The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1902-10-02

IERMs: Six Months 50 cents.
when Bill recited this essay on music.
1 repeat it word for word, as near as [
can remember it. 1t affected me great
ly at the time. believe wept during
the recital.
"Music," said Bill, sis a delusion.
With some exceptions, always remem-
ber that, my boy. Way back in the
SOS I was dealing faro in one of the
swellest little joints in this cultured
city. hadn't touched drop in eight
months, had nice bank roll of my
own and was consumed with desire
to settle down and get married. Oh
you can smile if you want to!
"One bright sunny afternoon 1 was
strolling down the line admiring the
shine on my new patent feathers when
my attention was attracted by music
which seemed to come from Mother
Ms. concert hall, near the corner of
Pitts and Greene streets. Now music
has ruined many good man. Where
is there man who, after he has joined
in the chorus of 'I'm your jamie just
the samie Mamie Riley'-I say where
is the one who went dig and say, Have
one with me?' Whatw
was obliged to interrupt Bill at this
point and threaten him with instant
death, for he insisted on singing the
song, just by way of illustration.
SWELL" he presently continued, "I
stepped down, thinking to stop min
ute or two and hear the latest song.
In those days every waiter in a concert
hall was an entertainer and did his
stunt on the platform when his turn
came. I was just in time to see one Of
the walters mount the platform. He
was fine looking Irish lad and was
cracking good singer. My boy, when
his melodious voice filled the hall with,
Last night I went down to the Sham
rock Hotel just to pay my respects to
McGinnis,' was wild him. -
"They all treated round in turn. Nc
Ginnis did the same. l bought my
first drink in eight months. But when
the lad wound up with, 'McGinnis he
was paralyzed; O'Brien couldn't see; 1
was drunk, but Finnegan was a d.
sight worse nor me'-when that hap
pened was ready money. No mis-
guided youth was ever so willing to
be separated from his money as was.
The feeling of sadness that swept over
me when I thought of all I'd lost in
eight months spurred me on.
During the next few weeks 1 heard
all the songs Of that period, from BE
True My Love- to Il had Fifteen Dol
lars in My Inside Pocket not to men
tion 'Arrah Go On You're Only Fooliu'.'
Every time [ thought of the eight
months hunted up another professor
of music. I kept this up until my fnan-
cial condition was causing me con-
siderable trouble. My former friends
avoided me; bartenders that had jollied
me during my millionaire trance met
my addresses with: I'll give you one,
but can't trust you.' You know what
that rceans. Even Anabel Ryan, the
pride of my heart, who was lady of
the bedchamber in the Revere Hotel
at that time, refused me the loan of a
dime. A dime, mind you'll And to
show you how fat .mocks and derides
you after landing 70. high aai Cry
after making my way back to my latest
headquarters, was greeted by a curly
haired youth who was singing, 1T
Don't Seem Like The Same Old Smile.'
l sank so low was obliged to leave
the beautiful city by night without
money or price. Ieven landed in Hobo
ken.
"And there's moral to this, nv
boy"
My sole object in reviewing this tale
of Bills is the hope that it may remain
in your mind and at some future time
deter you from entering some gilded
hall from which the sounds of, aAll I
want is My Black Baby Back" may
reach you. J.A. ID.