness, might carry a beautiful child. So the Lad went
toward the dais, and, seating himself in the chair, proceeded with
deliberate tenderness to uncover the instrument.

An old, dark-looking one it was. The gloom of centuries darkened it.
Their dusk had penetrated the very fibre of the wood. Its look suggested
ancient times; far climes; and hands long mouldering in dust. It was an
instrument to quicken curiosity and elicit mental interrogation. What
was its story? Where was it made? By whom, and when? The Lad did not
know. It was his mother's gift, he said. And an old sea-captain had
given it to his mother. The old sea-captain had found it on a wreck in
the far-off Indian Ocean. He found it in a trunk--a great sea chest made
of scented wood and banded with brazen ribs. And in the chest, with it,
it was rumored the old mariner had found silks, and costly fabrics, and
gold, and eastern gems,--gems that never had been cut, but lay in all
their barbaric beauty, dull and swarth as Cleopatra's face. Thus the
violin had been found on the far seas--