THE MUSICIAN

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 73, Issue 441, 5 December 1930, Page 2

THE MUSICIAN

In from the hens and bees he came, into the tulle whitewashed cottage, and so into the one room which Was his home. For one second he sal with hands poised over the keys of the piano, then into the silence of the room poured such melody as made the douce framed people stare down in placid alarm. His worklike hands they could understand and appreciate, but not the execution of these strange beautiful melodies, which seemed so far removed from the day of honest toil. On into the quiet stillness of evening he played; played while the feet of the village folk passed from church to home; played while the birds, with final cheepings and flutierings, settled into their cosy nests, and the voices of the village children subsided into the general peacefulness. From Mendelssohn s dainty little tunes to the more alluring Indian love lyrics, and from Beethovens sad and haunting tones to the majestic roll of Lohengrin's Wedding March—what wide fields he ranged. Into the little cottage came all the pomp and grandeur of cities, or the calm beauty of lakes in moonlight, or the song of trees a-whispering to a long white road. Tragedies, laughter, song and tears ran their full gamut in this magic hour. From the small windows framed in roses of deep red and pink could be seen the quiet green fields stretching away to gently sloping hills, with their liny rivulets bathed in evening's glow. Now and then when the music sank lo a whisper, the deep lowing of cows, and the tinkling call of the curlews mingled till lost in another crescendo of sound. As a fitting finale came "The Angel’s Serenade,” and it was as if white-robed denizens of the heavens carried the silvery notes up into the heart of the sunset itself, there to flower till night laid them to rest. As the last note passed away, the sounds of evening took up the tale, and the roses whispered to each other in the breeze, telling of the Wonders they had seen and heard. And the musician tended them and watered them, till night came down softly over hill and glen, luring the roses and their tender to the deep repose of sleep.