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Flowers Plucked from the Hedges...

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Sonny

[Page 52]

POOR JOHN!

I carried my music to a lady's house one day to see if I could not sell her a copy. She asked me to play some of the pieces, as she needed some new music and wanted to hear them. Catching glimpse, as I thought, of the almighty dollar, I played the "Italian Waltz".

"Oh, my," she said, "I wish John was here". I asked her "Who was John?" She said he was her husband, and she wished he could hear that music. I then started on some of the livelier pieces, and I never saw anyone who seemed to enjoy them any more, as she patted her foot to the rhythm of the music. After playing one or two more pieces, I turned to her to accomplish the object of my visit. I. asked her if she liked the music.

"Like it? Why I like it better than any music I ever heard in my life!"

"Well, wouldn't you like to buy a copy and learn the pieces?" She turned to me in holy horror, and said "I-learn-those-pieces? No, Madam, I wouldn't have that music in my house for anything in this world."

I told her I understood her to say she liked it. "That's what's the matter. I like it too well; it made me pat my foot, and I am afraid of it. No, Madam, I don't want any of your music. I did wish John was here, but now I am glad he is away. It would have done him more harm than good, for John loves music anyway."

Let us drop a tear for Poor John.

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I left the house cogitating and meditating, but then I had found something new under the sun, and novelty always interests.

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