The suburban citizen., 1902-06-21
he Turned Her Picture
Tuward the Wall.
, " yHAT I am about to relate
3 BY Horace Eaton Walker.

" " years ago, a short time
after that popular song.
"He Turned Her Picture Toward the
Wall" came out. l was then living at
Branton, our family consisting of my
self, my wife and two children, Mat
tie, aged fifteen, and George, aged sew
enteen. We possessed an organ upon
which my daughter played, George
singing, and Mrs. Wilters and myself
coming in on the chorus in regular
country fashion.
was the musical enthusiast of the
family, and while l did pot like all the
songs then cXtant, when one did strike
me l Immediately mastered it. l went
into ecstacies over this particular song,
and whistled it in the woodshed,
hummed it in the parlor, sang it to
visitors, neighbors and friends. Many
of these took the fever; but mine was
especially malignant, and the song
haunted me for weeks after everybody
else had caught onto something new.
My wife casually mentioned an
asylum for lunatics several times n
day. But l still repeated the song, the
first thing on rising in the morning,
and the last thing on retiring at night.
Then she eXpostulated and ventured
to hope that 10 more popular songs
would come out for at least Il year. l
realized that my state was becoming
alarming. Something must be done,
and Immediately.
Mrs. Wilters," said, "the thing
shall be stopped"
But how, dear?" she queried wear
fly.
II shall lock up the organ"
Which l did; but the song still ran
in my head. At last collapsed was
i'll from an overdose of music. The
doctor said / would recuperate after
a few days of rest, but upon my be-
coming convalescent l must refrain
from all music; must not even sing
yankee Doodle" Ben Holt" or
MARY Had a Little Lamb"
Right in the midst of this mental
tribulation something happened. Mrs.
Wilters staggered into my bedroom one
morning, her eyes as large as saucers,
and exclaimed:
Sam Wilters, every picture in the
parlor is turned to the wallr'
yes" chimed in George, "and the or
gan is unlockedw
"And pa added Matte, "the organ
stops are open where you play, He
Turned Her Picture"
Instead of throwing me into a mental
fever, this information did the reverse
1t broke up the musical trend of my
thoughts.
Reverse every picture" l com
manded. Lock the organ and fetch
the key to me-"
was obeyed Then l said;
George, 90 and fetch my gun from
the attic"
"Oh!' gasped my wife.
"Yes, will sit here in bed, armed,
and at the first approach Of danger,
leap from it and shoot the person who
is perpeTatng this joke"
But you are too sick to think of
anything Of the kind" expostulated
my wife.
II shall need only to step from the
bed and fire. Pity if | cannot sing q
popular song. Wen see about It,"
1T will be murder" said Matte,
with fearful eyes.
I'm the first degree, too," cried
George severely.
1T won't be murder! It'll simply be
defense against a burglar. See?
They all saw; and as | was master OF
the house and thoroughly aroused to
the situation, it was decided that
should 90 on picket duty that night.
Mrs. Wilters, you will retire to the
chamber above / ordered at bedtime.
And. Matte, you can accompany your
mother. As for you, George, get a
club from the woodshed and become
a sort Of body guard to me-"
AS night set In the darkness Of the
rooms became intense. Not n flicker
Of light anywhere; just total darkness.
George sat in the parlor behind a case
Of books containing poetry, prose and
enough dictionaries 10 scare an ordi-
nary burglar out Of his wits. l sat bolt
upright in bed, my back resting against
the aeadboard, my trusty gun in my
| hands.
The clock struck one two three. The
sound Of the bell had scarcely ceased
when a loud noise came to my ears.
Striking a match. peeped into the
room where George was sitting. He
was fast asleep and his falling club
bad awakened me. lighted the lamp
and stared at the pictures.
George" / shouted.