Gov. Bob. Taylor's Tales Part 3

THE TWO COLUMNS.

Music wooes, and leads the human race ever onward, and there are two columns that follow her. One is the happy column, ringing with laughter and song. Its line of march is strewn with roses; it is hedged on either side by happy homes and smiling faces. The other is the column of sorrow, moaning with suffering and distress. I saw an aged mother with her white locks and wrinkled face, swoon at the Governor's feet; I saw old men tottering on the staff, with broken hearts and tear stained faces, and heard them plead for their wayward boys. I saw a wife and seven children, clad in rags, and bare-footed, in mid-winter, fall upon their knees around him who held the pardoning power. I saw a little girl climb upon the Governor's knee, and put her arms around his neck; I heard her ask him if he had little girls; then I saw her sob upon his bosom as though her little heart would break, and heard her plead for mercy for her poor, miserable, wretched, convict father. I saw want, and woe, and poverty, and trouble, and distress, and suffering, and agony, and anguish, march in solemn procession before the Gubernatorial door; and I said: "Let the critics frown and rail, let this heartless world condemn, but he who hath power and doth not temper justice with mercy, will cry in vain himself for mercy on that great day when the two columns shall meet! For, thank G.o.d, the stream of happy humanity that rolls on like a gleaming river, and the stream of the suffering and distressed and ruined of this earth, both empty into the same great ocean of eternity and mingle like the waters, and there is a G.o.d who shall judge the merciful and the unmerciful!"

THERE IS A MELODY FOR EVERY EAR.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE MID-NIGHT SERENADE.]

The mult.i.tudinous harmonies of this world differ in pathos and pitch as the stars differ, one from another, in glory. There is a style for every taste, a melody for every ear. The gabble of geese is music to the goose; the hoot of the hoot-owl is lovlier to his mate than the nightingale's lay; the concert of Signor "Toma.s.so Cataleny" and Mademoiselle "p.u.s.s.y"

awakeneth the growling old bachelor from his dreams, and he throweth his boquets of bootjacks and superannuated foot gear.

The peripatetic gentleman from Italy asks no loftier strain than the tune of his hand organ and the jingle of the nickels, "the tribute of the Caesars."

The downy-lipped boy counts the explosion of a kiss on the cheek of his darling "dul-ci-ni-a del To-bo-so" sweeter than an echo from paradise; and it is said that older folks like its music.

The tintinnabulations of the wife's curtain lecture are too precious to the enraptured husband to be shared with other ears. And in the hush of the bed-time hour, when tired daddies are seeking repose in the oblivion of sleep, the unearthly bangs on the grand piano below in the parlor, and the unearthly screams and yells of the budding prima donna, as she sings to her admiring beau:

[Ill.u.s.tration: (Sheet Music)]

"Men may come and men may go, but I go on 'for-ev-oor' 'ev-oor'

I go on 'for-ev-o-o-r' 'e-v-o-o-r'

I go on 'for-ev-oor.'"

It is a thing of beauty, and a "nightmare" forever.

MUSIC IS THE WINE OF THE SOUL.

Music is the wine of the soul. It is the exhileration of the palace; it is the joy of the humblest home; it sparkles and glows in the banquet hall; it is the inspiration of the church. Music inspires every gradation of humanity, from the orangoutang and the cane-sucking dude with the single eye gla.s.s, _up to man_.

There was "a sound of revelry by night," where youth and beauty were gathered in the excitement of the raging ball. The ravis.h.i.+ng music of the orchestra charmed from the street a red nosed old knight of the demijohn, and uninvited he staggered into the brilliant a.s.semblage and made an effort to get a partner for the next set. Failing in this, he concluded to exhibit his powers as a dancer; and galloped around the hall till he galloped into the arms of a strong man who quickly ushered him to the head of the stairs, and gave him a kick and a push; he went revolving down to the street below and fell flat on his back in the mud; but "truth crushed to earth will rise again!" He rose, and standing with his back against a lamp post, he looked up into the faces that were gazing down, and said in an injured tone: "Gentlemen, (hic) you may be able to fool some people, but, (hic) you can't fool me, (hic) I know what made you kick me down them stairs, (hic, hic). You don't want me up there--that's the reason!" So, life hath its discords as well as its harmonies.

There was music in the magnificent parlor of a modern Chesterfield.

It was thronged with elegant ladies and gentlemen. The daughter of the happy household was playing and singing Verdi's "Ah! I have sighed to rest me;" the fond mother was turning the pages; the fond father was sighing and resting up stairs, in a state of innocuous desuetude, produced by the "music" of old Kentucky Bourbon; but he could not withstand the power of the melody below. Quickly he donned his clothing; he put his vest on over his coat; put his collar on hind side foremost; b.u.t.toned the lower b.u.t.tonhole of his coat on the top b.u.t.ton, stood before the mirror and arranged his hair, and started down to see the ladies and listen to the music. But he stumped his toe at the top of the stairs, and slid down head-foremost, and turned a somersault into the midst of the astonished ladies. The ladies screamed and helped him to his feet, all crying at once: "Are you hurt Mr. 'Rickety'--are you hurt?" Standing with his back against the piano he exclaimed in an a.s.suring tone: "Why, (hic) of course not ladies, go on with your music, (hic) that's the way I always come down----!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: MR. "RICKETY."]

