Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1862-05-05
a Little Incident.

How sweet is the voice of song! How all
controlling its power over the heart! Not
long ago, a gay little crowd were assembled
together at the house of friend, spending the
evening in a moonlight chat out on the wide
old porch. Conversation had been lively, but
the influence of the calm summer night had
fallen upon all hearts, wooing them to a deli
cious quiet. Several moments were spent in
profound ~revcrie, but the spell of silence was
broken by one of the party calling on a lively,
gay girl for a song.
Yes, Mollie, sing-do sing plead several
voices in chorus.
Well said the light hearted one, what
shall it be?'
oh, any thins-sometning to suit the
notwithstanding quiet and holy, like
the night replied one of sentimental cast of
mind.
We'll, so let it be- sad Mollie, I'll sing
you an old song After several throat
clearings and very many off:hand apologies.
she launched out into the we'll known song:
{ Thou hast wounded q shirt that Ioued thee.'
AS we'll might a grizzly bear have tiled to
sing soprano as for Mollie to have undertaken
to do justice to that song. Her light, frivolous
tones murdered its intended pathos. Several
others sang, mostly old love songs At
length a call was made for a song upon a lady
who, all the evening, had sat retired, apparent
ly more interested in her own thoughts than
in the conversation of the evening. | was all
curiosity to hear her reply She was consid-
cred by all who knew her to he a woman ef
talent-by nearly all her acquaintances she
was considered very reserved-hy strangers,
| including myself, she was called PROUD, even
to h~augh,iness. | had heard her history, and
[ knew she had suffered deeply, and yet no
trace was visible in her manner-no bitterness
mingled in her speech. She seemed perfectly
unconscious of her own trials, and Strong in
spirit as Hercules. Where does she go
for such sustaining power? She lives she
triumphs, she works necessarily, she Is deli
cate in appearance, too. Her mind mus: know
some charm undiscovered by her b ,dy,
unused /.
There was a moment of silence, and then a
soft, clear, womanly voice hoated on the
evening air breathing one of Moore's sweetest
melodies:
Come, ye disconsolate, where'er ye anguish -
and so fervent was the invocation, that we fcl,
; constrained to go to her but hush-sbe sing,
!. of anguish and wounded hearts-her voice
: is low, deep, and so sweetly tremulous, i
, starts the unbiden tear. But that low whip
poorwill plant is over, and then comes th'
triumph-notes, rich, full, and swelling, will
9 e~xulting victory;
10y of the desolate, light of the straying-
u Hope when all others die, fadeless and pure;
h Here srcaks the Comforter, in Gods name, saying
Earth t.sno sorrow that Heaven cannot cure"
e: Then came the appeal to the infdel, and
L thought a soul, glorying in the great knowl
st edge, blended its immortal voice with hers a
1T she closed the last line: Earth has no sorrol
re that Heaven cannot heal 1t was like th
Ill preceding verse, only more triumphant. Fac
he note seemed to strengthen and echo over an
over again after the lips had closed. A silenc
y remarked:
It, "A splendid song of praise truly; one fee
Sc stronger for hearing it.
ly 1T has cheered many . sad hour for me