The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser. (Upper Marlborough, Md.) 1882-1925, 1903-05-22

your organ is a failure, your music is
Heavenly. Stay with me, I pray you,
yet awhile"
"My organ is not failure; it is the
one triumph of my life"
"But no one can play upon it..
"One day someone will, and then"
"Well, we will say no more about it.
Come, supper is ready" and he led the
way indoors.
Next morning the Man in Blue was
missing. We were sorry for his disap-
pearance, but soon forgot all about
him, the festival being at hand. Gluck
had promised to come, and we we're
anxious to know with whom he would
stay. Then Bach arrived, and soon
after Graun, whose genius alone in
spired his lovely melodies, and with
him came those inseparable friends,
Furch and Hasse. From Hamburg
came Gassmann and Telemann. Few
of you, l dare say, have ever heard Of
these composers, and yet, believe me,
you are more familiar with their melo-
dies than you imagine. Many of the
popular tunes you now admire l heard
in my youth fresh from the brain of
their original composers, and free from
the twirls and shakes clumsily added
to disguise their true origin. These
illustrious persons were as simple and
transformations in manner as it is pos
sible to be. They assembled in St.
Cecilia's hall, and l had the privilege
of assisting at the rehearsals. | often
passed hours listening to their long
discussions on harmonies, fugues, scales
and chords.
One night Gluck played for the first
time portion of his Iphigenia, and on
another Bach enchanted us by a per-
formance of his delighted Preludes.
Bach, somehow or another, took a
fancy to me. He had observed the
marked attention with which listened
to the remarks of the different COM
posers and to their music. He asked
me my name, and who my father was,
and, growing bold, related not only
all about myself, but also the story of
my friend in blue.
can organ no one can play upon!'
exclaimed the great composer. swell,
that's singular"
"But am sure you can."
"Why?"
because l am certain that the man
who made the organ is great musi-
clan although he cannot play upon it
himself, and thoroughly understood
what he was about when he attempted
to mend it. He plays the violin like
an angel"
Gas we'll as l do?" asked Graun.
l hesitated and hung my head. l
did not dare say EYES," and yet I
could not say "No."
"Speak up my boy; always tell the
truth"
HE plays better than you, think,
sir, but then be always plays out in
the woods, and music sounds better
there than in room."
"True-so it does"
"My masters" said at last, after
some hesitation, "will any of you in
your charity try the organ. The vii
lage is not far distant. You will
thereby help this poor man."
~ will 60 myself" answered Bach,
next Sunday. But say nothing about
it to anyone, only to your friend in
order to insure his presence in the
church.
I gladly promised to carry out the
illustrious composers request.
On leaving the St. Cecilia hall that
evening-it was Friday-to my sur
prise almost the first person met was
the Man in Blue. Hidden in the court
yard of the hall, he had been listening
to the music, and was in a state of
nervous excitement and enthusiasm
which quite alarmed me. At first l
hesitated to tell of Bach's intention,
but at last did so. He received the
news in manner l little expected.
He made no demonstration, but fol-
lowed me in silence until we were in a
lonely part of the town-a little square,
in the center of which grew two or
three trees. Here he paused, and, fall
ing on his knees, prayed earnestly.
The moon shone down upon his up
lifted face, and it seemed almost beau
tiful, so great was the expression it
bore of earnest devotion and gratitude.
When be had finished his prayer, he
embraced me in silence and we parted.
Sunday arrived, and at an early
hour I started for the VILLAGE chnrch