228 Old Days on the Farm 



"A noise arose in the orchestra 

 As the leader drew across 

 The intestines of the agile cat, 

 The tail of the noble horse." 



I always feel that any man that has music 

 enough in his soul to whistle or lilt a "coon" 

 song and even out of tune, must find his heart 

 strings tremble and vibrate when the aforesaid 

 parts of the cat and horse, mentioned above, meet 

 together in unison. The fine old fiddler, the joy- 

 ous squeaking fiddler, the prideful, perspiration 

 bedewed fiddler, the fiddle-till-you-drop-to-the-floor 

 fiddler, is getting rarer every year but there are 

 ^till some of his kind on the frontiers of civilisa- 

 tion — on the lone prairies, in the deep lumber 

 woods and at the mines, in the forecastles of ships 

 and well — on the back concessions. In all the out- 

 of-the-way and therefore, fortunate and original 

 places the fiddle is still the best-beloved instru- 

 ment of music and the skilled and enthusiastic 

 fiddler is always sure of applause and such tribute 

 as may be afforded. 



WEEE CHEERED BY THE FmOLE 



Oh, yes, the mighty youth of early days in this 

 broad Dominion were cheered by the fiddle. The 

 humble cabin of the pioneer in the long, lonely 

 winter nights was enlivened with its strains. It 

 was the life of merry-making in the days of the 



