The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1893-07-07

which the singer had left them. Of the
rest, some had put in new notes and left
out old ones, some had changed the key
of their song to another which they
thought more suitable to their voice,
and some had so varied and simplifed
the i songs that the original theme
could scarcely be discerned. Most in
| deed, We're, in this way and in that,
| quite different from the songs left them
by the singer. 1t was true that few
who thus changed their scrolls found
out their mistake too late, and tried to
erase the alterations they had made.
But here and there they had forgotten
a note in the original melody, which.
try as they might, they could not re
| store.
The villagers were in this condition
when, one morning. as, according to
their custom, they looked up to the lit
tie empty cottage on the cliff, they
found, to their great surprise, that it
was again occupied. They had waited
so long that at first they could not
credit their own eyes; but as they
looked they saw the yellow smoke curl
up from the chimney, and they could
no longer doubt that at last the singer
had returned to them. With mingled
feelings they awaited his summons to
the study, some with joy of hope full
filled, others with sense of their own
insufficiency and shortcomings, and
some with a heavy weight of shame.
And, truly, many Jagged behind when
the little procession wound up the
mountain to the cliff. None however,
was SO covered with dismay and con.
fusion, or so stepped in ingratitude,
that he stayed behind altogether.
Even the most willful of them all
cared too much for the singer for that.
So, half-hastening, half-lingering, the
villagers went to greet HIM.
When all We're gathered together in
the study they knew so well, and saw
him standing as they had so often seen
him, erect in the freight, watching
them with the old luminous, tender
eyes, now sinking, now sad, they fell at
his feet with cry, and, holding up
their worn and blotted scrolls, they
sobbed out their joy and their sorrow,
their struggle and their failure, like
children from their tasks at school
| The singer heard them with gentle
smile. He passed among them touch
ing now one and now another who
seemed most in need of comfort. By
and by hush fell upon them all
"My people," he began slowly, 81
have not lacked tidings of you in the
distant villages where l have dwelt. !
have heard how it has Jared with the
songs which 1 left you, and how you
have forgotten the melodies which i
taught you. You have spoilt their
beauty and their sweetness, and you
have perverted their meaning by addi.
tions and renderings of your own. But
because you have not forgotten me, the
singer, have come to you that I may
teach you again the songs which I sang
to you. Faulty indeed now would be
the opera if 1 should join all these
blotted scrolls into one, for the har.
monies are grown discordant You
must learn them over again. But that
| you may not fail another time, I wish
you to understand the full meaning of
each song that gave you, and how
necessary each is to the harmony of the
whole. Then, with renewed hope and
earnestness, you may set to work once
more. !, therefore, knowing how you
had failed, have brought with me, from
other villages which have better learned
| tho tasks which I set them, a choir of
singing men who will sing your opera
| for you, and show you how each song
goes, and its place in the whole"
He opened an inner door. There, in
the full glow of many candles, stood a
band of men and boys, and on their
faces was light that resembled the
| singers. They all carried scrolls writ
ten in the singers own hand. He him
self, stepping forward gave them tbs
signal, On sudden they began all at
once to sing, and the sound broke on
the people like a sea of light. They
raised their faces from the ground and
wiped away their tears. They seemed
bathed in the glorious harmony. With
wonder they looked at each other. One
said: Surely that cannot be my little
songl' and another: HCould mine have
sounded like that9'' And they clasped
each others hands as in the old davs,
and wept with JOY. Then the singer
began to sing above them all song
which they had never heard. 1t filled
the pauses of the other songs, and glor-
| lueu Jueul.
When the last notes died away, they
stood hushed and awed, and their faces
shone like the faces of the choir men,
They saidi ''Sing US again that new
song" But the singer answered, smil.
ingly: NAY, you must learn your own
songs first. Then will 1 sing you the
new one, completing your harmonies
with the master song" The villagers,
still clasping each others hands, with
their hearts full Of JOY and love of the
singer cried out, eagerly: ''Give us
again our old songs, that we may learn
to sing them Alright"
He, still smiling, took from the choir
men the fresh scrolls written ia his own
hand, and gave them to the villagers.
Then they went slowly back to their
quiet valley. But the singer stood
long in his study window, looking down
upon them from the cliff, He smiled
gently, and said softly to himself:
"Bide thou, and never be inpatient"
just as ne had so often said to his peo-
ple.-Christian Union.
| A 10