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Updated: May 21, 2025
And must I be torn to pieces by such hideous degradation as this? Oh, my God, if my life is not soon clear of these things I shall die! Oh, it is funny yes, funny! Let us laugh at it. The dance-hall musician has brought home his 'cello! I heard him come bumping up the stairs with it God damn his soul! And there he sits, sawing away at some loathsome jig tunes!
The piano belongs to an old German friend of mine who has seen better days and has now no place to keep it. Two or three times a week he comes out here with an old crony who plays the 'cello, and they make music till they get to crying on each other's necks." "Do you cry, too?" Lydia smiled at the picture. Rankin came back to the fire with a pair of rubbers in his hand. "No; I'm an American.
Her trio, Op. 15, for piano, violin, and 'cello, the 'cello sonata, Op. 17, and the violin sonata, Op. 10, have been classed with the very best examples of their kind. Her other works include a number of piano pieces, among them some excellent fugues, three solos for the humble and seldom-heard viola, and a lovely romance for violin and piano.
"I know I somehow hurt you horribly on the night I reached home, by asking you to come to the studio to hear me play my 'cello; but, before God, I haven't the faintest idea why! "You would not have said what you did, had you known I was ill; but neither would you have said it, unless it had been true. If it was true then, it is true now. If it is true now, we can't spend Christmas Day together.
"I am longing to get back to play my 'cello again." "By-and-by, dear." "Did I talk much of the 'cello when I was ill?" "A good deal. But you talked chiefly of your travels and adventures; such weird things, that the doctors often thought they were a part of your delirium. But I found them all clearly explained in your manuscript. I hope you won't mind, Ronnie.
I want a reindeer a Pegasus a Valkyrie an anything to carry me away up into the air where I can exult without impropriety! Come blow your horn, hunter, Come blow your horn on high! In yonder room there lieth a 'cello player, And now he's going to move away! Come blow your horn That's an old Elizabethan song.
Those wonderful lyrical instruments the violin, the 'cello, and the flute have an almost exclusive right nowadays to some of the greatest songs. Few singers attempt the "Adelaïde" or "Che faro?" I like to recall the first time I ever heard "Che faro senza Eurydice?" A musical matinée was given to an elegant elderly woman, Mrs. P , who had had a wide social reputation as an accomplished singer.
By placing the hand on the body of a 'cello one can distinguish without the use of eye or ear, merely by the way in which the wood vibrates and trembles, whether the sound given out is sharp or flat, whether it is drawn from the treble string or the bass.
The trees had burst forth again into leaf, the spiraea bushes seemed weighted down with snow, and with a note like that of the quivering bass string of a 'cello the bees hummed among the fruit blossoms. And there beside me in her filmy dress was Maude, a part of it all the meaning of all that set my being clamouring.
She never knew if it were from a doze, or but from a reverie that she was aroused by a sudden thrilling sound back of her the clear, deep voice of a distant 'cello. Her heart began to beat faster, as it always did at the sound of music, and she sat up amazed, looking back into the intense blackness of the wood.
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