Old Grumble on Love and Music

Feilding Star, Volume XI, Issue 20, 1 August 1889, Page 3

Old Grumble on Love and Music

A man when striken by Cupid is like a dog attacked with hydrophobia,, he feels disposed to bits everyone he sees, always excepting his inamorata. After that he gro.ws musical. I never knew a man yet, who didn't become musical when he was in love. After I fell in love with you, my dear, I took to music, got an accordeon and began to practice "When Johnny comes Marching Home again 7 ' enough to drive you crazy. When, as some poet said, " Music hath charms to soothe the savage beast, the hungry Scotchman and the shepherd's dog," I thought it might act on your father — kind of soften him like. However, before committing myself, I decided to try it on Callopy's dog. I a double motive in that ; I wanted to friends with the dog, and I wanted to make you a present of some fruit. *' What had your present to do with the dog ?" Why, you see, it grew in Callopy'6 orchard. "Ah I Those apples with which .you v/on my affections were stolen I" ITo, they were not, for the dog wouldn't be soothed, and I had to escape back over the fence without them, whilst the dog savagely rent my accordeon into pieces. After that I bought a tremendous instrument, which looked like a brass serpent i «oiled up, with an enormous mouth, and .you blow through its tail. As the idea i about the soothing influences of music was , quite exploded by the contumacy of the 1 dog. I reared that serpent in the wilderness, that is I took it to the back of a bush < section before I began to blow in it. Then I did blow ; but not a sound came, and it struck me that if I continued much longer I should soon be nothing but a walking head, for it seemed to be absorbing all the xest of me. Just as I was desisting the notes came ; they were not sweet ones, and only came by fits and starts. Suddenly something was inserted in my waistJband from behind, and I and the serpent were sent careering together several feet through the air. I looked round 1 It was ■a cow that did it; she thought I was strangling her calf. I didn't stop to play ■any more. A good natured friend told xae the best place to play was by the bank of a river, as water softened the sounds. J went to the bank of a river. I seemed to be getting on better there ; but, alas, I was one day accosted by a man who appeared to be the owner of the land with the question, " Have you rented these ■waters ?" I answered, " Certainly not." "" Then its like your confounded cheek to -come here killing all the fish." I laid ■down the boa-constrictor, looking at him with wonder, and replied, " I have killed no fish." ** The deuce you havn't ! Why they're lying dead down the stream in multitudes, killed by that infernal noise .you have been creating, but there's an end of it 1" and snatching up the brazen reptile he flung it into the water. I was about to take objection to bis proceeding, when he told me he would " heave " me in after it ; as he made a step towards me, as though he meant what he said, I took it as a polite hint that I was trespassing *,nd I left. I became the owner of a violin next ; for I had determined to master that tune. 1 practised at night in the back yard, and for a whole week a sharp fusilade was kept up from the adjoining houses. The chemist told me it was unaccountable the trade he did that week in Bough on rats. My neighbors mistook my strains for those of the vocalists of the nights — cats. At last I got the time off by heart. People «aid I played it as it had never before been played. There was not a social gathering but I went, whether invited or not. At a concert one night I was surpassing myself when clap went the bridge. In an instant all was mute. In silent appeal I held up the fiddle to show the audience, but they cried "Never mind the bridge," "keep on," and " play it on the back." The people now began to hiss. What do you say, I ought to have bowed and retired ? Mrs Grumble do I look like a man capable of going off the stage in that sneaking way ? No, when I did withdraw it was -with my face to the foe and shaking my fist at them. And no one will any more hear " When Johnny comes Marching Home again" from Old Grumble.