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'— * Yes, I s'pose it's real music—it's a mighty • heap of sound, With the treble way up yonder an' the bass down underground, With the demi-semiquavers an' the tinklin'of the keys, An' a fuss like wind a-roarin' through the ' branches o J the trees. An' ye say that Wagner wrote it, an' ter* hear it is a boon I But, somehow, the feller never seems ter overtake the chune, . ThougH his fingers run like lightnin' an' he twists upon his stool, An' ruffles his ha'r until ho looks a orful fool; , ' An' somehow I miss the feelin' that I • . allers uster feel, That was sweet until it hurt me f'om mer head down termer heel,— That 'ud make mer eyes git misty an' mer mouth ter twitch an' smile, — When I listened ter Mirandy playin' "' ■" Mary uv Argyle." Why, ter hear Mirandy playin' was ter see the water run Like a streak o' shimn' silver jes a-spark- . lin' in the sun. An' up above the medder ye could hear a . thousan' birds A-singin' jes as easy as ye hear me talk . these words; Ye could fa'rly smell the early blooms . upon the" apple trees, An' ye owned a fine plantation, an' much money as ye please. Lord, how ye loved yer neighbor, an' ' never wist no harm Terhim about' thelawin' 'cause his fence run on yer farm ; An 1 .the- milk o' human kindness kep' a- ': fldwiri' far an' free, Ah* eve'ything about the world was like it : ' ought ter be, Tell ye kinder seemed in heaven, peart ; an' happy, all the while That ye listened ter Mirandy playin' " Mary uv Argyle." Well,' I s'pdHe I am ole-fashioned, an' it >f1 would ii' hardly do Per him ter play the music that I useter • cotton to. These town-folks would n' keer ter hear about the "hunter's horn," Nor 'bout the mavis singin' out " his lovesong ter the morn;" So I'll set an' listen quiet while the feller bangs away, • An' I'll 'low that his planner beats a in- - jineany day ; But it ain't mer style o' music—an' with all mer due respex Ye can say ter Mister Wagner, when ye i- chance ter see him nex', That the loudes'fuss ain't allers what is certain sho' ter please, Nor the bes' musicianer, the one that tries ■ to bust the keys. ■An' though I have no doubt but he's s , social sort o' man, I would n' walk a squar' ter hear the bes thing f'om his nan'; But oh' if she was livin' yet, I'd foot ii forty mile, Jester listen ter Mirandy playin' " Marj avArgle." James Lindsay Gordon. The Century.

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AT THE CONCERT., Ashburton Guardian, Volume VII, Issue 2454, 30 June 1890

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AT THE CONCERT. Ashburton Guardian, Volume VII, Issue 2454, 30 June 1890