Out of Tune | AdventAI

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Feb 1, 1883

Out of Tune.

While yet but a little girl, Mabel Downing had seen her father and mother pass away from her, and after the breaking up of the happy little family, she was sent to live with Grandma Downing, who lived all alone in a rambling old house, peopled more by memories than by living inmates.

Of course it was very lonely and very sad, although there were some pleasent neighbors near, and grandma would gladly have made it a happy home for the pale, sorrowful little girl who had come to her; but it seemed as though Mabel could not, or would not, brighten up under her grandmother's kind efforts. It seemed to her that the old lady had such strange ideas of making people happy, and a strange way too, as she found, of dealing with their faults. She seemed really to believe that girls were happier for having regular duties for regular hours, and, to Mabel's way of thinking, many of these duties were not in the least amusing; but instead of wisely adopting grandma's views, the little girl clung obstinately to her own, and I need scarcely tell you that she was far from happy.

There was but one thing in all the house which Mabel had found really to love or care for; this was nothing less than the old piano standing all alone in the old-fashioned parlor—a piano that years ago had sent forth beautiful strains, making melody in many hearts, but which, in the silence creeping gradually over the old home, had not been even opened for a long time.

But on the very first day Mabel had found her way to it, and when grandma discovered her little visitor's love for music, and heard her play some sweet little airs caught by ear, she willingly gave Mabel permission to entertain herself thus whenever she wished.

This was indeed a pleasure to Mabel; morning and evening found her continually in the dim-lighted parlor, not caring for listeners, preferring to be all alone, playing softly or gladly on the old instrument, never knowing when to leave it, and often not till grandma had called several times, reminding her of some forgotten duty, or to send her out in the fresh air.

It is true, the old piano had long since seen its best days; many of the keys were quite mute, half were out of tune, and all jangled most unmusically, except a few chords, which Mabel soon learned to love and dwell upon; indeed, to the lonely little girl it seemed as though the old piano could understand her feelings, and could sympathize more fully with her than anything else; when accidentally touching a dumb note, and receiving no response, it seemed to remind her of loved voices now mute or silent; the long row of keys seemed to her like so many little friends, each in turn giving her all the pleasure in its power, regardless of discord. And little by little Mabel ceased to care for any other friends, finding comfort in the old piano at all hours, and telling out all her troubles through her idly wandering fingers, really believing that the instrument understood all, and responded as sympathetically as its cracked voice would permit.

Don't you think it was time for grandma to insist upon more fresh air and busy duties for a little girl who could indulge such dreamy thoughts and fancies? But grandma insisted to little purpose, for Mabel only retreated the more persistently to her old friend for every unwelcome suggestion or command.

One afternoon she was absent for more than an hour on an important errand for her grandmother, but when she returned found she had forgotten the full half the message she was to have delivered; now surely this was very careless; yet nevertheless Mabel thought grandma's reproof very unkind and unmerited, and, full of moody thoughts and with a sob in her throat, away she went to the darkened parlor to pour out her feelings in melancholy notes on the sympathetic old piano.

Entering from the brilliant sunshine, Mabel had almost to grope her way, and had reached the center of the room before noticing anything unusual, when suddenly, with an overpowering sense of something missing, of a great vacancy about her, she stood motionless, and felt, more than she saw, that her one true, faithful friend was gone.

For several moments she stood quite still, a mute, incredulous sorrow creeping over her, and then with a great choking sob away she flew to her grandmother.

"O, grandma," she cried, "they have taken it away! Some one has carried off my piano! What has happened to it? Tell me where it has gone!"

Grandma's face, that could be stern at times, turned now with gentle love and tenderness toward the distressed young countenance looking up to hers.

"Mabel, dear," she said, "I was obliged to send the piano away for reasons I cannot explain now; I would have told you before it went, had I not believed it would only increase your pain in giving it up. I hope my little girl will try and be happy without it."

"But, grandma, I never can be happy without it," sobbed poor Mabel; "I loved it better than anything in all the world, and I don't believe I can live without it!"

