A Musical Doctor.
Mr. Dayton, vocalist, told me of a fellow who cut a swell in various capacities a few years ago. He first knew him as a fiddler at fairs. The next time he turned up was under the following circumstances:—
“With Madam L. and some other renowned vocalist, he was giving concerts, when one day their pianist was taken suddenly sick. Madam was in great trepidation.
THE MUSICAL DOCTOR.
“‘What shall I do? The concert cannot be postponed, and we cannot sing unless we have an accompaniment,’ exclaimed the lady.
“I looked about, made some inquiry,—it was in a small town,—but no competent piano player could be found.
“‘We must abandon the concert,’ I said, which seemed inevitable, when there came a sharp knock at the door.
“‘Come in,’ I called.
“The door opened, and instead of a servant, as I had expected, there appeared a tall, stout specimen of the genus homo, with large black eyes, and long, dark hair flowing down on to his shoulders, making his best bow, and what he doubtless intended as his sweetest smile.