Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1908-05-29
CANARIES, ANYWAY.
..Oh. | love mnsic,, he cried

7 ny ode III Che otneT-Wltn rosy -laceu
admiration she looked at him, eyes
sparkling, hands clasped and her lips
slightly parted in the very breathless-
ness of her regard
All, yes,' said he, "Ah, yes The
blaring of the brasses and the signing
of the woods! Would you have melan-
choly? 1t is the breathing of the flute.
Would you have triumph? Oh, listen
to the comets tones! So could | go
through all the emotions, and oh, the
tona,s, the cadenzas, the minims, the
ritardo and the sudden, sudden stop;
the silence! Ali"
He paused, his eyes glowing on va
cancy. He made a dreamy, graceful
gesture and looked at her from the cor
ner of his eyes, drinking in her admira
ton and absorbing all the tribute of
her pantomime.
"And so do Il" she cried.
Impulsively he held out his hand and
impulsively she took it.
I'VE will love music all our lives"
she whispered, "all our -together!"
Suddenly then his glowing look van
ished and over his features there passed
an expression of inquiry, fear and
doubt. Gently he sought to withdraw
his hand, but she held it tightly, press
ing it with silent declaration OF love
and esteem and letting him know by the
soft engagement and relaxation of her
grasp that when it came to music she,
too, was there with fond and true
regard for the most beautiful of all the
arts and the Interpretation of great
souls long dead; and that when it came
to rhapsodies she could rhapsodize, and
when it came to passages of sadness
she could weep, but that taking one
thing with another it was, it was the
twiddly bits, the twiddly bits, the twid
dly bits; oh, yes, it was the twiddly
bits that stole her heart away.
yes, yes" she whispered, ''all our
lives-together!"
He looked at her then with the mute
ness of entreaty, preserving the atti-
tude Of formality, edging away from
her so that their clasped and extended
arms grew taut and tight, resembling
thus the characteristics of his smile, but
as for her she beamed upon him sweet
ly, holding his hand as though it were
treasure and she the treasurer, or
better yet, as though it were the para
phernalia of coniurer from which she
was about to draw yards of silk and
satin and linen and other fabrics of
the loom; stores of food and provision;
soup, fish, roasts, game, vegetables, gra-
vies, cheese and pie; boards of pin mon
ey; crisp bills of yellow and green, and
thinking coins of gold-the whole to be
performed to the accompaniment of
sweeteTt strains of music, lovely music,
ethereal music the music that they
loved and loved so WELL
Every summer" she began in low,
vibrating tones, we can go abroad and
listen to the music in the cradle of the
art, Italy, Germany, France together!
When the music swells our souls will be
lifted into the infinite, and when the
grand chords sound we will thrill in a
shuddering ecstasy. Bayreuth, Paris,
Milan, oh, how I have longed for them,
and now we will see them, dear-te
gether!"
Now look here-look here"-he be-
gan.
"Or we can subscribe to the operas
here instead!" she cried. Garden. Ca
russo. -tet-tet-whateve her name
is Oh, how l long to hear her sing.
Well have a nice little automobile, one
of those that's all closed in, and We'll
90 and see them altogether! You can
invite your friends at the bank, too, and
We'll give opera parties"
She patted his hand, and inwardly he
groaned and cursed the fate that had
led him to mislead her into thinking
that he was the mainstay and bulwark
of the bank where he daily added long
items of figures, in Ledger: Deposits
A-G." And, seeing that he was still 81
lent and unhappy and gave no answer
Il IL I, 1ol, CHI HrSa h
er and lower key.
"An acknowledgement" she ex-
claimed. Il would much rather have
she laughed. "What fun! Dear me!
And, anyhow, the music is the thing.
The rhythm and the sweep of it, it's
manifold moods of joy, its woes, it's
passions! All, mel"
Il don't like the operas" he grum-
bed, his eyes anguished and his feet
shutting on the carpet. Il hate them.
I have always hated them from a child.
Now, look here. | think there's some
misunderstanding
''Ah!" she cried II know what it is
you like! I know! It's the concerts at
the seashore-in the pavilions-on the
sand. And so do |, dear, and SO do [!
Oh. to sit on the beach, heart to heart
and hand in hand, to hear the strains
of harmony that mingle with the moan
ing of the tide!''
She gaZed at him with a sentiment
profound, and she looked at him mer-
rily, swinging his hand and arching her
brows at him until in his innermost
soul he muttered, Hang it, she isn't so
bad!" But aloud he said, Il don't go
away in the summer
Il have always said," she cried, de-
lightedly, that there is no place in the
summer like the city. No, sir! No
where! And We'll have one of those pi
ano players, dear, and a collection of
the best old classics, and, oh, what hap
Ply, happy hours we'll spend together!
Bach! Beethoven! Etude All, l feel
so happy"
Swinging his hand again, pressing it
with affection the while, she began,
Dinna ask me if / love ye,
Truth l daurna tell
And then not only did she swing his