"Not quite so bad as that, Mabel," said grandma soothingly. "We are very, very rarely required to give up anything which we really cannot live without; trust grandma for once, and try to learn, what she was long in learning, that, if we will but look for it, a truer happiness will often spring up to fill the place of one that has been taken from us."

But those were sad days for a time that followed for Mabel; her first thought in the morning was of her great loss, and she could not go near the old parlor without a fresh burst of grief. There were so many hours that now seemed empty and joyless for her—hours which for a few days she spent mostly in sullen, repining thoughts, but which she gradually began to find so tedious that she was glad to shorten them by almost any device.

Having no temptation now to hurry through her morning duties, one by one they were performed more thoroughly, thereby calling forth only praise and cheery words from grandma, instead of reproof, and this of itself drew the little girl's heart nearer to the one whose real love she could not doubt. And many a pleasant book, wholly discarded while the old piano stood waiting for her, did Mabel now find a true and entertaining friend, giving a double pleasure as she read aloud to grandma, while the latter sat knitting.

The garden, too, seemed now to bloom with new and sweet attractions to Mabel, tempting her to remain longer each day, and sending her in at last with rosy cheeks and bright eyes. The little neighbors, who before had tried in vain to catch up with the change that had made Mabel so much more attractive and lovable—a change altogether more perceptible to others than to the little girl herself.

For we must not suppose that she had quite forgotten her dear old friend that had been so great a treasure; no, far from it; she longed for it often with a yearning desire to pass her fingers over the sympathetic keys once more, but she had ceased to repine for the lost pleasure, learning the lesson that comes to us all in time, "The lesson of doing without."

Three months had gone by, and one summer evening, after a long walk for grandma, Mabel wandered mechanically to the parlor in one of those wistful moods, thinking sadly but patiently of her lost delight. And once again, as on a well-remembered evening so long ago, she reached the center of the room before something caused her to pause and gaze incredulously before her.

Could it have been a dream all this time, or could her eyes now be deceiving her; for there, in the same familiar spot, looking unchanged, except perhaps a little fresher and brighter, stood the dear old piano, every well-remembered line on its carved case greeting her astonished gaze.

The next instant the top was raised, and forgetful of everything but her ecstasy of surprise and delight, Mabel passed her hand lovingly over the keys, but once more started back more delightedly astonished than ever. Could it be the same old instrument, so discordant, so defective, now sending forth such sweet, rich notes? Before she could again touch the soft chords, grandma stood beside her.

"O, grandma, have you seen it, have you heard?" cried Mabel joyously. "It is the old piano with new life!"

"That is indeed just it, my own little girl," answered grandma, "a new life that I hope is to be a pleasure to you for many years to come; and let me give you your first lesson. Do you not see these keys, that only a few months since did their work so imperfectly, some selfishly mute, giving forth no sweet response when called, others all out of tune, jangling together and producing no true music; now, who do you suppose must have wrought this change upon it, giving it a new, sweet life?"

"It must have been the maker, grandma," said Mabel, a very thoughtful look stealing through her gladness.

"That is rightly guessed," answered grandma; "the old piano, with all its imperfections, has been given into the keeping of its maker all this time, and to-day he has returned it to me renewed as you see it. I wonder if Mabel can think of something else that has grown sweeter and better during the same time? I know a young heart that three months ago was as much out of tune as the piano; though duties and pleasures lay straight before it each day like these white and black keys, yet when God listened for sweet music, as he does from every heart, these being his own loved instruments, his ear heard only discordant sounds, some of the keys remaining coldly mute, others harsh and unlovely, and all sadly out of tune. I have tried to send that poor little heart back to its Maker, and I believe he alone has made it the healthy, happy heart it now is, giving out sweet music to all."

"Ah, grandma," said Mabel thoughtfully, "I never understood so well before what you have meant in telling me that we must all ask God for a new life, and a new heart through Jesus Christ."

And Mabel never forgot that lesson, or, if inclined to forget, instead of tempting her to neglect its teachings, the old piano remained a continual reminder of her duties; and as she watched carefully to keep her dear instrument free from dust or injury, so did she watch over God's instrument within her, that it might ever send forth only sweet and pleasant music to his pure ear.—New York Observer.