The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1892-12-18
GOING TO THE "OPRY."
How Bill Nye's New Posters De-
ceived Country People.
HAPPY TOWN OF SMEAR kAsE
Madeline Plays the Piano for Leonard
With Technique Like tho football
OF . Wounded Buffalo.
copyright, 1892, by Edgar W. Nye.,

Last evening quite party came by team
from small cheese town twenty-five miles
away to our unparalleled entertainment.
They were disappointed in it. They said
they thought it was an "opry." We carry
quite line of printing, and it is snowy
and beautiful, l must say. We have every
thing from little dodgers in pale pink and
blue up to the three and ten-sheet posters.
Inc papers are kind to US, giving our agent
desk room always while he writes the crit
icism OF our performance, and so SUBJ
urban and outlying towns at times get the
Impression from our air, and not from
anything we state at all, that we carry
thirty people and stud of fine horses
which We introduce at each performance
So these young people residing at the
cheese towr0had somehow got to thinking
that we had an "opry." They came arm
in arm from the train with bright, ex-
pectant faces, to the opera house. Their
eyes just danced with expectation. Our
manager is to blame for this, for his bills
are alive with pictorial action. He for
gets that people who are not profound ex-
pect that the Attraction" is going to
place himself in all these attitudes.
The young people put up at the hotel for
the meal was ready.
PLAY something, Madeline" said Grace,
who was large, powerful girl. with tight
shoes and a slight stoop in the back, but
one could see by her muscular frame that
she stoOps to conquer, Tor l thought when
saw ner that she was the village black
smith, who meath the spreading chestnut
stands, with strong and brawny arms,
God wot, and whiskers on his hands.
Play something. Madeline" again
came the pleading, yet deep, rich, manly
voice of Grace.
ooh, shet up!" exclaimed Madeline.
I'D druther talk or play some game till
supper's ready. Give us rest!" she added
petulantly, for one could see that she was
the spoiled darling of the cheese town and
wore mauve suspenders over a draddy tay
CAMP.
ooh, play something for me, Maddie"
said tall, 1.-the young man with knob
on his throat, which rose and fell like the
price of wheat when he swallowed. '.Play
something for me-" he said, swallowing
something with sound that reminded
one strangely of the hanging of Mrs.
Surratt. "Play 'Bonaparte's March"
Maddie."
There was a wistful look in his eye, and
he leaned forward toward her till she
could almost feel his hot Bermuda onion
breath on her cheek
he was OF deep passionate nature. in
cliIed to the sanguine bilious. His father
owned the livery stable under whose aus
pices they had come.
PLAY something for me, Maddie. Play
'Bonaparte's March," exclaimed the tall
young man. leaning still farther toward
her and regarding her with look of heart
hunger in his eye that reminded one in
spite of himself of one who had been
searching for the open polar sea and
boarding himself.
"Yes, do" said Grace, "play something
for Leonard, even if you sour on u.s." She
then rose and escorted Maddie to the
piano as Sandrow would have escorted the
child wonder to the door for good spank.
Reluctantly Maddie went to the piano.
and aside from tiutter of tiny mother
of pearl suspender bottom on the real
Brussels carpet and its low buzz as it spun
across the zinc under the baseburner, there
was no sound. With Grace there was no
monkey business.
Madeline looked up dreamily to the wall
trying to think Of the piece. She then
touched the keys with a technique that
was like the heavy football of wounded
buffalo.
my patience" she exclaimed, looking
at her fingers suddenly. "this piano amt
been swept since Adam was a yerlinP'
Merry laughter from the delegates of the
rennet village greeted this sally.
The piano was poor. 1t was not what it
had once been, and it never was much. 1t
had been taken out of four burning hotels
within fifteen years by misguided people
who thought that piano ought to be
preserved. 1t may be as WE'LL perhaps,
right here for me to admit that l believe
the time is coming when pianos will be
sold as one sells good horse, for
whatever it will bring. There are gener-
ally two or three people in century who
can get music out of a piano, as there is a
man who can walk across Niagara falls on
tightrope every hundred years, but there
is growing feeling among grownup men
who own pianos, and who keep them in re-
pair, and who get nothing in return but poor
playing, perpetual practice and apologies.
that they will some day unite and demand
some other instrument. Some day the
piano will follow the aquarium. with it's