The DeLamar nugget. [volume] (DeLamar, Idaho) 1891-1900, 1892-01-25
THE UNMUSICAL PIANO.
And How 1t Was That 1t Ceased
to Annoy.
Why Esthetic Mr.. Jimpson No Longer
Objects to His Lonely, Sad Neigh
boris Musical Eforts-In a
Pathetic Key.

Had a queer experience tho other
day" said Jimpson at the club, slipping
his coffee. The after-dinner converse
ton had drifted into discussion as to
whether the piano was curse or a
| blessing to modern life. The opinions
seemed to be about evenly divided.
Certainly it cannot be said of the
piano, as of other instruments, that its
emusic arose with its voluptuous swell.
| Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake
again.
For Byron wrote that at time when
the piano was as yet practically I'M
known. Nor did Wordsworth have ref
erence to the piano when he remarked:
'''Where music dwels,
Lingering, and wandering on as loath to die
Like thoughts, whose very sweetness yielded
proof
That they were born for immortality
mo, no; it has been amply stated
that music hath charms to soothe the
savage breast, but not piano music
That line was penned at much earlier
period
''When Music heavenly maid, was young;
While yet in early Greece she suns
And, therefore, ye brethren of the
quill | have TO cast my vote against
the further continuance of this instru-
ment of torture auricular and mental
tho piano."
This harangue had been delivered by
Simpson, the recognized authority on
the poets, a man who was always
sua0iter in mode, Jfortiter In re and whose
voice, therefore, was rather potent 1t
was in reply to him that Jimpson had
said:
Had queer experience the other
day."
And TO this chorus had responded
with: "Then by all means let us have
iti'
WELL" said Jimpson, ''you know
have lived in fat since last May. It's
cozy, containing everylsind of improve
ment that heart can wish, and for
about month l felt real comfortable
in it. But one evening, just about
dusk, as I was lolling in my easy chair,
| heard music overhead in the upper
flat. 1t was piano music. That in
itself was nothing to get angry about,
but the kind of music it was! Played
by somebody who has never been
properly taught, who hacks away and
makes each note shrek and howl, who
has no conception of harmony, meas
ure and time, the hackneyed pieces
which filtered down to me through the
ceiling in un@sthetic chunks by no
means promoted my post-prandial di- |
gestion. Next morning L inquired as
to the identity of this modern Torque-
NADIA l was told by the janitor it was
young widower, who had lost his |
wife but recently, quiet, unobtrusive, |
otherwise well-behaved man. Next |
evening, as sat at my desk, painfully |
seeking for a proper denouement in |
the plot of my new NOVELETTE, hero |
having gotten himself into an awful
hole, from which it was very hard to
extricatc him-the music overhead be-
gan again. The same music, same
pieces And it was played as exas-
peratingly as ever, by clumsy fingers
and with touch that would have done
honor to a wood-chopper. l felt sick
at heart. In spite of all my efforts to
ignore this tantalizing music, could
not. Every bar hit my sensitive ear
like a trip-hammer ] was unable to
continue work. And that night in my
sleep heard as an endless refrain the
Irills and frills. of 10 Anderson, My
Jo,' Comm Thro' the Rye Annie
Laurie and Nancy Lee 1t was a
regular nightmare Walking and
sleeping, those over-ripe tunes followed
ne about-ate with me, drank with
ne, slept with me and prevented me
from work. Thus fortnight passed.
md was just about on the brink of
unacy.
Last Wednesday evening, as the
piano fend above was again racking
ny soul and body, became desperate.
IF course, knew l had no legal right
% interfere, nor to tell him to stop his
nfcrnal playing But an Unsuitable
lesire to see what this fiend in human
shape looked like, and whether, per-
laps by bulldozing or by slzillful flat
cry l might prevail upon him to let up
IN me, had taken possession of me- l
lad wasted away to shadow during
hat fortnight, and 1 thought he might
possibly take pity on me if threats or