The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1897-03-18
Stories of an inland State.

| The great musician toddled up the
| street leaning heavily on his cane Peo-
pie who had known him years before and
despised him stopped and gaped- But the
slight pleasure at the welcome to the town
had faded away. He did not care TO speak
and he did not, passing them all by indlf-
| ferently.
He stood at last by the little stairs where
he had often mounted to his room" when
the town refused contemptuously to cab
it his office when a man who played
the piano was not of sufficient importance
to have an office
His sign was not hanging, but law
yer's in its place. He had no desire TO
see the room where he had been abused
and starved and insulted.
He turned around and looked upon the
respondent sign OF Professor Rego. 1t had
not been removed The gold Of the letter
ing had scaled off and the sign was dim
ard dusty.
A great joy filed the musician. Pro-
fessor Castillo RegoI The man who had
driven him forth with a blow, driven him
forth, starving. helpless. bleeding, friend
less, driven him forth to fame, riches and
comfort,
All, how in that moments reflection he
loved his benefactor, and how old enemies
turn in time to be our greatest friends.
The feeble musician beat his cane on
the sidewalk and said quite audibly:
81 shall go and see the professor. I
shall go and see him.
He smiled gently and added:
"And thank him."
The sunlight shot down the broad
street, built in anticipation of congested
metropolitan traffic which had never
come. Burr with his cane stumping at
his side again crossed over. And as the
rays of the sun fell upon him his memory
carried him back when he crossed there
before with a mind enfeebled from a lack
OF nourishment and decrepit gait, and
as he toddled on he almost thought he
was again making the trip to whip the
professor"
He stopped midway in the great street
and looked about him. Was it indeed true
that he was Burr, Burr the great must
clan, the pet of the artistic, the cultured
and the rich, the god Of thousands. the
iGol of the musicians of a hemisphere?
Was it he who had been feted and wined
and dined and pampered? Was it he VINO
was so great that his snubs were remem-
bered pleasantly as souvenirs and his
boorishness as the righteous displeasure
with inferior worshipers? Was it he who
bad riches he did not care for and, above
all, recognition Of supremacy? Was this
Burr the great, after all, or was it Burr
the despised man music teacher, deserted,
abandoned and starved, crossing the
street to whip the professor, and was all
this greatne merely a dream of his dis
ordered brain? Had years passed? Or had
but a second?
Then the man thought of Clara Drew,
the woman he loved. Had he dreamed of
her all these years In his music as wait
ing fer him, pure, angelic, faithful? Or
had he dreamed of her but for a second?
Had she not been at his room" a moment
before, come on an errand of charity? Ali
1t might be so! He tried TO shake it Of
but the impression would not go.
Professor Castillo Rego, older and more
rubicund, gazed in establishment from an
upper window and then disappeared.
Burr did not knock, but walked into the
office. A child sat at the piano, little
girl with larg blue eyes and pink cheeks.
you playing? A sonatina? Yes. By
The great musician closed the door and
leaned against it. What had he come
fer? To whip the professor or to thank
him? He was quite confused. HIS mini
was quite dull. He placed his hand to his
head.
HE isn't H." said the little girl. Hes
gene OUT
The professor" asked Burr.
The child nodded
Are there many men music teachers
here in this town. my little lass?" asked
Burr
"Only one-the professor"
mo man named Burr?"
mo, sir"
Burr laughed loudly and the child look
ed upon him in alright.
Come, my pet said Burr, what are
you playing? A sensation? Yes. BY
Kuhlau. And is 1t very hard? 1t IS OF
course. This is your lesson hour, I am
sure. II you are held over you cannot
go dower-picking. Let me teach you.
Now this. All. That bad third finger.
Raise it so. Softly now, always softly.
There is no noise IN music. 1t is always
music, never noise. Lightly again.
Smoothly always. Now softly. but strong
ly See the ST. That means strongly,
not loudly-rot noise
So he taught the wondering child
Now, my dear, would you like to hear
me play 1t for you?''
The wondering child nodded.
But the fower-picking. I had forgot
ten that. I will play you Mr.. Kuhlau's
adagio alone and then will let you co.
There was pause.
Listen. my child
He led her from the seat and placed her
in a chair and began to play.
The child bent forward. her eyes dream
ing. What strange piano was this. and
what music? How it sang and sang and
sang. This could not be the dreadful SON.
at;na- She was crying. She did not know
that.
The door opened and she had forgotten
the music, the wonderful music.
II there wasn't the pudgy Professor Re
go as white as a sheeti How softly he
closed the door. Professor Rego closing
a door SOFTLY Impossiblei Surely she
was dying II not, then what?
And now Professor Rego uptoed across
the carpet, still pale as death and breath
ing as if he were going to burst with the
of ii. His red eyes were fixed
OF tnc man who was playing. Was he
going to kill him? II he were not, why
did he look so strange? The logic of the
little mind reverted to the sudden de-
parture Rego had taken just before the
stranger entered. Surely the professor
was going TO kill him!
The baby reached nervously for the arms
vf the chair and bent forward, her eyes
starting from the sockets. Still the sad
music rang in her soul.
The professor surely ala not see her
only the slight form at the piano.
Now the professor was behind the mu-
stefan. He raised his hands above his
head and wrung them. The child expected
a crisis and put her chubby fists over her