The Louisiana Democrat. [volume] (Alexandria, La.) 1845-1918, 1877-12-12
The Mock Mother.

An idle married woman who does
not care for her husband, who either
has no children or else takes no in
terest in them, must have something
to give flavor to life. Take the case
Of woman who has risen from the
ranks and attained that social posi-
ton which the judicious expenditure
Of a large fortune can generally give,
at least in London. She must take
mp some line to make her footing So.
cure. She must discover rising
star in art, science or literature. and
bring him before the public. Per-
haps she succeeds in persuading her
self that the passion of her life is for
music. She is utterly ignorant on
the subject, and without any natura.
taste, but, meeting by chance at an
evening party, a youth with long
hair and nlmble fingers, she decides
that he is the composer Of the future,
and invites him to her sat home.'
AS he turns out to be even more &C.
centric than she could have hoped,
he is at once adapted as a child of
the house, and given footstool at
his new mothers knee. He comes
after breakfast, and remains to
lunch. The silent and, long suffering
husband who expresses toward him
no paternsl feelings, is compelled to
retire to his club while his wife
FLAPS duets with the rising genius.
True, the poor youth has a certain
fatal facility, and can ring changes
on feeble motive, with dexterous
accompaniment formed out of the
common chord. But his compost
tions, though numerous, are always
slightly incoherent. There seems
no particular reason why they ever
begin, why they should ever end, or
why they should be counted as com
positions at all. They seem invari-
ably to be studies of chords or
sequences from various haphazard
points of view. Here and there q
truly sweet little air is begun, but it
vanishes unfinished, and the atten-
tive listener is saddened by his ears
nearly as much as is the criticby his
eyes on beho.ding the rough sketch
es of deceased artist of promise,
Nothing is finished, nothing com.
plete; there is certain amount of
talent, but no industry; there is fan
cy, but it ends in failure. Naturally
his adopted mother sees nothing of
this. She hears a pleasant jingle,
and is more than satisfied. She
talks to him Of his wonderful heav-
en-sent originality, his poetic touch,
his thrilling tones. Then she begs
him to play over again that air for
the left hand. AS he looks up from
the piano he sees her sitting SPELL
bound on the sofa. She is in a
morning-dress of white muslin, evi
IDENTIFY not donned from vanity, for
nothing could we'll be more unbecom-
ing to her portly form: She rises
with a deep-drawn sigh, and declares
that, sooner than believe a talent
like his can be wasted, she will
renounce her belief in future state
of existence. She startles him, but
being mystical and impressionable
as an imperfect musician must needs
be, he rises to the occasion, and
endeavors to refresh her religious
belief by sketch of his own. A
new mission presents itself. She
must save her dear boys soul, if any
one has a soul, which she very much
doubts. He must come daily and
spend the morning beside her at the
piano. She buys his Hymn to Sar
danapulus," and invites him to her
grand evening entertainments to
play the accompaniment. After
ward, when he is very tired, he is
allowed to improvise on the airs of
the latest opera boude, and, as a
great treat, to give a rendering of
his latest sacred piece, which he
composed to be played on the organ
in the Albert Hall. Next morning
she tells him that she alone can IN.
derstand his warnings and his gent
US; that she, too, has inspirations
which none but he can fathom, and
then only through the love he has
for her. Hereupon a great horror