The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1897-11-30
From Household Words.
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curse the profesSor?' remarked
Somerset, with decision. "The oily
brute has bewitched you, Olivia. For
heavens sake don't quote his insane
remarks to me! When the chap has
mastered the English language or
have learned to splutter German his
sayings may perhaps impress me. AS
it is. 1 believe you and he are kill
ing my brothers son Just for your
own pleasures and for the delight Of
hearing the world rave over a poor
little wornout human musical box.
Hal, turn round and look at mel"
The child obeyed, swinging round on
the music-stool and rubbing his tired
hands together
DO you like that tune you have been
hammering out? his uncle demanded.
The ugly, clever little face dmpled
into simles.
1T is not tune uncler he laughed.
Its just an exercise to make my fingers
go faster. | know lot of tunes.
though, Herr professor says they are
fine indeed"
And you-what do you think of
them?"
/ The big soldier picked up the small
musician carried him away from the
/ piano and sat down by the blazing
1 fire, the child upon his knee"
Mother is fond Of them" answered
/ Hal, dutifully. Il like the ones that
please her, and when play at concerts
I | like the ones that make people en-
core me and throw me flowers
! what monkeyfed little ass it is"
/ sighed Somerset. "Then you like what
/ other people like--is that all?"
! Hal considered deeply, his forehead
! knitetd into lines of thought.
There are just few that sound
/ nice" he explained, after due delibera-
/ tion; "hut only a few-and the herr
I professor does not let me practice
/ them | pick them up when the piano.
/ organs play"
"Ah!" exclaimed Somerset. Him.
! | thought SO"
Sometimes at concerts they come
/ into my fingers" continued the boy.
/ Everything ] have practiced seems to
/ go right out Of them, and the nice ones
/ the ones | may not play-cOme in
| stead. There is this one. l call it faith
! Cr'S tune-he used to sQueal il out on
! the flute, mothers says. but he
, slipped from his undle's knee. and
! paused irresolutely between him and
! the DianO-"she does not like to hear
| it now. and the herr professor will
| not let me practice it. Might l play it
! very. very quietly, just once mother,
! for him and me-"
"FirA away" directed Captain SOM
! erset.
| Il won't have candles" murmured
| Hal, in a monotone: II can manage
without some. Now, this is fathers
! tune-he said he could hear it even if
was dead. He can hear me now,
uncle"
| Through the darkening room stole
| the mutiied notes Of the Dead March
! in Saul'-not a mere mechanical eX-
| ercise, not the triumphant result of
| long, weary "tune"-full of childish
| slips and mistakes--that the little play
! er's father had understood and liked.
the tune" the child believed father
could hear, even in the grave.
The man and child were left alone i'm
the tWilight-Mrs. Somerset had stolen
silently away. The air did not touch
her. but the inaccuracies Jared upon
her sensitive musical ear. Thank
heaven that the public could not hear
their little favOrito-Henri Jeune-
/ mangle a heavenly work like that!
| Then there was silence for a little
while in the music room-dead silence.
| The man by tn fire was lost in deep,
anxious thought; the boys fingers were
tired. quick sigh of childish weari-
ness and impatence. the drumming
of pair of restless heels against the
leg of the music stool. then a meek
| speech of apology.
That was from memory, uncle. and
you must excuse the mistake. The
! herr professor tells me that is very
| wrong indeed when / play it: I don't
know myself, All that he teaches me
! play very well, so You must pardon
| me for that"
Captain Somerset reused himself with
a grOan.
you poor little unnatural prig." he
| nlurmured, what on earth would
| Henry say if he knew"
Il don't know, | am sure" replied
| Henry's son politely, and with truth.
'But l must practice now, Uncle
Claude, for NV concert"