MASTER OF HIS CRAFT

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Sep 4, 1901

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 27, No. 36.

MASTER OF HIS CRAFT.

Among the immigrants awaiting examination at Ellis Island, recently, was a tall young fellow with a little black bag under his arm. He was a Pole, about twenty years old, and his admission was a pleasing and dramatic incident, witnessed by Mr. Arthur Henry, and described in Scribner’s Magazine. The lesson it teaches is as good for native Americans as for immigrants.

When the young man’s turn came to answer the inevitable question, “How much money have you?” he smiled and answered frankly, “None.”

“But don’t you know you can’t come in here if you have no money and no friend to speak for you? Where are you going?”

“To Fall River first. I have a friend there. Then I shall see the whole country. I shall make money. You will hear of me.”

The inspector proceeded rather sharply: “How will you get to Fall River? Where will you eat and sleep to-night?”

“I shall be all right,” replied the young fellow, confidently. “With this”—tapping the bag—“I can go anywhere.”

“What is it?”

The Pole laughed, and opening the bag, took out a cornet. It was a fine instrument, and gave evidence of loving care.

“Can you play it well?” asked the officer more kindly.

In answer, the young Pole stepped out into an open space, and lifting the horn to his lips, began the beautiful intermezzo from “Cavalleria Rusticana.” At the first note every one in the great building stood still and listened. The long lines of immigrants became motionless. The forlorn waiters in the pit looked up, and their faces became tender. Even the meanest among them seemed to feel the charm of the pleading notes.

When the music ceased, there was a burst of applause. Shouts of “Bravo!” “Good boy!” “Give us some more!” came from every side. The physicians who a few moments before made their hurried and not over-gentle examination joined in the applause. The officer who had questioned him so sharply slapped him on the back. The commissioner himself had come up from his office at the sound of the horn, and asked for the particulars.

When he had heard them, he turned to the agent of the Fall River boats, and said, “Give this fellow a passage, including meals, and charge it to me.”

“I will charge it to myself,” said the agent, and he took the young Pole by the arm and led him away.

The incident was a sermon on competence, a lesson on what it means to be a master. The trade may be music or farming or bricklaying—it does not matter. The man who has conquered it, who knows it root and branch, can point to it as confidently as the young Pole pointed to his cornet, and say as he did, “With this I can go anywhere.”—Selected.