The Argosy — page 323: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

302 Margaret’s Frenzy. himself. A fragment at the back bore the precious inscription ‘¢ Antonius Stradivarius, Cremonensis, Faciebat Anno 1654.” And a portion of the instrument at least might be regarded as the work of this master. It was in shape a “Long Strad,” and was a marvellous combination of sycamore, Swiss pine and lemon tree. The varnish was a delight to the eye, and the tone—but here words failed for description. The supreme moment arrived when Margaret was to see this wonder, and decide whether or not she might call it her own. It seemed like opening a long buried coffin, they were so serious about undoing its box, which looked so worn and shabby. Margaret was speechless with delight when Professor Mohr played upon it, went into technical raptures, and eventually paid for it, smilingly, the price of two good pianos. Connoisseurs, even those not interested, said it closely resembled an authentic Stradivarius, and as such was a bargain; so I kept my surprise locked in my ignorant bosom. Margaret bought for her jewel a beautiful polished and inlaid mahogany case, lined with blue velvet. I, in a burst of enthusiasm, embroidered a fiddle-blanket of fine blue cloth, on which I executed in gold thread the treble clef, and Margaret’s initials, M. A. C., in beautiful silks. A spray of flowers was depicted beneath, and I thought the whole thing a masterpiece of originality and skill. It was lined with satin, quilted, wadded and perfumed: and the case, with its blanket, would have made a nice bed for one of the roly- poly Bavarian princelings we saw in the street with their squadron of nursemaids. Strange, uncouth sounds began now to issue from our little dwelling. It was a musical atmosphere where we lived, and people were prepared for the spasmodic wailing and sharp spiteful yells produced by a beginner on the violin. Otherwise I should have been ashamed. Margaret worked with a feverish energy, and I must confess that — she made rapid progress. From early morning till as late at night as the police regulations allowed, she fiddled as if for her life. She sawed the empty air with her bow to exercise certain elbow-muscles ; played before the mirror to break herself of making hideous faces, which caused me great delight ; racked her brains over harmony, and split her own ears and mine with studies ahead of her capacity. Her energy drove me to greater activity in my drawing, which, however, did not bring increased pleasure. ‘There must have been something wrong in my character that I was not happier for this furious emula- tion of the busy bee. Margaret often said, with a shake of the head: “Tf I were eighteen like you, Kate, instead of twice that age, I would make something of myself.” Then, ashamed of neglecting my oppor- tunities, I would go up on the roof and sketch clouds, while the other girls went off for a ramble in the solitude. CORnicoooks. eon nin