Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1893-07-14
THE VILLAGE OPERA.
A Lesson That Was Taught by the
Good Singer.

Near little village in the south Of
Saxony there dwelt a musician. 1t
seemed that he had always been living
there, and yet in appearance he was
not old. His eyes were full of fire, and
the dark clustering hair still fell away
from his smooth, high forehead. His
figure was still erect and his step
buoyant and firm. He lived alone upon
the mountain that hung over the pretty
valley. The children could plainly see
hisoottage shining above them on the
cliff, white against the purple shadows.
"See!" they would say to each other,
''that is where tho good singer lives"
When he came down into the little
town they would stand in the door
ways, smiling as he passed. But they
did not have that chance very often, for
mostly his way lay upward to the noun
tains crest, where, above the clouds
that hid the summit from the sight of
those below, he spent days sitting
alone in the sun. Then he would come
down again to his little cottage, bring
ing with him beautiful songs and har-
monies which he would work out in his
study and set down in music scroll.
the mountain top, the villagers were
always on the lookout; and one of their
number had leave from his work in the
fields in order that he might constantly
watch SO as to let the others know when
the singer should return. The watchers
post was high on cliff, in full view o.
the path winding down from above
Here, by bending out with the aid of Q
stout bush, he could see the men at
work far below. If the breeze were
favorable, he could even hear their
laughter or catch strain of n song or
two which the singer had taught them.
Then, swinging himself back upon the
cliff, he would watch the path that led
up into the mountain. In time he
would always be rewarded by sight of
the singer coming down from the rocks
to his cottage below. When he came
near enough, the watcher would always
lean forward to catch the expression in
his eyes. They seemed full of the sun,
with that rare light indeed which comes
only from looking down upon the world
like the sun itself. Such a. sight the
watcher priced always as the chief
treasure of his memory. He who
caught it was very fortunate, for, as the
singer drew nearer to the village nest
ling in the valley, this strange light
faded slowly, and his face became as
before, full indeed of nobility and sweet
ness, but not as luminous as it had
been.
When, however, at the bidding of the
watcher, the villagers thronged into
41,n ci-, = ,rrl,4
trous eyes would half glow again with
their former fire as he sang to them the
songs he had brought with him from
the mountain top. A hush fell upon
the men and women as they listened.
They clasped hands silently and smiled
through their happy tears If, per-
chance, anyone stood in the crowd who
had aught against neighbor, his face
relaxed as the singer sang, and his
hand stole out shyly to his enemy, who
grasped it eagerly, and the men were
friends And if two women had quar-
relied at their tasks, they laid stheir
heads in women fashion upon each 9TH
e:'s shoulders, and, weeping, became
sisters once more. So the singer sang,
and as the light from the hearth fire
shone upon his face the villagers
thought: 'Tt is an angel who brings to
Us the songs he has gathered at the feet
Of God"
Thus year in and out they went from
t1e fields and from the fireside up to
the little study of the singer. They
brought with them their common vex-
atiens and trials. They came some
what hardened with the weeks toll
and struggle, somewhat burdened with
their daily cares, for they were simple
folk and their valley was not over
bountiful But one by one their
burdens dropped away as they listened
| to the singer; and they took back with
| them to theirihopsesa II the warmth and
beauty and comfort of his songs. 1t
| happened now and then that one,
touched more than usual by some song,
would beg to hear it again. But
| smilingly the singer would answer that
all the songs were being written into
one great opera, and when he should
hear the whole he would find his song
again. Sometimes a mother would say,
| pleadingly: 'Give me the little song
| which has spoken so comfortably to
| me. 1t is like the prattle of the little
| one who rests so deep that can no
longer take her in my arms" But the
singer, smiling still, shook his head,
and began another song so tender and
sweet and yet so joyful that the vii
| layers held their breath, and even the
| mother no longer yearned for the song
! which had been sung and was already
folded away within the scroll of the
great opera now almost full. They
said among themselves: ''How beauti-
full must the entire work be, since these
are only parts!'' Some, indeed, more
outspoken than the rest, said often to
the singer: when shall we hear the
whole opera?" Then the singer, srnil-
ing ever, answered.: "Bide thou,
friend, and never grow impatient.
Atlast, however, there came an even
ing when the singer said to his people:
"The opera is done" They cried out
joyfuIly: ''Now we shall hear it all!''
But he checked them, saying: NAY,
you may not hear it yet" His voice
grew very gentle, as though he grieved
to disappoint them. Good friends" he
went on, tenderly, Eve have dwelt very
happily together, and your love has