Told by Readers

Auckland Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 78, 2 April 1932, Page 2 (Supplement)

Told by Readers

/ ORIGINAL STORIES UNDER THiS HEADING ARU INVITED FOR OUR FORTNIGHTLY COMPETITION.

THE OLD VIOLINIST. (By Jsoelle Macdonald, aged 14 years, 11, Bassett Road, Remuera,) Just a song at twilight, When the lights are low; And tlie flickering shadows, Softly come and go— In the shadowy light of the dying sunset an old man sat on an oldfashioned three-legged stool under a large stately elm tree. On either side of him were two children—brother and sister. As Antonio Ganelli took up his violin and started playing, the look in their eyes changed from the mischievous one which they usually wore, to one which was soft and far away. Their old grandfather, as lie lightly touched tlie strings, looked lovingly down at them, and smiled, "Ah, they still love the old music," he thought as he played on. As the last strains of "Love's Old Sweet Song" died away over the still garden, Carl, the eldest of the two, sat up suddenly. "Oh, grandfather, do teach me to play the violin like you." "My dear Carl," the old face lit up as he thought of former years. "It took forty years' patience and practise to be the violinist I am now. I don't think you would have liked to go through all I have had to." "Do tell us a story, please grandpa," Baid Carl and Maria together. "Run and get my pipe, Maria, then I might tell you about a boy I once knew." So Maria, who knew what lovely stories he could tell, jumped up and ran into the house as quickly as her little legs would carry her. So Antonio Ganelli leaned back against the trunk of the elm, crossed his legs, puffed away at his pipe for a minute, and then began:— "About sixty long years ago there lived a boy called Benjamin Taylor. He lived with his parents—two hard-work-ing people, who worked in a factory and received barely enough wages to live on. This Benny used to work for a grocer, running messages, etc., but . one day, when he was taking some eggs to Mrs. Smith, he happened to pass an old woman who was playing the violin in the street, and he became so absorbed in her playing that he forgot all about Mrs. Smith's eggs, and the grocer and the money he had to take home to his parents. In fact he forgot everything except that he wanted to play the vio-l lin.

" 'Please teach me the violin,' he said to the old woman. She looked at himin a puzzled way; it seemed so strange that a ragged-looking boy of 1 about fifteen should ask her to teach him, but she said, 'If you will come to be my child I will teach you.' Benny, in this wild moment, said he would, not even thinking of the trouble and worry it would cause his parents. "So off the two went down a little dusty narrow side road till they came to a little old broken-down cottage crammed up against an old warehouse. In this house Mrs. Strang (for that was the woman's name) lived a lonely and unhappy life. For she had lost both her son and her husband. The house was quite comfortable inside, and Benny thought he was going to be quite happy. Every day he looked after the house while Mrs. Strang went out to play, and then in the evening she would give him lessons on her violin, for, of course, he had none of his own.

"Of course, all this time Benny's parents and the police liacl been looking for him. Although tliey searched nearly everywhere they could not find him. So at last they gave up searching for the lost hoy, never even thinking that he was now the child of Mrs. Strang.

"All went well with Benny until one misty, wet evening Mrs. Strang came in all damp and coughing hard. Benny put her to bed on tho sofa and sat down beside her.

" 'Benny,' she said softly, 'my time is up. I must go the Father who loves me,' and she closed her eyes, but suddenly opened them again. 'Beni(.y,' she gasped, pointing to the violin, 'for you,' and she drew her last breath as the clock struck six o'clock. And there was Benny, a lonely little boy without any friends to comfort him, or at least he hail, but he was too proud to go to them. He did not know what was the best thing to do, but he went in next door and told Mrs. Strang's niece, and she, being an old busybody, who always poked her nose into X)ther people's business, came over and told Benny that she liad first right to the house, and turned him out with the old violin and nothing more.

Poor Benny, how he did long to have a. home on this cold winter's night, but he was so proud that he refused to go back home,, and so he started on his journey.

"I shall not tell you about the things that happened to him on this journey, as it would take too long, but at tiie

end of three years he found himself in Italy. He had saved a little money, and he was now trying to get into one of the big orchestras. But it was all very well trying, and try as he would ho could not even get into a smaller one. Then one day, as he was walking down one of the main streets with his violin, he heard a voice behind him saying:

" r Young map, I have been watching you very carefully. I have seen you go into the orchestra managers often, and I have seen you come out again, with not a very happy face, I am afraid. I am Rliogastien, and I want to hear you play.' "Benny's heart gave a wild leap when he heard lie was going to play in front of the world's most famous violinist, Rliogastien. As they walked along Benny related all his adventures to liiin, and he seemed most interested. When tliey got to Hat Benny opened liis old worn case, feeling rather ashamed, but as he brought the violin out and gave it to Rhogastien to tunc for him, Rhogastien said: 'Boy, do you know what you are handing me? Why, this is a genuine Stradivarius violin.' Benny gasped. He had often heard about Strads, but never had he thought that he played 011 one every day.

"As he drew his bow lightly over the strings of the opening chord of Bach's Concerto, Rhogastien's face changed. He leaned forward, looking wonderingly at Benny. But Benny's thoughts were only of his music, and he had forgotten where he was, and. who he was playing to. From Bach's Concerto he went on to his own compositions, and as the last notes died away lie turned and looked at Rliogastien. He was still far away in the clouds, but he soon came down to earth again, and, with a beaming face, he said: 'Benny, you're a genius.' Benny started suddenly;- he recognised something in that voice which he had heard so often when a child; he looked up quickly.

" 'Why, it—it's dear papa,' he cried, and, half crying and half laughing, they embraced one another, and his father told him how lie. had been the wonderful Rhogastien before he was married, but when he married his wife was jealous of his music, so he changed his name. When Mrs. Taylor died he had nothing' left to do but to go back to his rausie again, as he had lost his job at the factory. "So Benny took lessons from his father, and ten years later he was holding an audience spellbound, not under the name of Benny Taylor, but Antonio Ganelli." "Why, grandpa, it was you!" cried Carl. . "Yes, it was, my boy." "Grandpa, why don't you play to great audiences now?" said Maria, wonderingly. "Because, little one, people nowadays don't enjoy my old-fashioned music. They just like the jazz, as they call it, and what is real music is just nonsense to them. Ah, but the old music is the best. Now run along to bed, because I hear your mother calling you."

"Grandpa, we always love your music, so you still have a little audience, don't you? Thank you so much," said the children, jumping up. "We have enjoyed it so," and after kissing their grandfather good-night, they left the old violinist to his pipe in the dusk under the shadowy branches of the old elm tree.