The Newberry herald. [volume] (Newberry, S.C.) 1865-1884, 1875-01-13

They were responsive to our
neighbor.

They were responsive 10 our
ueighbor.
l die rot then remark upon the
circumstances. One reason Of this
lay in the fact I had spoken light
ly Of our neighbor's whistling pro.
pensity which had struck me as
vulgar; aud [ did not care to &C.
knowledge myself so largely his
debtor as | really was.
We wero in our bedroom, and
about retiring for the night, when
loud voices as if in strife, came
discordantly through the thin
party-walls, from our ncighbors
on the other side. Something
had gone wrong there, and angry
passions were in the ascendant.
"How very disagrceable!' - | re-
marked.
"Thc mans brute - said my
wife emphaticalIy. "He does no.
thing, it seems to me but wrangle
in his family. Pity he hadn't
some Of the pleasant temper Of
our neighbor on the other side"
"Thatis q more agreeable sound
l must confess" WAS my answer
as the notes Of "What fairy like
Music steals over the Sea-" rose
sweetly on the air.
"Far more agreeable" returned
my wife.
He plays we'll on his instru-
ment," said, smiling.
My ear was following the notes
in pleased recognition. We stood
listening until our noighbor pass
cd to another air, set to Mrs. He
mans beautiful words, "Come to
| the Sunset Tree" To q slow,
soft, tender measure, the notes
fell, yet still we heard them with
singular distinctness through the
intervening wall, just little muf-
fed, but sweeter for the obstruc-
ton.
"The day is past and gone,
The woodman's axe lies free,
And the reaper's work is done"
Ny wife recalled these lines
from her memory, repeating them
in q subdued, tranquiIizing tone.
The air was still sounding in our
ears, but we no longer recognized
impressions on the external senses.
1t had done its work Of recalling
the beautiful Evening Hymn Of
the Switzer, and we repeated to
each other verse after verse
"Sweet is the hour of rest.
Pleasant the woods own sigh,
And the cleaning Of the west,
And the turf whereon we lie.
When the burden and the heat
Of labor's tasks are DER,
Aud kindly voices greet
The loved one at the door,"
TO which l added,
"But rest more sweet and still
Than ever nightfall gave,
| Our longing hearts shall fill,
In the world beyond the grave.
There shall no tempest blow.
No scorching noontide heat;
There shall be no more snow,
No weary, wandering feet,
From the hills our fathers trod
TO the quiet of the skies
To the Sabblth of our God"
All was now still on both sides.
The harsh discord of our scolding
noighbor had ceased, and our
whistling ncighbor had warbled
his goodnight melody which, like
a pleasant flower growing near
an unsightly object, and interpos-
ing a veil Of beauty, had removed
it from our consciousness.
twas long time since | had eelt
so peaceful upon retiring as when
my head went down upon its pill
low-thanks to my light-hearted
noighbor, at whose whistling pro-
pensities | was inclined in the be-
ginning to be annoyed. But for
him L should have gone to rest
with the harsh discord Of my
scolding neighbor's voice in my
ears, and been i'll at ease with my
self and the world. On what
seeming triflos hang our states of
mind. A word, a look, q tone Of
music, u discordant jar, will bring
light or shadow, smiles or tears.
On The next morning, while
dressing myself, thought reached
forward over the days anxieties,
and care began drawing her som.
bre curtains around me.
My neighbor was stirring also
and, like the awakening bird, tune.
full mathis, "Day on tho Noun.
tains" rang out cheerfully, follow.
cd by Dear Summer Morn" wind
ing off with "Begone, Dull Care p
and the merry laughter of a hap
py child which had sprung into
his arms, and was being covered
with kisses.
The cloud that was gathering
on ny brow passed away, and
met my wife and children at the
breakfast-table with pleasant
, smiles.