The Conversational Voice.
The comfort and happiness of home and home intercourse, let us here say, depend very much upon the kindly and affectional training of the voice. Trouble and care and vexation will, and must of course, come; but let them not creep into our voices. Let only our kindlier and happier feelings be vocal in our homes. Let them be so, if for no other reason, for the little children’s sake. These sensitive little beings are exceedingly susceptible to the tones. Let us have consideration for them. They hear so much that we have forgotten to hear. For, as we advance in years, our life becomes more interior. We are abstracted from outward scenes and sounds. We think, we reflect, we begin gradually to deal with the past, as we have formerly vividly lived in the present. Our ears grow dull to external sound. It is turned inward and listens chiefly to the echoes of past voices. We catch no more the merry laughter of children. We hear no more the note of the morning bird. The brook that used to prattle so gayly to us, rushes by unheeded—we have forgotten to hear such things. But little children, remember, sensitively hear them all! Mark how at every sound, the young child starts, and turns, and listens. And thus, with equal sensitiveness, does it catch the tones of human voices. How were it possible, therefore, that the sharp and hasty word, the fretful and complaining tone, should not startle and pain, even depress, the sensitive little being, whose harp of life is so newly and delicately strung: vibrating even to the gentle breeze, and thrilling sensitively, ever, to the tones of such voices as sweep across it? Let us be kind and cheerful spoken, then, in our homes.—Once a Month.