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Updated: May 3, 2025
"There is no demand for my music," he thought, and he went into a fashionable music emporium, as a last hope. The clerks at Schumein's recognised him in a moment; his was a face one could not forget. Mr. Schumein, the head of the firm, could not see him; he was busy. "I will wait," said Von Barwig, and he sat down. "I'm afraid he'll be busy all the afternoon," said the clerk apprehensively.
I go among the poor a great deal " "Ah, charity!" he said. "Yes." And then he went up to the window and pulled up the blinds as far as they would go that he might get more of the fast-fading light. "I saw you a few days ago at Schumein's, the music publishers, and your name was suggested to me by one of the young ladies at the mission as music master."
They advised him to write for the hour, and not for posterity. "You must give the public what they want," said Schumein. "How can you tell what they want if you don't try?" pleaded Von Barwig. "If you give them only what you acknowledge is bad, how will they ever know what is better?" "It's no use," was Schumein's reply, "music like yours has no market value.
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