The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1896-01-30
HOW HE pRAcIIcEp.
4 Little Brooklyn Boys Daily Piano Les
sOu.

some respects successful His teacher, an
engaging young woman recently gradu
ated from the conservatory, remarked that
he had developed, almost from the moment
he had taken his place at the instrument,
unlocked for power for one SO young and
had given evidence of degree of clever
ness in general exercise along the keyboard
that made her more than hopeful of his
future in music.
He must not seek to progress too fast,''
was the parting injunction to the boys
mother.
''Then you really think he shows an
aptitude for methodical practice?'
"Oh, yes" replied the teacher "But we
will have to be patient with him and make
course everything depends on practice, for
practice, you know, makes perfect" She
caught the youngsters eye at this juncture
and addressed him in her most soothing
tones:
''You will not forget what teacher said,
will you, dear? Reconnaissance, two,
three, four, strong, firm touch every
time
"Yesm." replied the pupil, who stood
beside his mother, gracefully balancing
himself on the outer edge of his well worn
soles.
The door opened and closed, and the
young musician noted the departure of his
tutor by yelling, lone, two, three
sneak!" and by deftly lodging he got out
of range and escaped being goose yoked by
his mother, now her real self, who had
sought to capture him about the neck
with the crooked handle of "real wood''
umbrella hastily snatched from the rack
in the hall.
"Now, Randi said the mother, return
ing the umbrella and assuming an injured
tone, "do try to be good" She moved
forward with ghostlike step as she spoke.
Don't cut up any more oapers. Remem-
Der what your teacher said and go and
practice, and will not whip you"
The advance of the mother was coinci-
dent with thu retreat of the son., Reach
ing the piano, the lad tapped high c.
tum, tum tie tum, tum, tum-and in a
frank outburst of confidence announced
that he would accept his mothers condi-
tions.
''I'n be good, mommer, for fact.
Cross my heart. That's right
That satisfied the mother-mothors are
easily satisfied with their own boys-and,
mentally moralizing on the influence of
kindly nature in the training of 9-year-
Olds, she sighed and went to her sewing
room, where she was soon dividing her
time between a pattern for yoke collar
of ecru guipure filed with killed white
chiffon, and an esoterio review of Svenga1i.
With bound such as carries a boy over
the back of mate in the entertaining
game of foot and half Rand landed on
the milling top of the moth eaten fringed
piano stool, and, without loss of time, be-
gan his practice.
Now, this is the bass, said the boy,
sweeping all the keys from the center
down to the last low octave, "and these
squealzers are the trebles,'' running his
right thumb nail along the white keys ON
the opposite side
'''Fhis is the bass,
And this is the treble.
II don't be good
I'll be licked like the debbil.''
He repeated this extemporized verse half
dozen times with an accompaniment in
three fats and two sharps and ended it
with Wagnerian climax
"Rand! R-a-n-n-d! Are you practic-
ing?''
The boy did not answer his mother. He
saw no need Of it.
Am practicing!'' he said to himself.
II 'spose she didn't hear me. Mebbe she
thinks I've run out. P'raps she's got
notion in her head that the Forty seventh
regiment band is in here practicing.
That's always the way. They never think
I'm doing anything. I'll make her hear
me this time!''
uitohinrx tra hooI1 Of Io 1tL L.
and withdrawing his foot from his slipper,
he poised the well fiattened and ill shaped
article over his head.
"This will be the Grand Army coming
down Bedford avenue. I'll whistle for
the flies, and this, - wabbling the slipper
twill be the bass drumstick, and this -
placing his finger on the deepest toned key
on what he called the here comes7the-
woolly- woolly-wolf side'' of the instru-
ment, twill be the drum All readyl
ochp'
Half singing, half whistling, he started
through Georgia 60, 900 strong. But sud
den order to halt came from his immediate
superior in the sewing room before the ad-
vancing column had passed beyond the
confines of Atlanta.
care you doing as your teacher in
structed you TO DOR, asked his mother.
leaning well over the stairs, with view to
making the young man think she was
nearer than the fact warranted
''Not 'xactly. l was jess trying some.
thing new. Say, mommer, did all of the
80, 900 soldiers sing all the time they wuz
a-marching through Georgian
II do not know, my child,'' replied the
mother, pleased at the interest he seemed
to be taking in his country's history.
''Ask your grandpa. He was soldier
with them"
lone of the go, 600 strong, momn er?"
eyes, my little soldier boy, one Of the
so, O0o"
81 don't believe they did. know they
didn't all sing" KS
"How could you know itP Little boys
assume to know too much''
''Fakes don't go with me. I've heard
the deacon try to sing lots of times, and,
say, he can't MARBLE a little biti''
"This is no time to discuss that sub
ject, /" said the mother, stepping down to
the turn on the stairs and seeking to re-
move finger mark from the wall paper
with her handkerchief. "And, moreover,
Rand, you should be more respectful when
speaking about your grandpa, and partic-
ularly with reference to his war record. I