A RURAL CRITIC.

Globe, Volume IV, Issue 437, 6 November 1875, Page 3

A RURAL CRITIC.

After Madame Carreno’s concert was over, be quickly took us aside, and gave vent as follows to his pent-up feelings:—“ I tell you, mister, she was a slasher; our Gennie couldn’t hold a candle to her. When she first set down she looked kind o’ well, then with a howl dug her finger nails into them ’ere rough notes, and shut ’em like lightning up into the thin ones. Then she paused for a reply, mister. She then commenced at the right hand side, and went a rippling down hand over fist, till she got clean down, making a noise like thunder. She then yanked a handful out of the centre, and planted them at the end, then wiggled round with two lingers, grabbed up another fistful, punched right and left, went ripety-hopety-scotchy up and down, and I tell you that ’ere planner howled. She then gave another snort, and when she went she busted in like mad, raised up off her chair, stuffed three fingersful there, caromed six more in the corner, gobbled up a few more tunes, and settled their hash in about a minute. After that she tackled it with her left hand alone. Between you and me, mister, the man that owned that ’ere planner went shiftin’ around on his chair as though he had a carpet tack under him. Good night, mister.”