Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
A little old man with a violin tucked under his arm,
shuffled down the attic steps and the many flights of stairs,
until finally he reached the streets. As he shuffled down
the street, he clutched his coat tightly about his throat,
for the air was chill and he felt the cold.
At the first street corner, he stopped and placed his
(00:21):
violin to his shoulder to play, but catching a glance
from the policeman across the street, he hastily tucked his
violin under his arm and shuffled on. He walked a
great distance before he again stopped. It was a busy
corner where hundreds of people passed every few minutes, but
when he played, no one stopped to listen to his music,
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much less to drop anything in the tiny tin cup
he had placed on the sidewalk before him. Tears came
to the poor little old man's eyes. Every One was
too busy to stop to hear his music. So in
the evening, when he slowly retraced his steps towards his
attic home, his feet were very tired, and he shuffled
more than he had in the morning. His back humped
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and his head drooped more, and the tears nearly blinded him.
He had to stop and rest at each flight of stairs,
and he fell to his knees just as he reached
the attic door. He sat there and rested awhile, then
caught hold of the doorknob and raised himself to his feet.
A quaint, little, white haired woman greeted him with a
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cheery smile as he entered. Then, seeing his sad face,
she turned her head and tears came to her eyes. Honey,
the little old man sobbed as he stumbled towards her
chair and fell to his knees before her, burying his
face in her lap. Neither could say a word for
a long time. Then the little old man told her
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he had been unable to make a single penny by playing.
No one cares to hear an old man play the violin,
he said, No one cares that we go hungry and cold.
And I can still play, he added, fiercely, just as
well as ever I could listen to this. And the
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little old man stood up and drew his bow across
the violin strings in a sure, fiery manner, so that
the lamp chimney rattled and sang with the vibrations of
the strings, and in his fierceness, he improvised a melody
so wild and beautiful his sister sat entranced. As the
little old man finished the melody, he stood still more upright, then,
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straightening his old shoulders and pulling his hat firmly on
his head. He stooped and kissed the old lady, and
walked with a firm tread to the door. I shall
make them take notice tonight, he cried, I shall return
with success. So again he went down the long flights
of stairs and down the street until he came to
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a good corner where traffic was heavy. There, with the
mood upon him which had fired him in the attic,
he played again the wild melody. A few people hesitated
as they passed, but only one stopped. This was an
old woman, bent and wrinkled, who helped herself along with
a cane. She stopped and looked him squarely in the eye,
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and the little old man felt he should recognize her,
but he could not remember where he had seen her before,
nor was he sure that he had ever looked upon
her until now. At any rate, the faint memory inspired him,
and raising his violin, he played a beautiful lullaby. Before
he had finished, the old woman leaned over and dropped
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something into his little tin cup. It sounded as loud
as a silver dollar would have sounded. The dear, old,
generous soul, the old man thought, as he continued playing.
He played for hours, but the old woman was the
only one who stopped all. At least have enough to
get Cynthia some warm food, he said, thinking of what
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the old lady had dropped into his tin cup. But
when he looked, what was his dismay to see only
a large iron ring. Again, he climbed the stairs to
the attic, but he felt too weary to say a thing,
and his sister knew that he had met with disappointment.
He tossed the iron ring to her lap and went
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over to the bed and threw himself upon it. This
is the end, he said, and told her about the
iron ring. The old woman seemed interested in my playin,
he said, and perhaps she gave all she could give.
Let us not be down hearted, brother, said the sister.
(04:42):
Surely tomorrow you will find some one who will reward
your talent. The little old man was quiet for a
long time, and then he arose and again drew his
bow across the violin strings. The old lady sat very
still and dreamed, for her brother was playing one of
their childhood songs. As she lost herself in reverie. She
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turned the iron ring around her finger and saw upon
its surface. As she turned it the faces of her
playmates long ago. And as the brother swept from one
melody to another, she saw the iron ring change color
and grow larger and larger. And as she turned it,
she saw the figures of her childhood playmates turn before
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her upon her lap, and they joined their voices with
the silvery notes of the violins long ago songs, until
the attic was filled with the melody, and the figures
danced from her lap, and, taking her by the hand,
circled in the center of the attic room, laughing and singing.
The little old man had been playing with his eyes closed,
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but as the songs grew louder, he opened them and
beheld the ring of little figures, with his sister, holding
hands with two of them, and rising from the bed,
still playing the child hood songs of long ago, he
walked the center of the room. As he did so,
the figures rose in the air and seemed to grow
lighter and larger, and suddenly the scene changed. He was
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out in the woods, with lofty trees towering above him,
while all about, laughing and talking were hundreds of little fairies, gnomes,
and sprites. And there too were the playmates of long ago,
just as he had seen them when he had closed
his eyes and played in the attic. And there too
was his sister, as she had been when a child.
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He looked at himself, and lo he was no longer
wrinkled and old. He was young again. In his gladness,
he danced with joy, and catching his sister to his breast,
he kissed her again and again, and looking about him
with shining eyes, he again drew his bow across the
strings and played a tune so lively and full of
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sweet happiness. The childhood friends caught hands and danced in
a circle. Little sprites, elves, gnomes and fairies caught hands
and danced around the children. And as they passed before
the brother, he caught a mischievous glance from the eyes
of one of the little fairies, and he knew in
a moment she was the one who had played the
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old woman, and who had given him the iron ring.
The people who lived in the room below the attic
room missed the little old man shuffling step, and not
hearing it for two days. They told the landlady, a
kindly soul, who had let the brother and sister have
the attic room free of charge, and all went up
to investigate. They rapped upon the attic door. All was
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quiet within. Timidly they opened the door and looked in.
There upon the floor lay an old, rusty iron ring.
It was the Fairy Ring. End of the Fairy Ring
by Johnny Gruell