"He had a fiddle sadly out of tune,
A voice as husky as a raven croaking,
Or owlet hooting to the clouded moon,
Or bloated bull-frog in some mud-hole choking."
During my professional journies through the country, I have often had the curiosity to visit the singing-schools in the small towns and villages through which I passed. These are often taught by persons who are perfectly ignorant of the common rules of music--men who have followed the plough all their lives, and know about as much of the divine science they pretend to teach as one of their oxen.
I have often been amused at their manner of explaining the principles of their art to their pupils, who profit so little by their instructions, that they are as wise at the end of their quarter as when they began. The master usually endeavours to impress upon them the importance of making themselves heard, and calls him the smartest fellow who is able to make the most noise. The constant vibration they keep up through their noses gives you the idea that their teacher has been in the habit of raising sheep, and had caught many of their peculiar notes. This style he very kindly imparts to his pupils; and as apt scholars generally try to imitate their master, choirs taught by these individuals resemble a flock of sheep going bahing one after another over a wall.
I will give you a specimen of one of these schools, that I happened to visit during my stay in the town of W---, in the western states. I do not mean to say that all music masters are like the one I am about to describe, but he bears a very close resemblance to a great many of the same calling, who practise their profession in remote settlements, where they are not likely to find many to criticise their performance.
I had advertised a concert for the 2nd of January, 1848, to be given in the town of W---. I arrived on the day appointed, and fortunately made the acquaintance of several gentlemen amateurs, who happened to be boarding at the hotel to which I had been recommended. They kindly manifested a lively interest in my success, and promised to do all in their power to procure me a good house.
While seated at dinner, one of my new friends received a note, which he said came from a singing master residing in a small village a few miles back of W---. After reading the epistle, and laughing heartily over its contents, he gave it to me. To my great astonishment it ran as follows:--
"My Dear Roberts,