The Vinita daily chieftain. [volume] (Vinita, Indian Territory [Okla.]) 1902-1913, 1903-08-31
m Press the Country Believes Bosus Report Consequence
VOICES OF THE NIGHT.
sounds Heard in the City in Summer.
When All the windows
Are Open.


Now are they heard again, minus a
Iew old ones, perhaps, but with as many
new ones added, said Mr.. Gozzleton, re-
lates the New York Sun; the myriad
voices OF the summer night, that come
to US at this season in the city, when
all the windows are open and people live
more or less out Of doors.
We hear now once more the talking
OF the people sitting on the steps across
the way, and the voices Of the folk sit
ting at their open windows. and the
sound Of the children playing in the
street.
Once more we hear the yearning
notes Of the ambitious violin player
whose aspirations so far exceed his art,
and the bif, biff. bang Of many pianos,
and the soaring and the deep descend
ing notes Of many singers.
And you hear the soft strumming Of
the gentle guitar, and the notes Of the
more metallic mandolin. And OCCASION
ally you hear some maternal voices CALI
ing:
Willie, you'll have TO come in, now
"All familiar sounds, and not un-
friendly to those long accustomed to
their annual recurrence.
"Of those that are missing one is the
sound Of the melancholy flute. | can
remember well when no neighborhood
summer night symphony would have
seemed complete without a flute COM
ing in now and then, but as a matter
OF fact haven't heard flute among
these summer night sounds for years.
| think the flute must have gone out
OF fashion; II we are not less sentimental
than we were we are less pensive, and
the flute was peculiarly pensive in
strument, one commonly played in soli-
tude.
Now. the fiddle is sympathetic, and
II may be sentimental, still. in all its
wailings, It has more or less Of vigor,
and we are likely to play the fiddle, not
alone, but with somebody, as with some
kind person struggling faithfully to
accompany us on the piano. dropping
whole bars and galIoping wildly to keep
up with us when we slip a cog or linger-
ing with dazed bewilderment over the
KEYS as we maunder, rapt. on the
strings. Yes, we still hear on summer
nights the chromatic yearning Of the
fiddle. but no longer now the flute.
Nor DO we hear in these days the
notes Of the once every season familiar
key bugle; and the singularly sharp and
frightfully fiat, the alternately violently
explosive and choking effects produced
by the amateur on that noble instrument
are sounds that ] miss greatly. But |
haven't heard a key bugle In my neigh
borhood for years.
"And the same Is true OF that ripely
mellow instrument the French norm. !
don't know when I have heard an ANA
teur playing on a French horn. The
French horn seems TO have gone, with
the key bugle. to join the melancholy
flute. A strange company.
"But, II we miss these, we have now
new sounds to take their places, the
chup. chug. chug. Of the hustling auto
scurrying through the block. and we
hear now the music Of the automatic
piano players-of many Of them. and the
sounds OF many Photographs, all pecul-
fairly modern.
"If some Of the old voices have gone,
new ones have come, and so tho grand
volume Is not decreased; II is greater
now. II anything. than ever-the chorus
Of the myriad voices Of the summer
night. 10 be heard at this season in the
city. when all the windows are Open.