BY GEORGE W. BAGBY


(Jud Brownin, when visiting New York, goes to hear Rubinstein, and gives
the following description of his playing.)

Well, sir, he had the blamedest, biggest, catty-cornerdest pianner you
ever laid eyes on; somethin' like a distracted billiard-table on three
legs. The lid was hoisted, and mighty well it was. If it hadn't been,
he'd 'a' tore the entire inside clean out and shattered 'em to the four
winds of heaven.

_Played well?_ You bet he did; but don't interrupt me. When he first sit
down he 'peared to keer mighty little 'bout playin' and wisht he hadn't
come. He tweedle-leedled a little on a treble, and twoodle-oodled some
on the base,--just foolin' and boxin' the thing's jaws for bein' in his
way. And I says to a man sittin' next to me, says I, "What sort of fool
playin' is that?" And he says, "Heish!" But presently his hands
commenced chasin' one another up and down the keys, like a passel of
rats scamperin' through a garret very swift. Parts of it was sweet,
though, and reminded me of a sugar squirrel turnin' the wheel of a candy
cage.

"Now," I says to my neighbor, "he's showin' off. He thinks he's a-doin'
of it, but he ain't got no idee, no plan of nothin'. If he'd play me a
tune of some kind or other, I'd--"

But my neighbor says, "Heish!" very impatient.