Two old banqueters banqueted at a banquet. They banqueted all night long, and kept the banquet up together all the next day after the banquet had ended. They kept up their banqueting a week after the banquet was over. But they got separated one morning and met again in the afternoon. One of them said: "Good mornin':" The other said: "Good evenin'!" "Why;" said one, "It's mornin' an' that's the sun; I've investigated the queshtun." "No-sir-ee," said the other, "You're mistaken, it's late in the evenin' an' that's the full moon." They concluded they would have no difficulty about the matter, and agreed to leave it to the first gentleman they came to to settle the question.

They locked arms and started down the street together; they staggered on till they came upon another gentleman in the same condition, hanging on a lamp post. One of them approached him and said: "Friend (hic) we don't desire to interfere with your meditation, (hic) but this gen'lman says it's mornin' an' that's the sun; I say it's evenin' an' that's the full moon, (hic) we respectfully ask you (hic) to settle the question."

The fellow stood and looked at it for a full minute, and in his despair replied:

"Gen'lmen, (hic) you'll have to excuse me, (hic) I'm a stranger in this town!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: AFTER THE BANQUET.]

THE OLD TIME SINGING SCHOOL.

Did you never hear the music of the old time singing school? Oh! who can forget the old school house that stood on the hill? Who can forget the sweet little maidens with their pink sun bonnets and checkered dresses, the walks to the spring, and the drinks of pure, cold water from the gourd? Who can forget the old time courts.h.i.+ps at the singing school?

When the boy found an opportunity he wrote these tender lines to his sweetheart:

"The rose is red; the violet's blue-- Sugar is sweet, and so are you."

She read it and blushed, and turned it over and wrote on the back of it:

"As sure as the vine clings 'round the stump, I'll be your sweet little sugar lump."

Who can forget the old time singing master? The old time singing master with very light hair, a dyed mustache, a wart on his left eyelid, and with one game leg, was the pride of our rural society; he was the envy of man and the idol of woman. His baggy trousers, several inches too short, hung above his toes like the inverted funnels of a Cunard steamer. His b.u.t.ternut coat had the abbreviated appearance of having been cut in deep water, and its collar encircled the back of his head like the belts of Jupiter and the rings of Saturn. His vest resembled the aurora borealis, and his voice was a cross between a cane mill and the bray of an a.s.s. Yet beautiful and bright he stood before the ruddy-faced swains and rose-cheeked la.s.sies of the country, conscious of his charms, and proud of his great ability. He had prepared, after a long and tedious research of Webster's unabridged dictionary, a speech which he always delivered to his cla.s.s.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SINGING MASTER DELIVERING HIS GREAT SPEECH.]

"Boys and girls," he would say, "Music is a conglomeration of pleasing sounds, or a succession or combernation of simultaneous sounds modulated in accordance with harmony. Harmony is the sociability of two or more musical strains. Melody denotes the pleasing combustion of musical and measured sounds, as they succeed each other in transit. The elements of vocal music consist of seven original tones which const.i.tute the diatonic scale, together with its steps and half steps, the whole being compromised in ascending notes and half notes, thus:

Do re mi fa sol la si do-- Do si la sol fa mi re do.

Now, the diapason is the ad interium, or interval betwixt and between the extremes of an octave, according to the diatonic scale. The turns of music consist of the appoggiatura which is the princ.i.p.al note, or that on which the turn is made, together with the note above and the semi-tone below, the note above being sounded first, the princ.i.p.al note next and the semi-tone below, last, the three being performed sticatoly, or very quickly. Now, if you will keep these simple propersitions clear in your physical mind, there is no power under the broad canister of heaven which can prevent you from becoming succinctly contaminated with the primary and elementary rudiments of music. With these few sanguinary remarks we will now proceed to diagnosticate the exercises of the mornin' hour. Please turn to page thirty-four of the Southern harmony."

And we turned. "You will discover that this beautiful piece of music is written in four-four time, beginning on the downward beat. Now, take the sound--sol mi do--All in unison--one, two, three, _sing_:

[Ill.u.s.tration: (Sheet Music)]

Sol sol, mi fa sol, la sol fa, re re re, re mi fa Re mi fa, sol fa mi, do do do-- Si do re, re re re, mi do si do, re do si la sol, Si do re, re mi fa sol la, sol fa mi, do do do."

[Ill.u.s.tration: BEATING TIME.]

THE GRAND OPERA.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE GRAND OPERA SINGER.]