[Illustration: THE MID-NIGHT SERENADE.]
The multitudinous harmonies of this world differ in pathos and pitch as
the stars differ, one from another, in glory. There is a style for every
taste, a melody for every ear. The gabble of geese is music to the goose;
the hoot of the hoot-owl is lovlier to his mate than the nightingale's
lay; the concert of Signor "Tomasso Cataleny" and Mademoiselle "Pussy"
awakeneth the growling old bachelor from his dreams, and he throweth his
boquets of bootjacks and superannuated foot gear.
The peripatetic gentleman from Italy asks no loftier strain than the
tune of his hand organ and the jingle of the nickels, "the tribute of
the Cæsars."
The downy-lipped boy counts the explosion of a kiss on the cheek of his
darling "dul-ci-ni-a del To-bo-so" sweeter than an echo from paradise;
and it is said that older folks like its music.
The tintinnabulations of the wife's curtain lecture are too precious to
the enraptured husband to be shared with other ears. And in the hush of
the bed-time hour, when tired daddies are seeking repose in the oblivion
of sleep, the unearthly bangs on the grand piano below in the parlor,
and the unearthly screams and yells of the budding prima donna, as she
sings to her admiring beau:
[Illustration: (Sheet Music)]
"Men may come and men may go, but
I go on 'for-ev-oor' 'ev-oor'
I go on 'for-ev-o-o-r' 'e-v-o-o-r'
I go on 'for-ev-oor.'"
It is a thing of beauty, and a "nightmare" forever.