Novel Amusement.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 994, 20 March 1891, Page 5

Novel Amusement.

The market for antiques is variable. They command prices all the war from their weight in gold to the ordinary value of second-hand furniture, according to the taste or eccentricity of the buyer. An eminent artist, who bought an old-fashioned piano not long ago, has had an experience which illustrates this. He had paid the dealer in antiques £3 for the piano, and a 9 a model it lias been worth that amount to him; as a source of amusement it has been worth considerably more. Soon after the piano was delivered Mr L , the artist, waß entertaining some friends, when the door was opened, and a voice announced: ‘ Mr Qiltley’s carriage is at the door, sir. He sent me up to say he will give you £5 for that piano, sir.’ * I don’t want it,’ said Mr L , carelessly. A few minutes later the coachman reappeared to say, ‘ He’ll give £6. ‘ No,’ said Mr L . absently. Soon the door opened again, and this was the message, ‘ He’ll give you £8 for your piano.' * I can’t make any such bargain 1’ exclaimed Mr L , with rising indignation and surprise. * How many times does ho want to be told ?’ he asked, as the door closed on the would-be purchaser. 5 Well,’ someone remarked, ‘you haven’t said yet that you will not Bell the piano. He thinks you bought it as a speculation, and are artfully leading him on to offer a big price for it.’

Evidently he was right, for presently the door was opened half way, and, as if the invisible Giltiey had denounced Mr L. ——as *of course, a poor, struggling artist, but very mercenary,’ the coachman cast a lofty, patronising glance at him, and said : ‘ If you want £9, sir, Mr Giltlev will give it to you, but he thinks it a great advance.’ This time Mr L ’s reply was calculated to make it sufficiently dear that a large fortune could not buy his piano. One day, two or three weeks later, when ho was painting at his easel, the door of the studio opened, and there was an exclamation, * Yes, there it is 1 That’s it !’ and a lady entered. ‘That’s it, of course,’ she said. * Well, its not what I want.’

She carefully examined the piano. ‘ No, it won’t do. I shan't take it. It isn’t what I expected,’ slie announced. As an experiment, Mr L , whom she had hardly glanced at, murmured, ‘£loo.’ ‘ Really ! £IOO is more than I’d any idea of. Anyhow, it doesn’t suit mo. No, I shan’t take it. It’s no use to urge it. I don’t want it. However’—reflecting and walking slowly around the piano— ‘ I don’t think I can do any better. And if you don’t think £9O would .be enough, perhaps we can arrange it for £IOO, and ’ ‘ Madam,’ said Mr L , ‘ the piano is not for sale. ‘ I don’t know who sent you here. If anyone told you I was a dealer in antiques ’ but after the first words she scarcely heeded him, and walked out, still eyeing the piano sternly, and murmuring, • I must look elsewhere. It’s not what I want.’ — Cassell’s Saturday Journal.