The Greenville times. [volume] (Greenville, Miss.) 1868-1917, 1899-07-22

r To the fidilers
Z My DEAR FEILow-sAwyEES- ENpeu-
nee teaches Us that first impressions
are the most lasting Next TO the inn
D.. preSsionS which received from "A dog
,, wood sprout or twig of a weeping will
. low, when ! was a barefooted boy, are
.. the impressions which were made upon
IA my young mind and heart by the tid-
r dlers. The tunes they used 10 play got
q tangled in my memory and they are just
] as vivid there today as are the faces
= used 10 know and the incidents and
S happenings of the happy days gone
! by.
l can see Polk Scott and Sam Rowe
I just as plainly now as | actually saw
them when | was ten-year-old lad at
the old log schoolhouse that stood by
the bubbling spring. They played at
the exhibition at the close of our
school; and | have never heard any
sweeter music since. Sans big brown
whisllers rolled and tumbled in ecstacy
on his fiddle, as he rocked to and fro,
with half-closed eyes, and, with whiz-
ling bow, reyeled in the third heaven
of "Arkansaw Traveller" Folks black
mustache swayed and Topped like
ravens wings As he scared amid the |
| grandeurs of "Natchez Under the Hill" .
They We're the "Pegininis" of the /
mountains; they were the "Ole Bulls" .
/ of our humble society: they were the |
royal "Remenyis" of our rural, rollick-
/ ing festivities; they were big-hearted
and genial; they were noble fellows,
and SO Te all fddIers to this good day
| Their melodies were the echoes of ma
lures sweet voices. In every sweep of
the bow there was the drumming of a
pheasant or the cacKle of hen or the
call OF Bob White or the trili of a
thrush. Sometimes l could hear a
whip-poor-will sing; sometimes, a wild
goose quacll; and, panther yell; now
and then the cats would fight. and the
music was always mellow with moon
shine"
When | grew a little larger l used to
slip ont from under the smiling roof of
home, sweet home, and cut the
pigeon wing with the rosy-cheeked
mountain girls, until it seemed that nv
very soul was in my heels | still have
fond recollections of every fiddler who
played at the old-time country dance;
and when hear those sweet old tunes, :
even now it is difficult for me to keep =
my soul above my SC. ks.
So far as | am concerned. | am a
worshiper at the shrine of music The =,
classics of Mozart and Mendelssohn are =
grand and glorious to me, but | cannot :
be persuaded to turn my back on the
classics of the plain country fiddlers. \
The old country tunes were handed
down from the days of the Revolution,
and every one of them breathes the
spirit of liberty; every old jig is an echo p
from the tlintlock rifles and shrill flies t
Of Bunker Hill; every "hornpipe" is b
refrain from Kings Mountain; "Old W
Granny Rattletrap' is Declaration of f,
independence; Jennie, Put the Kittle a
IN, boils over with freedom; Jay p
bird Settin on a Swingin Limb" was Il
George Washington's 'favoright" and d
Gray Eagle was Thomas Jetferson's V,
masterpiece; Leather Brooches" was fl
he Marseilles hymn of the old heroes tt
Who lived in the days of Davy Crockett. ca
No wonder the fiddlers are so pa pc
riotic and brave. | never saw real, is
enuine fiddler who would not fight; til
nut, mind you, have quit fiddling
When I grew large enough to cast .,
heep's eyes at the girls, when love be- u
an to tickle my heart and the blood of ~
he violets got into my veins, / began to ~
raw the bow across the vibrant strings a. a.,
f the fiddle to give vent to my feelings, :,
nd poured my spirit out through my @,
myers by the bucRetful. l snapped ii'
pirit for smiles at the ratio of sixteen W
, one; | exchanged clogs for compli-
tents, and jigs for signs and senti- ="
rental EXPLANATIONS. No ordinary
lortal ever felt the raptures of fid-
Ter; the fiddle is his bride, and the riT
oneymoon lasts forever. wi
| tiddled and fiddled and | fddled, tn
ntil youth blossomed into manhood, sh
ad still | fddled and | fiddled. Poll do
clans sneered at me as a fiddler, but me
lie girls said it was no harm. and the thu
oys voted while | fiddled, and the fid- sw
lie won. There is always some old pc
'ur and tuneless hypocrite abusing un
i'd denouncing JUS fiddlers." l have TIN
card them say that they never saw ba
tdler who was any account, and | in
ave known good men who sincerely
slieyed that fiddlers were dangerous
communities. There never was a
eater error Of opinion. There is no ~
ore harm in wiggling the fingers than .pe
ere is in wagging the tongue and -
ere is a great deal more religion in a ~
,od, law-abiding fiddle than there is -
some folks who outlaw that divine W,
strument. There is infinitely more n
usic in it than there is in some hymns -
have heard sung by old dyspeptics w
no denounce it. Music is music, Po'
neither it be the laughter and song of u'
e fiddle or the melodies of the human "Pl
ice; music is the halleluiah Of the 'o''
ii, whether it comes through fiddle ~"
'ings or vocal chords. Happy is the ''o
me in which fddles and fddlers
'ell, and nearest to heaven is the II
urch where fiddlers and singers blend iok
cir music in hymns of praise to Al or
ghty God. tina
have heard cultivated musicians vow
Ugh at the country fiddler and call foul
tunes rag music;" but the law of boil
npensation governs in this realm, as to
Il as in every other, for the country just
dlers laugh just as heartily at the mea
1limest efforts of high-class mu- and