THE POWER OF SONG by Josephine Weatherly

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Feb 10, 1904

THE POWER OF SONG.

By Josephine Weatherly

BY JOSEPHINE WEATHERLY.

"O MAMA," cried Nellie Harrison, bursting into the kitchen late one afternoon in the early fall, "Miss Wilson says I have music in me and that with study and practise I'll make a good player. See, here is my next lesson, and she says I had the one for this week very good."

"I'm so glad to hear all this, dear," replied a pale, tired-looking woman as she looked up from her sewing-machine, which was pulled right up to the window to catch the last lingering rays of the setting sun. "But put aside your books and music now, and take that bundle of sewing over to Mrs. Brown's before it gets dark."

"O, not now, mama, let me just play this piece over several times; or won't to-morrow morning do as I go on my way to school? I pass Mrs. Brown's, you know."

"No, Nellie, to-morrow morning will not do; I need the money this evening yet, to meet the payment on this machine. Mr. Doolin called here last Saturday, and I promised him the money this evening. He said, 'Very well,' but if it were not ready by that time, he would have to take the machine, and that would mean no more music lessons, dear; for, you know, mama is doing this extra work to give her little girl extra advantages. So run like a good child."

"All right, mother mine," replied Nellie brightly, all the impatience dying out of her face and voice. "I'll do my share to help you;" and she flitted out of the room after having imprinted a kiss upon her mother's pale cheek. Mrs. Harrison drew a breath of relief and bent over her work with renewed energy. The kiss imprinted upon her cheek had sent a glow to the tired, discouraged heart, and somehow had lightened it of its burden.

Poor Mrs. Harrison of late had found the burden of life almost too heavy for her weak strength. Left a widow three years before with two children—a boy twelve and a girl ten—she had managed by dint of hard work to keep her little flock together and the wolf from the door. But it was such hard work! A few domestic animals, some chickens, and a three-room cottage on a two-acre plot were all her available assets when she became the wage-earner. The produce she derived from these sources brought enough, at first, to satisfy their few needs, but now that the children were getting older it took more to keep them; especially as Nellie, having a decided talent for music, was taking lessons now. So Mrs. Harrison decided to get a machine on the instalment plan and do plain sewing to pay for these lessons.

She herself had always loved music, and she desired that her little daughter's inherited talent might be cultivated.

And how Nellie did practise! The first thing after the breakfast dishes were done, until time to go to school. Then at noon she scarcely gave herself a chance to eat her dinner. And then right after school she pitched in again, until mama called her to set the tea-table or to run up-town for her. After supper Nellie did not practise, because their one lamp had to do service at the work-table where mama must sit with her sewing, and brother Fred must figure at his sums for the next day.

Poor Fred, being but a boy, and a rather bad boy—if we might believe neighborhood gossip—was not supposed to have any ambitions beyond doing the "chores," taking care of the garden, and mastering reading, writing, and arithmetic. It was very unfortunate for the boy that he lost his father just at the age when most boys are apt to get a little wayward. Besides, Fred's father had been more in sympathy with him than his mother ever had. His noisy, boyish ways had frequently annoyed her so, that to escape her rebukes Fred got into the habit of playing out in the street and away from the house, and that, too, with boys who were not the most desirable companions.

So the mother, absorbed in her grief, cares, and Nellie, gradually let her boy slip from under her control and away from her influence. She did not realize this until one day Fred openly rebelled at her request that he stay away from a ball game to chop some wood for a neighbor who said he would give him half of all he could chop in one afternoon. Poor mother! How clearly now she saw that this thing and that thing had gradually, during the last three years, weakened her influence over her boy. How bitterly she regretted the past and how prayerfully she determined to start anew, only the Father who heareth in secret ever knew.

"Mama," called Nellie, one afternoon, in a shrill, irritable voice: "I wish you'd come in here and make Fred stop. He won't let me practise." Mrs. Harrison came into the room prepared to take Nellie's part as usual, and also as usual to administer a rebuke to Fred, when suddenly she bethought her of that bitter half-hour that she had spent upon her knees over her wayward boy. So, instead of ordering Fred out of the room, as she would have done a week ago, she laid her hand upon his curly head in a way that made the boy start and look up into her face with incredulous surprise, which changed into a happy smile when she turned to Nellie and said, "Why Nellie, Fred is only humming the tune you are playing, and from what I heard of it, it was in good pitch and time. I wonder, son," now turning to him, "if you haven't music in you, too."

"Music in him," called out Nellie, "if it's anything like the noise and racket he usually gives us, I hope he'll keep it bottled up tight. And now, do, mama, make him leave the room so that I can finish in peace! You know I am to play for Sunday-school and Junior Endeavor to-morrow; and every song I have yet tried, Fred spoils by trying to sing! and Monday is my lesson day, and I must work real hard this afternoon if I expect to get my lesson."

