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The Blake homestead stood at the northwest corner of North and Tennessee streets (the latter now Capitol avenue), and was a delightful old place with its sheltered brick-paved porch, its Dutch gable and the riot of vines over all.
When I visited the homestead Mrs. Blake met me on the porch and taking me by the hand lead me into the quaint old parlor to see her cherished possession, the bridal gift of her husband, the antiquated piano, now stained and darkened with age. It had been brought over the mountains from Baltimore in 1831 and was the first instrument of its kind in the new settlement. The pleasure her playing gave was long remembered by Mrs. Blake’s friends. Perhaps “Uncle Jimmie,” as he was affectionately called, took his fiddle from its box and joined in the music—I wish I might have heard the duets they played, this Hoosier Darby and Joan!
Mrs. Blake and her playing at the old piano inspired Dan Paine to write his poem “Da Capo,” one of the best of our local productions. To revive your memory of it I quote a stanza or two:
“She sat at the old piano
Her fingers thin and pale
Ran over the yellow key-board
The chords of a minor scale.
Her hands were withered and shrunken,
Her form with age was bent;
They seemed twin spirits in look and tone;
Herself and the instrument.
For the instrument quaint and olden
With its single tremulous strings,
Was little more than a spirit,
And its tone seemed a whirr of wings.”
