Evening star., 1929-07-01

(Jud Brownin goes to New York and
hears the great pianist RubenStein.
Returning, he Is urged to give an ac-
count Of the recital, in his own words.
and complies with the following yarn.)
Well, sir, he had the blamedeSt. big
gest, cattycornerdest pianner you ever
| laid eyes on; somethin' like a distracted
billiard table on three legs. The lid was
| histed, and mighty well it was. IT 1t
hadn't been, he'd a tore the intire In
sides clean out, and scattered 'em to the
| four winds of heaven.
When he first set down he 'peared to
| keer mighty little bout playin', and
| wisht he hadn't come. He tweedle-
! leedled little on the TRIBE, and twoo-
dle-oodle -oodled some on the base-jest
| foolin' and boxin' the things Jaws for
bein' In his way. And says to man
| settin' next to me, s. I, What sort OF
fool playin' is that9" And ne says,
| ''Heishi" But presently his hands COM
menced chasin' one mother up and down
| the keys, like paSsel of rats scamperin'
| through garret very swift. Parts OF 1t
was sweet, though, and reminded me of
a sugar squirrel turnin' the wheel OF a
candy cage.
NOW" I says to my neighbor, "he's
! shown Off He thinks he's a-doin' OF 1t,
| but he amt got no idee-no plan of
nothin'. If he'd play me up tune OF
some kind or other I'd But my
neighbor says, Heishl" very impatient.
| I was Just about to git up and go
| home, bein' tired of thatf oolishness,
when / heard o little bird waking up
away of in the woods, and calling
| sleepy-like to his mate, and j looked up
| and see that Rubenstein was begmnin,
| to take some interest in his business.
and set down agin. The music began
| to make pictures for me faster than you
| could shake q stick; to tell tales like the
story books, and to start all sorts OF
| feeling's--it Just toted me like was a
| child wherever it pleased, and showed
me all kinds of things that is and
| things that isn't and couldn't never be.
| It was the peep o. day. The light
! come faint from the east, the breeze
| glowed gentle and fresh, some more
| birds walked up in the orchard, then
| some more in the trees near the house,
and all begun singin' together. People
begun to stir, and the gal opened the
| shutters. Just then the first beam OF
| the sun fell upon the blossoms; leetle
| more and it techt the roses on the
bushes, and the next thing it was broad
day. The sun fairly blazed: the birds
sang like they'd split their little throats; !;
| all the leaves was movin' and naShin'
| diamonds of dew, and the whole wide
4 world was bright and happy as o king.
! Seemed to me like there was good
breakfast in every house in the land,
and not sick child or woman any
where. 1t was fine mornin'.
| Presently the wind turned; 1t begun
| to thicken up, and kind of gray mist
come over things; get low-spirited
| Directly, Then a silver rain begun 10
| fall. I could see the drops touch the
ground; some flashed up like long pearl
earrings and the rest rolled away ike
round rubies. It was pretty, but melan-
choly. Then the pearls gathered them
selves into long strands and necklaces,
and then they melted into thin silver
streams running between golden gravels,
and then the streams joined together at
| the bottom of the hill, and made
brook that flowed silent, except that you
could kinder see the music, specially
when the bushes on the banks moved
as the music went along down the val
ley. I could smell the flowers IN the
meadow.
But the sun didn't shine. nor the
birds sing: 1t was foggy day, but not
cold. The most curious thing, though
was the little white angel boy. like you
see in pictures; that run ahead OF the
| music brook, and led 1t IN and one, away
out of the world where no man ever was
Il never was, certain. could see that
boy Just as plain as 1 see you. AHeh
the moonlight came. without any sun
set and Shone on the graveyaros,
where some few ghosts lifted their
hands and went over the wall. and be-
tween the black sharp-top trees splen-
did marble houses rose up, with fne
ladies In the nt-up windows, and men
that loved 'em, but could never get
nigh 'em, and played on guitars under
the trees and made me that miserable
could q cried, because wanted to love
somebody, I don't know who, better
than the men with guitars did.
Then the sun went down, 1t got dark,
the wind moaned and wept like a lost
child for its dead mother, and could
a got up then and thar and preached a
better sermon than any ever listened
to. There wasn't thing in the world
left to live for, not blame thing; and
yet didn't want that music to stop
one bit. It was happier 70 be miser-
able than TO be happy without being
miserable. / couldn't understand 1t.
hung my head and pulled out my hand
kerchief, and blowed my nose loud tn
keep from cryin'. My eyes is weak
anyway. I didn't want anybody to be
again at me a-snivelin', and it's no.
bodys business what do with my
nose. It's mine. But some several
, glared at me, as mad as Tucker.
Then, all Of 9 sudden, old Ruben
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