MY MUSICAL EXPERIENCE.

Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser, Volume 3, Issue 277, 14 March 1879, Page 2

MY MUSICAL EXPERIENCE.

I do not like the cornet. If I may be allowed to express my opinion upon it— but no, I will not; there is not sufficient profanity in the English language. On the other band, Georgiana " adores" the cornet. Georgiana is my Dnicinea del Hoboken. I have a sort of her-wish-is-my-law feeling towards Georgiana. Consequently I determined to become master of that instrument Fired with that idea, I started out to buy one. I have a friend in the musical instrument business, who furnished me with one at not more than twenty-five per cent above the regular price—very reasonable for a " friend in the business." A German livet in our street who plays the cornet. He discourses sweet music in a concert saloon. Happy man! how I envied him! His life was one felicitous flow of unison and eweet harmony—and beer! Bacchus and Apollo mingled— principally Bacchus. His name is Schnapphausen. I engaged him to teach me. I had two days to practice upon my instrument before my first lesson was to take place. Two such daysl May I never see their like again. I nearly blew myself inside out, but could not produce a note. I blew myself red, and then white; I inflicted permanent injury on my lungs —but no note. Figuratively speaking, the more I blew, the bluer I got. At last, becoming disgusted, I banged the thing against the wall three or four times, and waited in gloomy silence for my preceptor. He came, and I suggested to him that there must be something wrong about the cornet; it wouldn't go. Whereupon he took it up and warbled "Sweet Spirit, Hear my Remarks" without moving a muscle scarcely. All his efforts to teach me, however, were in vain. He came three times., On the third day he exclaimed — '- Mem Hitnmell! You vas a plockhead. Ihaf told you ninedeen or elefen times how to do it, and you not can. Vhy, my little Sacup, at home, plays better than you, uf you dry one hoondred year." From which it was evident that the Professor was ; also that the cornet was hereditary in his family. I gave up the Professor, and started again by myself. In about a week I brought forth a note. I With the aid of an opera-glass it could j be plainly heard a mile away. All the I j cats in the neighborhood turned green with [ envy. • (I have photographs of them taken ■ as they were turning.) My joy was so I great that I hardly noticed my landlady, ! who bounced into the room, threatening me with an ejectment if it ever occurred again. It never occurred again —not there. I played that note, modulated, about ten days; but, although it was beautiful and perfect in itself, there was not sufficient variety in it to suit a critical taste. An obligato upon one note may not be considered a success. Fortunately, therefore, 11 struck a second note, and my happiness was complete. I arranged upon these two notes what I culled my ' Echo Song.' It was glorious! First low and tremulous, then high and impassioned, and finally bursting forth in one grand. I really forget what it was that was grand, but no matter. I was now fit to appear before Georgiana. I casually mentioned to her that I played a few little airs upon a cornet, and she invited me to come over and play them to her; which I accordingly did. There was quite a party assembled/ including a facetious young man, whom I detest. As I had brought my instrument with me, I was requested to play; so I modestly attempted my ' Echo.' Imagine my dismay when I found myself in the same predicament as when I first attempted to play. Not a sound could* I make, though I was blowing myself purple. The facetious young man wanted to know if I was practising for the 'deaf and dumb scene in the " Bohemian Boy,"' apd hinted that I was under training as a ' dummy' in a cheap orchestra. I nerved myself for a final effort, and with desperation made one final ' blow.'

Such a noise was never heard before in any four wails in Christendom. Of course, I gave up my attempt at playing, and in a few -minutes all the guests who had recovered sufficiently departed, and I with thero. I took occasion, before I went, to quite accidentally jam my cornet against the facetious young man's ear. He howled with anguish. It was sweet music to me. I hope he is howling With anguish at the present moment. That young man won't faseesh any more for some time—oh, no. On my way home I dropped that cornet 'neath the black, rushing tide, and reached home, to quote that original but expressive phrase, ' a sadder but not a wiser man.' I now contemplate visiting Europe for the purpose of taking lessons from the old masters upon the hand-organ. Georgiana ' loves' the hand-organ.— l Hem. Lock, 1 ira the New York Puch.