Stabat Mater

Father Michael - the choiv boys had dnbbed him Old Hunchback - was or1 ganistinMnhlbausei). Every man,woinau and child in the parish knew him. Moa Dien I for over 30 years the old women had dozed aud nodded to his luusic aad the young girls had sat dronming abont weddings and christenings white Old Hnnohbaok up in the j argan lof t sat and iinprovised sonlsvrayug melodioH on his instrument Bat ffotside of the parish not a cat knew Father MiohaeL WJiat happened to him haa happened te tnauy othera; af ter his death his aamë was known OTer land and kingdom. Then fame took it on its wings, and Bovr, 'whereTer dwella an Alsatian is known the legend of Father Michael's Stabat Mater. In bis youth he had dreamed of great aehievements and honor as an artist, but never had he believed thathis name woald be eelebrated in legend and in öóng - he who in his old age had beoome accustoiiied to being laughed at by every body. Aad pitifully ridicnlons looking he was with his hunched back and his monkey faoe, so ugly that the dogs barked when they saw it And for this reason he had gone through life with love for naught but his rnusic. Dp ia the orgau loft of the chnrch, lifted above his fellow men, he was transforrned into another being. And he played with such wonderful skill and touch that the rnaidens heard sweet whisperings of love ia the flow of melady, while the dozing mothers were swayed into dreains of happy girlhood nnder the iafluence of his strains. But this was qf 'no conseqnence to Father Micbael ; be played mostly for himself - expressions of his heart'a Bileat dteaiiia. ♦# They jeered and ridiculed hirn in the village. Every time he went into Moser'e, the tobacconist, ha was greeted by a earcastic : "Whydon't yon ínarry, Father Michael? Are yon going to live without leaving so much as your name after yon? What you iniproyise on the organ amounts to uothing ; it dies away at once. No, it is a great deal better to give the schoolmaster a li tile trouble and present sonae fine boys to the army." Everybody in the etore laughed a this eally. Michael was just the right oae to give his country brave soldiers ! But be, let the people laugh and sought consolation in his beloved orgau. The war was ended. But after that time it was that PaEher Miohael feit his loneliness heayier and more dreary than ever. The wonnds of ieerjpg WQLa spnk deeper, and be feit teir uní with bléeding heart. There were moments yheu even the music Eailed to bring him peaoe. It seemed to tum as if the worde of his neighbora were blooming more cruel and that there lay more seriousness in their raillery. Perhaps he was right. Misfortune dwelt with thern ; there was bitterness in iiiaiiy hearts. Perhaps now they Eound a oertain satisfaction in gifing relief to their bitterness by tormenting Old Hnnohbaok - him who did notweep with them, bnt only played on nis organ- the oldgood for nothing. Yes, poar old Michael thonght that be himself was the most wretchedly oeeless creature in existenoe. Moser and the others were decidedly right. During the anxious days of the war the others had done everything they could. Fathers and sons had seized their arins and gone f orth to battle ; the women had cared tenderly for the sick and he wounded - he, he alone had only jeen able to mourn and dream. Day after day he had sat for hours bef ore his organ immovable, with his face hidden n his hands - seeking after something ie had never been able to find - a meloiy which breathed and lived in his eoul; a miserere f all of tears and of Êorrow, but through the sigbs there Hhould sound the cry of wrath I the ory of revengel Oh, if he, with thunderous, raging and rushing billowa of sound could have cheoked the adyancing enemyl Bnfc dayB, weeks, months passed. The loathsome annexation yas a bitter fact. The time passed and no deliverer carne. Gradnally the ueoks were bent. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, they grew aocustomed to the burden of the yoke. Now aud theu was heard an exalted voice hurling an insanely impotent protest against the ccmqueror and seeking to iucite the people, hut the people listened, terrifled, to the bold words. Once in a while a rebeJlious coneoript created a scandal in the barracka by shouting, "Vive la Prance!" when the oathof allegianee was to be adrainístered. It also happened that a daring patriot had uailed the tricolor to the belfry of the church tower on the rnoruing of the 14th of July. And great cousternation was cansod by n yonug blond girl who at a fete crossed the inarket square, where all the military authorities were ! assenibled, dressed in a neckerchief of red, white aud blue. Further than that the rebellious it did rvt evinco itself. Butwitb every r eucli ovubnrst the grief aud pain of Fathpr Aiiohuel became intrensified. The t meiuory's fever, which was whipped out of the others as soon as it showed ' , itself, was locked up and hidden iu tho [ soul of the old