River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1894-04-05
MUSICAL GRASS.
Wonderful skill of Cunning Fakirs in FOOL
ing the superstitious.

ing the superrtlttous.
There vet remain certain corners of
the earth where natural wonders of
the exceptional sort await the inspec-
tion of the more adventurous and Curl
ously inclined. One of these as yet
generally UNEMPLOYED corners lies not
far from the old temple caves of Bagh.
in India. Here there is a lake, in which
is small islet. Around the shores of
the lake, and of the islet especially, is
a dense growth of reed grass. The
forest surrounding both swarms with
the deadly serpent tribes and other
dangerous beasts of prey peculiar to
the jungle.
The islet itself Is but a tiny one, and
when viewed at distance looks like q
pyramidal basket of verdure, so over
grown is it with the tall reeds. The
only inha bitants of this isolated spot
are the ubiquitous monkeys. who rem
devious among a few mango trees that
grow in the midst. This reed grass is
seven or eight feet high, and plumed
at the top, the color effect of which is
as of "a waving sea of black, yellow,
blue and especially of rose and green. :"
But the wonder does not become APP
parent until the evening wind begins
to blow. Then the gigantic reeds
awake and begin to toss uneasily, and
suddenly, in the general silence of the
forest around, there is somewhere let
loose whole river of musical sound.
first like that of an orchestra tuning
up" and then flood of harmony fol-
II, IL 4 L.
with the strains of hundreds of Eo-
liam harps. 1t swells and deepens, fill
ing the air with indescribab BILE melody,
now sad and solemn. as of some funeral
march, now rising and trilling upon
the air like the song of the nightin
gale, to die away into silence with a
long-drawn sigh.
Then again the sounds rise, clashing
like hundreds of silver bells, then sud-
denly changing to the heart-rending
howl of a wolf deprived of her young.
A gay tarantelle follows, then comes
the articulate sound of the human
voice to the vague, ma iestic accords of a
violoncello-anda all this represented in
every direction by hundreds of respon-
sive echoes. Let the wind but rise, the
sounds pour and roll in understandable,
overwhelming energy-comparable to
nothing but a storm in the open sea.
You hear the wind tearing through the
rigging. the swish and turmoil and
laundering shock of the maddened
waves.
A lull, and the scene is changed to
the d.m-lit vault of a cathedral, throb-
oing 10 the long-dfawn roll of organ
notes, ending, perhaps, in the clangor
of an alarm bell. And so it goes, until
your ears ache and your head reels
under the strain.
On the opposite side of the lake you
will see the fires of the superstitious
natives, who congregate to bring offer
ings to the Indian god Pan and his
hosts. who are held responsible for the
sounds evoked. The cunning fakirs
alone know better, but because of GER
tain benefits that accrue to themselves
from these reverential offerings do not
care to enlighten these bronze-faced
devotees. The explanation is a very
simple one. This reed grass is hollow;
it shelters a species of tiny beedle, and
these tiny insects obligingly bore the
no 5 in these innumerable pipes of the
great god Pan.
Then comes your falSir, and he. with
his knowledge of acoustics-for the SUI
perior class of Hindoo asceties are
deeply versed in natural laws-en-
larges and shades and finishes until
each reed is perfect lutte, answering
to a certain keynote in the musical
scale. The wind is the musician and
blows the pipes thus prepared with re-
suits as described. Why the fakir
should go to the trouble of attuning
the reeds is probably due to the habit
ual fostering of native superstitions by
the Brahmins in control. burgh
Dispatch.