The Wichita daily eagle., 1894-02-17
THE OLD PI ANO.

From the Detroit Free Press.
! 1t stood in the show window of a
| large music store on much frequented
| avenue, and as its extreme old age and
| ugliness were accentuated by price
| mark some of the passers-by paused to
inspect the valuable ruin.
! Papa, did they make ugly little
srights of pianos like that for people to
play on?' asked a happy child of her
Voung father.
Not in my day, child" answered
the father, gently amused.
rs that the thing my grandmother
| played when she was young?" asked a
.raceless youngster of white-haired
nan beside him.
Your grandmother was not born
| when that thing was made, boy" re-
! :orted the grandfather disdainfully.
No one admired the ancient outlawed
thing that was jeered at for it's awk-
wardness, and it stood there alone of
It's kind, stiff and clumsy, showing
through its cracked coat of veneer all
the landmarks of time, the pitiful help
.essness of age.
Presently quaint old woman with
basket on her arm hobbled up to the
window. In earlier days she had been
known as character" now she was
shunped as crank. Her dress-if such
It could be called-was the rags of
Eentlewoman. Her face resembled
those porcelain lamps in which rose
| light burns. But her light had gone
put leaving an ash color. When she
! saw the old piano with its yellow keys
let far apart like the sentinel teeth Of
lge. she clasped her shriveled hands
and gave great cry.
where did they find it? apd how
dare they exhibit it here? When 1 saw
It last twas in grandfather's room
| with the tall clock and the old har-
| nonium. 1t was old, old then. / used
20 play for the poor old man when
| was home from school-that was be.
fore / ran away with handsome Harry.
All, me, ah, me, there is something
wrong here'-she tapped her head
| iightly-''it's all wrong-a mad world,
NY masters"
Then she laughed shrilly, and the
crowd cheered her good-humoredly.
''It won't speak for you, but I car
make it sing-listen!' she shrilled.
The crowd made way for her to enter
the store and the dealer, thinking to
advertise his antique possession, helped
the little old woman up into the win
dow and seated her before the old
piano as if she had been prima donna,
| Selfshness, my brothers 1t is at the
root of many kindly action in this
world but then
TinlSle- e-tinkle-tinkle. The sounds
| produced from those yellow keys were
| not as musical as sheep bells iangle,
but the crowd laughed and cheered,
and the frail old fngers-it was said
they had done the business for hand.
some Harry. but that was when she
was mad-struck chord. and "Auld
| Lang Syne" foated out in a weird
| melody that was full of passion and
pain, and the sobbing of the loneliness
Of life Then a pause, and the accus-
toned fingers struck an air of the past,
and q mournfully sweet voice sung the
words of an old love song:
"Onee you said you loved me dearly
The people whispered to each other
that she had been great musician in
her day. and pressed forward to hear
her and-no one smiled.
I'll buy that old piano, said grufi
voice; Its got more music to the
square inch than any of your new.
| tangled instrunents-it's got a soul in
it, SO it has,
Did they tell you was false, Harry darling:"
She sang the old song through. and
broke off to give them 'Bonaparte
Crossing the Alps" They could hear
the very tramp of the martial feet as
her fingers struck the loose keys that
responded with their last thrill of har-
mony to her compelling touch.
It's a trick TO sell the piano-the
music-dealer stands in with her-bui
she and the old instrument are mates"
said man in the crowd
Ave" answered his friend; ''iike
those bird-whistles the street fakirs
sell-no one ever can make such music
ont of them as those fellows do. It's
one of the tricks OF the trade.
The old woman turned white, tired
face on them.
Ghosts. ghosts. alb OF ye: but tins
is real. = and she touched the keys, tina,
answered with plaintivc air
Mad, they whispered TO each other.
But the music she played held them
spell bound. It was the cry Of the
homeless, the desoiate. voiced like a
prayer. Men took OF their hats and
bowed their heads; women sobbed-
The music became chant-a requiem:
There's 10 place ltEe so1nes
There's 10 place Ike home
Hone sweet sweet home
As the last note died away, the singer
laid her head on the keys, and-did
not lift il again
This piano is sold, : said the dealer,
As he stepped 10 his shog- anaow and
/ 3ronnei tina curtain