The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1866-07-27
BIDDEFoRD, ME-, FRIDAY
boys till eighteen or nineteen years old. !
bore Il patiently, uncomplainingly.
LyUk.. z. L. g. G. /,

y
bore II patiently, uncomplainingly.
.What is he fit forr every ono would
ask, and no one could answer, not oven my.
self.
wandered about tho rectory In the sum.
mcr evenings and heard her sing T; l tried
hard to get the old gardiner to let me help
him carry the wa,ering.pots, and when !
succeeded, felt, ss I entered the rector's
garden, that ] was entering paradise. o
happy months, when, after the horrible Ia
bors Of the weary day, ] used to follow the
old gardener, and hear her sing. My old
withered hearts beat fuller and freer when
tho memory comes back to me now.
Alas alas! my awkwardness again BAN
ished me. She met me one evening in the
garden, as ! was coming along the path with
my cans full Of water, and spoke to me, and
said,-
"You're the boy that broke the vase,
aren't you ?"
Ibid not, could not reply; my strength
fOrsook me. dropped my cans on the
ground, where they upset and flooded away
in moment some seeds on which the rec
tor set most especial store.
slow awkward, to be sure I" she OK
claimed. "And how angry uncle will be-"
turned and fed, and from that time the
rectory gate was closed against mo.
led a rhiserably unhappy life for the
next three ycan; ! had only one consola.
ton during the whole Of that weary time.
I saw her at church and heard her sing
there. could hear nothing else when she
sang, clear and distinct, above the confused,
nasal sounds that came from the voices of
others,-hers alone pure. sweet and good.
Il was blessed time. would not miss a
Sundays service In church for all that
might offer. Three good miles every Sun
day there and hack did l heavily plod to
hear her, and feel well rewarded. shared
her joys and heaviness. knew when she
was happy, when oppressed; as mother
knows the tones Of her child's voice, to the
minutcst shade Of difference, SO could tell
when her heart was light and when sad.
One Sunday she sang rs had never yet
hearl her, not loudly, but SO tenderly, 80
lovingly; knew the change had come,-|
she loved It thrilled in her voice and at
the evening service he was there. saw
him. A soldier, knew by his bearing, with
cruel, hard, gny eyes; and she sang, knew
il. ] detected tremblc and gratitude in
the notes. ] lfelt she was to suffer- as had
suffered; not that sang. had no voice.
A harsh, cultural sound was all could give
uttcrnnce to. ! could whistle like bird,
and often and often have lain for hours in
the shade Of tree and joined tho concerts
Of the woods.
Ono day WINS whistling, Us wns my
wont, us went through the streets, when I
was tapped on tho shoulder by an old man,
the cobbler of the next parish. knew him
from his coming to my father for leather oc.
e"s'o"a"''
SAM "ncrc u" yo" 'earn '''a'
Learn what
THAT tune
AT church."
"You'vo good car, Sam"
"lve nothing else good, but can whistle
anything"
"Can you whistle me tho Morning
Hymn!"
did so.
"Good very good. Know anything Of
music, SamT'
"Nothing."
"Like tot"
"Id give all have In tho world to be
able to play anything. My souls full Of
music. can't sing note, but l could play
anything If were taught"
$50 you shall, sam, my boy Come home
with mo. Carry these skins, and you shall
begin at once
Invent homo with him, and found that he
was one Of the players In the choir Of his
parish, his instrument bcing the violoncello.
took my first lesson' aud from that time
commenced new lie. Evening alter
evening" and sometimes during the DAY, !
wandered over TO ms little shop' ana wn''e
nc SAT su'c''' sn'c''' ot inc ooo's anu snoes'
payed over ana owe! ag"'h a'' 'ne music
could get from 'he church.
fou'o oea"t''u' nnsel'"s' sum- my
boy' beautiful, ana though u docs look
little awkward to SEQ you oowlng away
with your leis' It makes no difference to
you. You ought to I've hne player sam. =
was enthusiastic, but i wns poor j