The herald., 1894-07-08
TIE OLD SONGS.
Whatever the Vogue of Style In Music
They Never Loso Favor.

Whatever the Vogue of style In Music
They Never Loso Favor.
1t was hotel parlor; brilliant pi-
anist had just rendered one of Wagner's
most difficult pieces, and a murmur of
we'll bred applause followed. Then
very softly and tenderly, like sweetly
tremulous old voice reciting pathetic
memories, the ivory keys sent the plain
tive melody Of 'Auld Lang Syne" sigh
ing through the room. The idle chatter
teased, every mind was busy with bit
fer sweet memories, and the air was full
OF the sceno Of vanished clover. the
warm fragrance of newly tossed hay,
the echo of babbling brooks. The simple
tuno knocked at the door OF every heart,
and the ghosts Of dead days came troop
ing forth in answer.
A stout dame on the musicians left
looked away through the open window,
beyond the moon flooded hills, and
sigh scintillated the jet upon her ample
BOSOM She had gone back to a sum-
mer eve years ago and was dressed
in faded pink calico and Tapping sun
bonnet again. Her bare toes sank deep
in the yellow dust Of the country road
as she drove the COWS home through the
lonely, cool shadows. John Edward.
freckled faced and honest eyed, camo
sheepishly out of the woods and joined
her, and the COWS were late that night,
for what has young love to do with
time?
A dignified old gentleman beside he,
blew his nose and incidentally wiped
his eyes. He was thinking Of the morn
ing when ho went out to seek his for
tune and turned under the windy or
chard trees to wave Of last farewell to
a mother, who stood in the door with
her check apron to her eyes. He had
whistled "Auld Lang Syne' to keep
back the rising sobs as he trudged upon
his way.
Not word was spoken when the last
memory haunted note died away in 81
lence, but every one had paid tho tribute
of tear to "Auld Lang Syne. -
An almost forgotten poet, Robert
Hinckly Messenger. quantity wishes for
old wood to burn, old books to read and
old friends to talk with in all ideal old
age, and he might also have added old
tunes to be played in the long twilights
in which he dozed and dreamed in an easy
chair 1t is fact that none Of the pop
ular songs of late years survives mayhy
existence. They catch the lip but do not
hold the heart, and are written to cater
to the popular fancy, unlike the old
tunes which are birth marked with the
joys and woes of the human race.
Music hall melodies may come ano
go and he forgotten, but as long as &
sprig Of heather blossoms on Scottish
moors Highland Mary" will bring
tears to Scottish eyes. and the cruelty
of Barbara Allen will go dowr
through all the ages while lads go court
ing and lasses are capricious. Ever,
sailor leaves "Black Eyed Susan" il
port behind him, and there is chort
in every bosom set to the wanderer'
immortal cry, "Home, Sweet Home. ,
"Annie Laurie" will live as long as tn
English language. Neither Hande
nor o Beethoven composed the Mar
seillaise," yet it became the battlecr.
of nation. It is not to the music Of, tn
symphony societies that the dying turn
but to Crock Of Ages. F"
Many Of Gilbert & Sullivan's catch
melodies are borrowed from old ballads
and they have even Mother Goose t
thank for some of their success.
Strauss may set the feet to dancing
Wagner tickle the brain and Mozal
please the ear, but nothing can touc
the heart like the old tunes. -Philadel
phia Press.