The herald., 1895-10-13

too. like us, is looking toward the hills
Ctrom which cometh heip'). See how far
she leans out, shading her eyes with her
hands. How thin and white she is.
How gray her hair is. Her form grows
more erect as she stands there. Now she
has returned to the piano. She is closing
II. She is not going to play any more.
She is broken hearted ABOUT something.
all this Dornlng?"
do You not feel as il we had been and
were still listening to muster"
Neither has answered the others ques-
ton.
There is burst of sound clash of
stately measures.
Now that she is really playing
know. sne did not play before. l only
imagined that | heard music. -
From Q carrif &c at the front steps OF
the old Spanish house two figures are
alighting; one is that OF a fair young
girl dressed in bridal white, with flow
ms. veil and wreath OF orange blossoms.
She leans on the arm of tall, dark
young man, and as they ascend they
keep step to the music issuing from the
lofty chamber. They disappear through
the front door. But the woman plays on
and on. And is not the tune that OF
Mendelssohn's Wedding march? Yes,
surely; and the bride and groom are now
standing behind her. They wait until the
one after the other and kiss her cheek as
she looks up.
(Which was sweeter, dear. the music
you thought you heard at first. or this to
whicb We really have Just listened?
Which gave most unalloyed pleasure?"
smile little as l answer. The mu-
sic imagined. For the piano, alas, was
sadly out of tune. And, too, when the
real playing was going on l was distract,
ed from the mountain views and
the translucent air which is now showing
their outlines more vividly."
Very slowly he turns now and takes
my hand as he asks: "And the noun
tains. too, If they were brought nearer
TO US. would they appear so beautiful?
And the bride and groom, if we could
spirituelle to us they do now. across the
street? If we could read their hearts
would we ind as much unciouded bliss as
we now attribute to tnem? Ah, my love,
let US continue to be idealists, getting our
highest satisfaction out of the holiest
sentiments and aspirations, feeling that
only the spiritual and perhaps dimly seen
is the real. Let us cherish all the sweet
est illusions of nature, of art and of life"
''Yes, yes" | answer. LET us cult
vate them, encourage them, cherish
them"
"You remember the children we saw
yesterday beside the ruins of their ia
thers 8 burnt hovel. They were weeping
over the loss of the miserable shanty in
which they kept saying they had all
been SO blest and happy. But there are
myriads and myriads of persons who
have not enough imagination to make ex-
istence the perfect cream, which, even in
poverty, sorrow, sickness, long invalid
ism. loss, disaster. it still remains to
others of a different temperament They
feel only sense OF ennui, worry, weari-
ness of the flesh, almost despair and their
mental hunger is never appeased. l some
times think that In all our schools chill
dren ought to be taught Haweis' theory |
of music and morals. the facts of colors,
harmonies. which create as much music |
to the weII-attuned mind as the notes of |
an instrument to the ear. You asked me |
if l heard any music. said no. sat |
with my back to the mountains and the
foothills (nature's blending of colors is
always harmonious) and to the eloquent
figure of that woman and the piano,
which, because of our imperfect develop
ment, were needed to emphasize the i'm
preston of musical morning. But when
l turned my eyes away from the city's |
business life of the streets and forgot all |
the turmoil of sordid aims, felt the ro
nance, the poetry, the music of life in |
Los Angeles. We are not angels yet, you |
know, dearest. We are only men and
women. But the more we think of ma |
ture. her example of illusions, her pro-
cesses OF joyous growth, without noise or
clamor, the better for our immortal souls. |
We who abide In the City of the Angels |
can only make ourselves felt in it by
availing ourselves more and more OF a |
certain fate in its very name and consti- |
tuition. which we must learn to use assid- !
uously in climbing to more perfect I
heights of being.''
Yes" 1 answer earnestly. 81 am
sure you are right. And about the mu-
sic, too-mountain scensry always i'm
presses me as having all the uplifting
and nquilizing influence Of mighty
oratorio (Handels Messiah, Haydn's
Creation, in which hundreds of voices
blend as delicately as heavens own
hues). Shades of tone and shades of
color, musical waves and color waves
affect the same nerves. The soft mists of
lavender that veil the mountains seem
to me like the sounds of chorus when
the leader has indicat I'd pisan sslmo-
latent power held in reserve; the cold.
gray, everlasting rocks softened into
vapory splendors in the sunshine. Last
night when the sun set in deep crimson
and royal purple intermingied, l thought
OF the Carmen overture, SO full of revealed
ecstacv and fire and passion"
"I am deeply interested in that woman
across the street. She is an idealist, a
march well and bravely, even though so
cad herself and her piano such failure.
The wind is moving the curtain again.
Perhaps l -. Now some one ha,
drawn down the shade"
Sir Henry Irving is said to bs stouter
than when he was here two years ago
and bears his blushing honors most be-
comingly. In speaking Of the new plays
Mr.. Irving said that he considered the
modern play fully as coed as the older |
plays. The complaint about m odern plays |