The News-Herald. [volume] (Hillsboro, Highland Co., Ohio) 1886-1973, 1894-08-09

ion until the evening, when Bhe came
down rather late for table 'hote. She hur-
ried over her dinner and went into the
salon. She closed the door and sat down
to the piano and fingered there without
touching the keys. Once or twice she
raised her hands, and then she let them
rest on the notes, and half unconsciously
they began to move and make sweet music,
and then they drifted into Schumann's
"Abendlied," F" and then the little girl play
ed some Of his 'Kinderscenen, and some
OF his "Fantasie Stucke," and some of his
songs.
Her touch and feeling were exquisite,
and her phrasing betrayed the true musi-
clan. The strains of music reached the
dining room, and one by one the guests
came creeping in, moved by the music
and anxious to see the musician.
The little girl did not look up. She was
in Schumann mood that evening, and
only the players Of Schumann know what
enthralling possession he takes of their
very spirit. All the passion and pathos
and wildness and longing had found an
inspired interpreter, and those who lis
tened to her were held by the magic which
was her own secret, and which had won
for her such honor us comes only to the few.
was at her best with him.
At last she arrived at the "Carneval,
and those who heard her declared afterward
that they had never listened to a more
magnificent rendering. The t., oTness
was SO restrained; the vigor was refin-
ed. When the last notes of that spirited
'Marche des Davidsbundler Contre les
Philistins" had died away, she glanced at
Oswald Everard who was standing near
her, almost dazed.
And now my favorite piece of all, " she
said, and she at once began the Second
Novelette," the finest of the eight, but
seldom played in public.
What can one say of the wild rush of the
leading theme and the pathetic longing of
the intermezzoS
The murmuring lying notes
That fall as soft as snow on the sea;
And
The passionate strain that, deeply going,
Refines the bosom it trembles through.
The little girl ceased playing. There
was not sound to be heard. The magic
was still holding her listeners. When at
last they had freed themselves with a sigh
they pressed forward to greet her.
There is only one person who can play
like that" cried the major, with sudden
inspiration-'s is Miss Thyra Flower
dew"
The little girl smiled.
THAT Is my name" she said simply,
and she slipped out of the room.
The next morning at an early hour the
bird of passage took her flight onward,
but she was not destined to go off unob-
served. Oswald Everard saw the little fig
ure swinging along the road and he over
took her.
You little wild birdr' he said, land
so this was your great idea, to have your
fun out of us all and then play to us and
make us feel don't know how--and then
to go.'
81 hope 1 have proved to you that the
bellows blower and the organist are some
times identical, - she answered
But he shook his head.
Little wild bird, :" he said, "you have
given me a great idea, and I will tell you
what it is-to tame you. So goodby for
the present"
'Goodby," she said. but wild birds
are not so easily tanned"
Then she waved her hand over her head
and went on her way singing. Black
woods.