Mrs. Harrison, seeing that Nellie was in no frame of mind to be reasoned with, being so wrought up about mastering her exercise, said to Fred: "Come, son, and get in the wood and coal for to-morrow, and this evening we'll investigate whatever musical abilities you may have, and rest assured that mama will do the right thing by you, just as she does by Nellie." With a cheery whistle that Mrs. Harrison had not heard for months, Fred went about the tasks assigned him, while from the front room came Nellie's rhythmic counts of 1-2-3.

Mrs. Harrison again resumed the work that the disturbance over the lesson had interrupted, when, happening to glance up the village road that the view from her window commanded, she saw a gang of boys headed toward her front gate. For an instant her heart stood still. Well she knew those boys. They were about Fred's age and had a reputation for being wayward boys and capable of doing more meanness in one afternoon than you could imagine in a week. Their company had a peculiar fascination for Fred, who had often taken part in their pranks. During this last summer, the orchards that had been robbed, the melon-patches invaded, the hen-houses molested, to say nothing of cattle turned into garden patches, and out-buildings overturned, could all be traced directly to these boys.

As before stated, Mrs. Harrison's expostulations with Fred had all been in vain of late, and now these boys were coming to get him to go with them to commit some new depredation.

What should she do? What could she do? If she asked him not to go with them, and he should pay no attention to her, but go, she felt sure it would break her heart. Then an inspiration came to her. Running in to Nellie, she said, with a face so white and drawn that the child was frightened: "Nellie, dear, play again that piece of music that Fred took such a fancy to, and I'll call him in to see if he can sing it. Yes, yes, dear, do as mama asks you," she whispered, as Nellie appeared to hesitate. "Those boys will be after him in a few minutes, and we must keep him at home." Then going to the kitchen, where Fred was just depositing his last armful of wood, she said: "Listen, Fred, Nellie is playing that song that you tried to hum a while ago. Let's go in and see if we can't learn to sing it. I, too, have taken quite a fancy to it." And without waiting for a reply she linked her arm within that of her boy and together they walked up to where Nellie was playing with all the gusto she could muster. The mother's voice wavered at first, not having been used in song for so long, but, presently, seeing Fred start as the familiar calls of the boys were borne in to them, she nerved herself to the needs of the moment, and its old-time richness and power struck a responsive chord in the boy's heart so that his full boyish voice mingled with hers in those wonderfully strengthening words:—

"My high tower is He! To Him will I flee; In Him confide, In Him abide; My high tower is He!"

Indeed, so joyfully and triumphantly did the song float out upon the clear October air that the crowd of boys at the front gate, after a few disconnected calls and whistles, left the place. Song followed song. Nellie, in the unselfishness of her little heart, which somehow caught the anxious spirit of the mother and responded to it with a kindred feeling that lies latent in all womankind, dismissed all thoughts of the unfinished lesson and would have gone on playing indefinitely if a rap at the door had not interrupted her.

"Well, but this sounds like a camp-meeting," exclaimed the visitor, Mr. Marsh, who was superintendent of the Sunday-school that Nellie attended; "and don't go, son," he added, as Fred was about to leave the room, "for my business is with you, too, altho I, myself, did not know it until I heard you sing. I came up to see Nellie about the music she is to play at Sunday-school to-morrow, but your singing gave me a new idea. It is this: To get all the young people of the church together and organize a choir to sing at Sunday-schools and at the evening church services. And you must help us in the singing. Why, I declare, your voice is as true as a tuning fork and as clear and penetrating as a bell."

It would be impossible to tell how happy this little talk made Fred, and in what a manly way he promised to join the proposed choir. A dignity not born of years was suddenly added to his character. A new purpose shone in his eye and resounded in his walk as he went about his hitherto menial chores that evening. That night, after Fred had retired to rest, mother and daughter kissed each other, while happy tears glistened in their eyes. "Mama, I believe Fred is going to make a good boy yet," said Nellie.

"Yes, dear," whispered the mother, "the soul that can comprehend the beauty of music and feel the power of song is not beyond the pale of hope. Our boy will grow up to be a man of whom mother and sister will be proud."

It was even so. Fred was turned over to Miss Wilson, who was delighted with his talent and his application. Mr. Marsh gave him a steady job of work at fair wages.

The young people in the church with whom Fred became associated were of a different class from the street urchins with whom he had of late years come in contact, and their influence, with the strong power of religious teaching and the refining and elevating power of song, developed in Fred all those noble and sterling qualities that go to make up a true man such as the world admires, and such as the world needs.

Emporia, Kan.