, 1888-10-25
POOR BLIND TOM.
HOW THE ONCE NOTED MUSICIAN
oASSES THE SUMMER.

east of the b]ustling Bowery, stands an
old fashioned, marble stopped dwelling
that is a marked spot in that noisy quar-.
ter of the town. At varying intervals
daily the music of a sweet toned piano
floats softly from the interior OF the old
house and mingles a delightful harmony
with the dull hum of traffic in the popu-
lous thoroughfare, Men and women hur
rying to and fro in the street stop often
and listen to the strains. The fingers
that SO deftly touch the keys and draw
such wondrous symphonies from the in
strument are those of a %strapping big
negro who sits at the piano in the spacious
back parlor. and for hours sometimes
those residents who are fortunate enough
to have living quarters in the houses in
Ninth street whose back windows look
upon the rear porch of the old fashioned
dwelling have a rare and delightful treat.
Every once in n while the stalwart Afri-
can will start up from his seat and rush
ont upon the porch, and pace up and down
like an imprisoned animal, beating his
chest and moaning piteously. A railing
that reaches above his waist completely
cuts off egress to the little garden patch
that blooms in the back yard. and he runs
his hand along it as If he were trying to
find a stairway to the garden.
How are you. Tom? What's the mat
terri some one who has been listening Is
sure to say when the musician makes
such sudden appearances on the porch.
Their greeting is always CHEEKY, for all
the listeners know well that the big
chestod negro is none other than Blind
Ton. The famous Ethiopian pianist. Tom
never appears in public. lie is suffering
from some nervous complaint that rem
-ders n repetition of his stage perform
lnces impossible.
For hours daily he tramps up and down
the porch in his slippered feet. clad in
blue trousers and n dark flannel yachting
shirt, b~areheaded and uneasy. He behaves
like an imprisoned bear, Mt times crouch
ing on all fours or dancing up and down
in mysterious dclirium. He has worn
a ridge in the flooring of the porch near
the LGnd rail by his restless promenade
to and fro. Music or harmonious sounds
seem to be the only influences that ever
divert him from { en- these copecs on the
porch.
One Sunday recently the chimes in
Grace church stecplo on Broadway began
to ring. and the echoes, soitened by the
distance they had traveyscd, struck Toms
ear with a sweet tin~tinnabulation that
reproduced note by note tho beautiful
hymn, Nearer. my God, to Thee
In an instant the bl ndcd giant ceased
his tramp on the porch, and. resting his
hand on the railing, raised his sightless
eyes to the sky, and, turning his head IN
the direction of the chimes. stood like n
statue, listening with ra9t attention to
tho melody Tho echoes died away
finally, and, waiting some moments to
hear if they would continue, he CROPPED
his way through the open window into
the pGrlor. and, seating himself at the
piano, ran his fingers over the keys in q
sudden inspiration. What he played was
an imitation. as perfect as the piano
would allow, of the music of the chimes.
Tom repeated the same stirring imitation,
when n little later the chimes again ran
out upon the June breeze.
Then he rose from the piano. went out
on the porch and listened in a curiously
intent way. to the noise made by the flap
ping wings of q flock of pigeons, whose
cote is built against the wall of an ad-
joining house.
The sun meantime rose so that it's hot
rays broke past the shade of n tree in the
garden and beat against the side partition
of tho porch. The big negro leaned on
his hand against the partition. He with
drew it the moment he felt the heat. The
sensation seemed to puzzle him, for he
placed his hand on the partition again,
withdrew it a second time and began to
stroke it II to ponder. He stood in his
way stroking his hand for many moments.
Then he looked up and smiled. 1t had
dawned upon him at last that what he
had felt was sunshine. He held both
hands aloft and CROPPED in the air until he
discovered by his sense of feeling that he
was standing in the rays of the sun. He
remained on the spot m~otionless, with his
sightless orbs opened wild to the golden
rays, and laughed with the glee of a child
who had found a new plaything.
One day last week when he had found
the sunlight in this same cropping way a
servant girl, with a high keyed, discord-
ant voice, began to sing white Wings"
as loudly as she could. She was at work
in a dwelling some distance from Toms
house, but he heard her voice distinctly.
1t appeared to CRATE upon his nerves ter
ribly, and he dashed up and down the
porch in n rage, and finally turning his
face in the direction of the singer, he let
loose the vocal batteries of his wrath full
upon her.
Shut up, can't your he screamed.
You ought to be ashamed of yourself to
make such a frightful noise"
lie poured out rebuke in this frantic
style for many minutes, while tenants of
surrounding houses, who had a strongly
grounded prejudice themselves against
the servant girls vocnlization. roared
with laughter.
Ills method Of c~omplimenting good
musicians is rs tlattering us this rebuke
of discord is severe and maddened. There
are some cultivated vocalists and pianists
in the Ninth street flats whose rear win.
dows look out on his porch. and he stands
and listens, smiling whenever the trained
voices practice, or the pianists. who, in
this instance are young women, play
Then he dives into his parlor and plays
the music of the song, or repeats the
piano mr. on his own grand piano. 1t is a
mighty popular way OF showing his APP.
probation
Day by day passes thus in tue old
fashioned house, with the afflicted blind
musician awaiting the new delights that
come from unexpected harmonies of sound.
Watched by a guardian, freed of all care.
aud Giving himself UP to the wilkins and