The Road to Dumbiedykes 



The power of great music over an 

 imaginative soul is absolute. 



And now poor Butterfly is standing 

 at the window in her all-night vigil. 

 The lights have been turned off through- 

 out the body of the theatre. Only the 

 soft glow reflected from the stage out- 

 lines the brilliant audience. The violins 

 sing sweetly their plaintive messages. 



If you would enjoy grand opera to 

 its utmost, centre not your mind too 

 much upon the puppets up in front. 

 Concentrate not at all upon the vo- 

 calization, however perfect. With 

 all your faculties alert listen intently 

 rather to the story being told by strings 

 and reeds and brass. All else is sec- 

 ondary. When I am blind then take 

 me still to opera. 



Two thousand human hearts are 

 being played upon, even as the artiste 

 there in front is sweeping with delicate 

 touch the responsive chords of that 

 golden harp. A perfume of roses is 

 wafted from the boxes. There is glint 

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