Pipes OPan at Zekesbury | Page 4

features, in
appearance, wan and humid.
"Now, sir!" said the Professor, leading the limp Sweeney forward, and
addressing him in a quick, sharp tone of voice.--"Now, sir, you are a

great contractor--own large factories, and with untold business interests.
Just look out there! [pointing out across the expectant audience] look
there, and see the countless minions toiling servilely at your dread
mandates. And yet--ha! ha! See! see!--They recognize the avaricious
greed that would thus grind them in the very dust; they see, alas! they
see themselves half-clothed--half-fed, that you may glut your coffers.
Half-starved, they listen to the wail of wife and babe, and, with eyes
upraised in prayer, they see you rolling by in gilded coach, and swathed
in silk attire. But--ha! again! Look--look! they are rising in revolt
against you! Speak to them before too late! Appeal to them--quell them
with the promise of the just advance of wages they demand!"
The limp figure of Sweeney took on something of a stately and
majestic air. With a graceful and commanding gesture of the hand, he
advanced a step or two; then, after a pause of some seconds duration, in
which the lifted face grew paler, as it seemed, and the eyes a denser
black, he said:
"But yesterday
I looked away
O'er happy lands, where sunshine lay

In golden blots,
Inlaid with spots
Of shade and wild
forget-me-nots."
The voice was low, but clear, and ever musical. The Professor started at
the strange utterance, looked extremely confused, and, as the boisterous
crowd cried "Hear, hear!" he motioned the subject to continue, with
some gasping comment interjected, which, if audible, would have run
thus: "My God! It's an inspirational poem!"
"My head was fair
With flaxen hair--"
resumed the subject.
"Yoop-ee!" yelled an irreverent auditor.
"Silence! silence!" commanded the excited Professor in a hoarse
whisper; then, turning enthusiastically to the subject--"Go on, young
man! Go on!--'Thy head-was fair-with flaxen hair--'"

"My head was fair
With flaxen hair,
And fragrant breezes, faint and
rare,
And warm with drouth
From out the south,
Blew all my
curls across my mouth."
The speaker's voice, exquisitely modulated, yet resonant as the twang
of a harp, now seemed of itself to draw and hold each listener; while a
certain extravagance of gesticulation--a fantastic movement of both
form and feature--seemed very near akin to fascination. And so flowed
on the curious utterance:
"And, cool and sweet,
My naked feet
Found dewy pathways
through the wheat;
And out again
Where, down the lane,
The dust
was dimpled with the rain."
In the pause following there was a breathlessness almost painful. The
poem went on:
"But yesterday
I heard the lay
Of summer birds, when I, as they

With breast and wing,
All quivering
With life and love, could only
sing.
"My head was leant,
Where, with it, blent
A maiden's, o'er her
instrument;
While all the night,
From vale to height,
Was filled
with echoes of delight.
"And all our dreams
Were lit with gleams
Of that lost land of reedy
streams,
Along whose brim
Forever swim
Pan's lilies, laughing up
at him."
And still the inspired singer held rapt sway.
"It is wonderful!" I whispered, under breath.
"Of course it is!" answered my friend. "But listen; there is more:"
"But yesterday!...
O blooms of May,
And summer
roses--Where-away?
O stars above;
And lips of love,
And all the

honeyed sweets thereof!
"O lad and lass.
And orchard-pass,
And briared lane, and daisied
grass!
O gleam and gloom,
And woodland bloom,
And breezy
breaths of all perfume!--
"No more for me
Or mine shall be
Thy raptures--save in memory,--

No more--no more--
Till through the Door
Of Glory gleam the
days of yore."
This was the evident conclusion of the remarkable utterance, and the
Professor was impetuously fluttering his hands about the subject's
upward-staring eyes, stroking his temples, and snapping his fingers in
his face.
"Well," said Sweeney, as he stood suddenly awakened, and grinning in
an idiotic way, "how did the old thing work?" And it was in the
consequent hilarity and loud and long applause, perhaps, that the
Professor was relieved from the explanation of this rather astounding
phenomenon of the idealistic workings of a purely practical brain--or,
as my impious friend scoffed the incongruity later, in a particularly
withering allusion, as the "blank-blanked fallacy, don't you know, of
staying the hunger of a howling mob by feeding 'em on Spring poetry!"
The tumult of the audience did not cease even with the retirement of
Sweeney, and cries of "Hedrick! Hedrick!" only subsided with the
Professor's high-keyed announcement that the subject was even then
endeavoring to make himself heard, but could not until utter quiet was
restored, adding the further appeal that the young man had already been
a long time under the mesmeric spell, and ought not be so detained for
an unnecessary period. "See," he concluded, with an assuring wave of
the hand toward the subject, "see; he is about to address you. Now,
quiet!--utter quiet, if you please!"
"Great heavens!" exclaimed my friend, stiflingly; "Just look at the boy!
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