Stradivarius. Donald P. Ladew

-- he hesitated -- “I’m not nowhere near good enough. I have a tough time figuring out from the books how some of the songs should be played. They’s all kind of Italian words on the music and I don’t know what they mean.”

      Luther chuckled. “I wish I could tell you, but I don’t even know English that good. I don’t guess there’s anyone who could teach you, is there?” Luther asked.

      “No, Miz Bentley give up teaching me a year ago. I done” —he corrected himself— “I learned everything she knew.”

      “Lord, I imagine so. I doubt there’s anyone in West Virginia who could teach you very much.”

      After Ailey had gone down the mountain Luther sat in front of the cabin, havin’ his sunset. This was a situation that required some thought.

      “What’s to become of him,” Luther wondered. “It’s like keeping a butterfly in a room full of moths. If he’s left, he’ll become like them.”

      Luther went to his book shelf, now lined with books from floor to ceiling. He selected a book of essays by the Englishman, Bulwer Lytton. He thumbed through the pages searching for a remembered quotation. His finger came to rest on the piece he was looking for. He read out loud.

      “Talk not of genius baffled. Genius is the master of man.

      Genius does what it must, talent does what it can.”

      “I think I ought to go down and have a talk with that teacher, Miss Bentley. No reason genius shouldn’t have a little help now and agin.”