The Tupelo journal., 1903-04-24

ff TT may be that a flute is worse
L than a piano in the hands of an
unconscionable individual" l rumi-
rated. But then again no man can
eXpend on a flute more than one hour
at a time. Human lungs could stand
no mor But the piano offers a limit
less length of time in which to eX-
cruciate the ears and nerves of a
neXt-door neighbor.
"You say you signed a years lease
for these rooms?" L asked Harris.
Yes, sir; they seemed to agree
with your instructions, so | thought
] had better take them, as they are
downtown and in pretty good condi-
ton. You said in the French part of
town, sir"
so l did, Harris. They are very
good rooms and you've had them rem
ovated quite satisfactorily. The up
holsterer you employed knows his
business l remarked, looking around
at the really fine antique furniture
filling the high-ceilinged, spacious,
old-fashtoned rooms and the somber
but beautiful draperies, whose tones
chimed excellently well with the black
rosewood, dark mahogany and old
oak, which made up the furnishing
of my suite of rooms in the dilapi-
dated old French quarter of this
pleasant Southern city.
Its all right, Harris. Those brack-
cts and mantle ornaments are SUI
perb. I'm glad you had thing laid in
the bathroom and electric lights and
bells put around. l wish you had
found out about that musician, how
ever. Who is hep"
"He has a French name, sir. Mr..
ST. Julian Daubert. He plays in the
orchestra at the French opera. If |
had known about his living next door
l wouldn't have taken the rooms, sir.
When I heard of it / thought the walls
were so thick you wouldn't be an
noyed." Harris was serving the first
meal 1 vas enjoying in my new quar-
tiers, and while giving this explanation
a rhythmic running of scales came
family but audibly from somebody's
very nimble fingers over next door.
1T wouldn't be so loud" ventured
Harris, co~nsolingly, placing Roquefort
and coffee on the table, IF the glass
doors on the front piazza were shut.
But it seemed so springlike I thought
I'd better open them, sir"
Leave them alone" / interposed,
as Harris went through the drawing
room towards the pretty old-fash-
toned French windows opening on a
broad veranda, evidently intending to
close them.
The scales drifted into some won
6erful exercises at least l supposed
they were-then l recognized Men
delssohn, and by the time 1 had
lighted a cigar and was seated COM
fortably in an armchair by the side
If a wood fire in an open fireplace,
T was halfway recOnciled to Mr.. st.
Julian Daubert's music. His render
;ne and execution were astonishingly
good.
Another fear assailed me.
"Does he give lessons?" / inquired.
anxiously.
81 believe he does, sir" Harris adj
mitted, reluctantly.
Good Lord" | calculated in dis
may.
For having come to this good old
southern town to spend the winter
quietly compiling and classifying data
for a work / "a engaged on, l ex-
.pected to spend most of my mornings
and evenings in the study | had in
structed Harris to have fitted up for
me.
THAT was before ] was aware of the
musician next door. Well, if he gave
music lessons, playing beside Beetho-
ven and Bach by the hour, ! would
s;mply have to move out, that was all
there was to it.
And yet, these spacious old rooms,