Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1883-03-21
THE WHISTLER.
The Music OF the Lips-1he Phil
osophy of THAT Dreadful Whist

ling"
o whistle and I'll come to you, my lad;
o whistle and I'll come to you, my Lad,
Tho father and mither and a. should gaze
mad;
O whistle and I'll come TO you, my lad.
Some years ago at Boston theater
during one of the tedious waits, when
the orchestra had finished its selection
and everybody had expressed a criticism
On the play, there came one of those
dead lulls during which five minutes
seems all age, and just at that moment
some one in the second gallery began to
whistle "Home, Sweet Home" The
low, clear notes were as musical as the
strains of flute, and they
pierced the air with their
homesick melody and touched every
heart. All heads turned to look up, but
it was impossible to distinguish the
whistler of the sweet strains among the
very ordinary looking people there, UNI
til a policeman appeared and churlishly
silenced him, and then it was seen to be
a sickly looking, poorly dressed man
who had entranced every car with bis
plaintive, tender melody and left a
III ChCIS HCdlls
whistling is almost one of the lost arts.
"For goodness sake stop that dreadful
whistling," says some distracted mother
to her offspring. She does not consider
that whistIing is a safety-valve to the
boys feelings, relief to the pent up
Utica of his powers, and one of the few
accomplishments natural to the general
boy.
The schoolboy with his satchel in his hand
Whistling aloud to bear his courage up.
1t is fact that there are boys who
cannot whistle. They will 60 through
the motions but only to succeed in max
NO noise % Witt others H, can
cut the air with a sharp, shrill, long
drawn inspiration that will start,e
sleepy dog half dozen blocks in the
distance, and bring all other boys out
like rats to meet at given point. send
boy on an errand and ten to one he
will whistle all the way there, and all
the way back, giving every conceivable
of. Ordinarily, people do not notice
this infection of the air in the shape of
free concerts, but stop a few moments
some day on busy corner and listen to
the Whistling boy. You don't hear any
whistling-you are disappointed; but
wait when it comes.
''There is land farer than day"
You can't describe whistle any more
than you can kiss; both are labial per-
formances that lose much in description.
But look at the boy that
is whistling that sweet and saint
" tune; he has bootblack's hat, has a
face as shrewd as ferrets and is testing
lead nickle and specializing as to the
best way he can run it out again. He is
followed in little while by tired-Mok-
ing messenger which is giving Peck-a-
boo for all he is worth; and then you
are almost set to dancing as st. Patrick S
Day IN the morning comes rollicking
down the street, with snatt hes of opera,
Baby Mine, the Wearing Of the Green
and more fashionable snatches from the
latest operas. The sweetest whistler in
Detroit is colored boy who is INSOFAR
BILE from wheelbarrow ofciothes which
he is taking home to his mother to wash.
There was never anything set to music
that he cannot produce in perfect time
and with every note clear and distinct
One day he whistles negro melodies;
another it is all church music. Then he
gives medleys and there is a singularly
plaintive, almost painful sweetness in his
tones. 1t is said that bad boys never
whistle; they are secretive and quiet.