To promote the industrial and technical utilization of alcohol, the Russian ministry of finance has offered prizes totaling about $136,000 for the best inventions in this respect.
“Song of the Winds” Reveals His Past.
Music wafted back to the empty halls of the lost memory of Charles Fitzhugh McReigh, a Boston composer, the love of a devoted wife, a deserted home, and anxious friends the other night. Memoryless McReigh has been wandering about the country for months.
McReigh mysteriously disappeared from his home over six months ago. He returned the night of his disappearance from a musical gathering with his wife and a party of friends, shortly after midnight. The following morning he failed to come down to breakfast.
For several weeks the family had no word of his whereabouts. After a while Mrs. McReigh heard that a man answering to her husband’s description had come under the observation of the police of several New England cities.
Detectives were appealed to, and, in the course of a month, traced the missing man to Norwalk, Conn., and discovered that while he appeared to be in perfect health, his mind was blank as to his whole previous existence. Nothing could be done to arouse him to his past personality.
The wife and family physician were summoned, but McReigh could not be made to recollect himself. Specialists were consulted at the time, and it was their judgment that he would never recover his mental balance. They suggested only one chance. If an idea, something that had been an absorbing part of his life, could be brought suddenly to his mind, the reaction might accomplish that for which they hoped.
McReigh went to Worcester, Mass., some weeks ago and registered at the largest hotel. Each night he would sit in the mezzanine balcony, intently watching the piano player, who was a fair young woman with beautiful blond hair. He sat there continuously and silently, always with a set look of wonderment as the music was unfolded under the deft touch of the little player.
The night McReigh recovered his reason was witnessed by several others who were sitting by him, listening to the music. The little pianist was playing, as usual, mostly soft, low music, that was soothing and restful, until she came to the last selection, “The Song of the Winds.” As she came to the final measure, with the crash of falling trees and overturned homes, McReigh arose from his chair and staggered toward the piano, and in an instant the little player and McReigh were locked in arms’ tight embrace.
There were just two words spoken—“Tom” and “Frances.” Then the woman collapsed and McReigh had[Pg 63] to be carried away, his face an ashy color. Both were cared for by the house doctor.