man. But there it ]ay aud grew to a sickly bate, to a helpless : j envy against all these others. He eiivied ; the unknowu youth who had nailed the flag of Franco to the old tower; he envied the ïvcruit who hadshonted, "Vive laFrauce!" in the barraok yard, and he envied the girl who had had'courage to bear the colors of France right through the lines of the enerny. Everywbere about him they found every day some new way of showing i their strong niemory and a faithfuJness ! that knew no death. He alone could do nothing, conld find nothing. He was useless - always tiseless. Yes, yes - his soul could weep, but his organ - it sang beueath his fingers. . But ono day Old Hunchbaok stepped iiito the tobáceo store, and they scarcely kuew him. His face beamed. Moser filled bis snnffbox, aud aa usual began his sarcastic reruarks. "Well, now you see, my good Father Michael, of what nse really is such an organist, eh?" But Moser did not finish This time Father Michael did not bend his head. This time it was Old Hunchback who smiled with a peculiar and proud expression. He looked frankly and earnestly at those present, and there lay a calm dignity over tbis hunchbacked old man with the curious monkey face, and his voice was resonant and firm. "Yes," he said, "even organista may be useful. Justwait; I will prove it." ■ They orowded around him. They in - sisted and coaxed him to teil them what it was, but he was sileut. Smiling as they never before had seen him, he stepped out of the store, and his step was elastic as that of youth. He looked almost straight, this hunchbacked old man, as he passed dowu the street. Moser aud the crowd in the store soon came to the oue conclusión that the organist had gone mad, stark mad. In the evening the whole village knew that old Father Miehael had a screw loose. This was in holy week, on Weduesday. Mauudy Thursday the bells ara ruug for the Christians of the whole world, even for the Alsatians, and everybody goes to church. But in I Lorraine they thought not only of the holy resurrection, but also of anoiher - the morning of the resurrection of liberry, which no bells as yet had proclaimed. Qood Friday the church was tbronged with people. High up on the altar stood the black draped cross. Heavy bands of crape were twisted about the unlighted candles. From the chancel the priest read heavily and slowly the holy words of the suffering of onr Saviour; about hirn who bent his head in death to give to the world peace, forgivenesa and liberty. And the people reverentially knelt on the flagstones aud oö'ered up their hearts in silent, sorrowing prayer. Slowly the priest goes toward the altar, and now the grand "Stabat Mater Dolorosa" was to be sung. It was a moment of deepest silence in the church ; the congregation had opened their prayerbooks. To them it seemed as if their conntry was the sorrowing mother, who stood under the cross, vith the sword piercing her heart, sighiug af ter deliverance and liberty. The silence became long, oppressively long. The organ wonld not begin. Was it then really true that Father Miohael had gone mad? The sexton in the chancel pnlled the string that led up to the organist. Over the entire church could be heard the faint tinkling of a little belL Then the organ woke. The wholechuroh resounded with fierce trumpet calis. The singers arose in wild amazement. Why, this was not the prelude to "Stabat 1" And the whole congregation was as if strnck by lightning. No! It was not "Stabat Mater" that sounded from the organ ! ït was a hymn full of thunder and of fire, the organ pipes rang out like brazen trumpets, the deep bass tones roared like cannons, and the deflant rattle of the snare drnm's beat echoed through the sanctuary. Clanging of arms, rattle of musketry, shrieks intermingled with trompet blasts and clashing of swords there were in this fierce outburst of sounds. The organ groaned and trembled beneath its burden. , But tbe congregation below had risen. They were like a crowd in tnmultuous uproar. Voices took up the strains of the organ ; first one, then a mighty union of voices bnrst forth in fierce ud restraint. Mothers stood upon the seats, stretching their children toward tbe organ, weeping, but singing witb wild intensity. Choir boys and priests made frantic motious to check the organist, bnt all the while they were singing the "Mai'seillaise" uncousciously. And Father Michael played on ; nothiug could stop him. He played like one possessed, and now and then his thin, shrill voice could be beard, as if spurring on the tones of the organ, now rising in a wild, challenging cry : "Aux armes citoyens! Le jour de glorie est arrive I" Suddenly the organ was silent. Father Michael had snnk from his benei). They found him lying on the floor. They heard him whisper witb a peculiar srnile: "I knew that I should find it. It is my hymn - 'Stabat Mater, ' retribution's stabat mater dolorosa!" A restful sioh - Old Hunchback's soul had