The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1885-10-01

Young man, said a prosperous
looking citizen yesterday evening, did
you ever observe the habits OF musical
people?''
30, no, sir; that branch is not in our
department
Because if you have he continued
without noticing the answer. ''you
have seen a great deal OF character
that you would not have seen if you
hadn't.
With this strange declaration he
subsidized into deep reverie. a cloud
of pain occasionally passed over his
lace, and there was a twitching of the
muscles OF the mouth, as if he were
undergoing some mental torture
Presently he gave start, and rubbing
his hands across his forehead for the
purpose of collecting his thoughts,
broke the impending silence with his
voice.
''Ah, mer' he said, Il was living
over again some nights Of agony L
have spent. l am fast growing old. l
am haunted by a terrible delusion. At
times feel that my hair is white as
snow, my hands shake us if with palsy.
and L seem to totter on my knees.
When the idea pursues ME | cannot
get rid of it, and am driven almost
to desperation"
Il am sorry for you, my friend"
said the reporter. "But, really, you
don't LOOK anything like the being you
describe" And he was, indeed, ANY,
thing but like it. Large, well-built
fat, and jolly-looking, he rather was
an impersonation of prosperous En-
gliSh country squire.
he unused. ''And, strange as it may
seem, it is true that the delusion that
haunts my dreams and makes my
everyday life miserable existence is
caused altogether by the playing of
violinist in yonder." and he turned his
head and pointed his finger toward "a
dark, gloomy, dilapidated house that
loomed up in the shadows falling
around.
lie is young man who has long
been IN low health and spirits. Two
years ago his father died-stricken
down very suddenly; six months after
ward his mother, one of the klndest
mothers that mortal ever loved. fol-
lowed her husband. The brother and
two sisters left behind continued to
live IN the old home. They were never
seen to smile. The young man is
great lover of the violin. | believe he
was taught by his father. The instru-
ment he uses is a wonderful one that
was obtained in Italy over fifty years
ago. The violinist never plays except
at night Then he shuts himself alone
IN his dark room, and pours his soul
out through the strings. And, oh! |
think there can be nothing in this
world OF the next sadder than the
walls in that music. 1t is the melody
of the soul that has been dead for
years. The players heart is broken,
and he plays heart broken music. |
have listened at my window some
nights and eagerly drunk in every
note. 1t makes ME feel old and heart
broken. 1t is terrible delusion, but
| cannot shake it off when it comes
upon me. For days at time it makes
me miserable, till l grow desperate"
The gentleman lives on Dr. street,
East end. Those who are intimate
with him confirm his story. His case
is indeed peculiar. Yet it is not the
only one of its kind, for several SINH,
lar to it have been known to occur 1t
is powerful illustration of the pecu-
liar mental organization of a musical
disposition, and of the mysterious in
huence that music has upon one who
loves it and surrenders himself alto-N
gether TO its influence. -PdtsbuTg Dis
patch