Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1909-08-16
A Chance to Scrub,

The Sparrows were chirpng happily
in the warm sunshine, while a rafting
street piano jingled off it's supply of
tunes so fast and merrily that the
small cripples, ranged in pillowed rows
for their afternoon airing along the
piazza of the children's hospital had
much ado to keep up as they beat time
with their crutches.
Propped in helpless heap against
the balustrade, one little fellow. too
much strapped and handaged to thump
crutch, peercd through the railing
down into the street, and feebly queried
the passers-by:
Say, mister, amt that sweet music?"
Duncan McGregor heard the gleeful
question, and smile lifted the gloom
from his troubled face an instant, as
he glanced up at the wee, cheerful in
valid Then his eyes grew heavy again
with the old disappointment
1t was six months since he had left
home. What splendid successes he had
expected to find in the business world
of the big city! How the fellows had
envied him, and glumDled about their
scanty opportunities. All, the good he
had planned to do! Well he remember
ed the talk he gave before the young
peoples society, about the city's I'M
limited field for service. He was pres
ident of the society. Then had come
the long, dreary search for work, and
finally the humble position in a great
banking house.
What chance was there for reaching
the top when hundred men We're
ahead OF him? He had looked for OPP
portUnities of doing good in the great
churches. There seemed no place for
him in their wel-equipped benevolences
Financiers and college professors led
the various organizations. How paltry
his dimes looked as he slipped then into
the collection plates heaped high with
bills. What good could a man do on
ten dollars week?
At last he had quit going to church
He wrote less and less to the home
folks The lonely vastness of the city
bore down upon him. His own insig-
nilicance paralyZed him. And every
afternoon, as he returned from work,
the pill0Wed rows on the hospital piaZ-
"a reminded him bitterly of his own
scattered hopes. Once or twice he felt
half angry with the little, crippled
things for trying to find pleasure in
their poor, broken lives, when he knew
so we'll how useless il all was. But the
wee invalids persisted in being happy
nevertheless. One gay little chap
danced lettering jgs, while 4 daring
hunchback was forever attempting rare
acrobatic feats Will. his neighbors
canes all to the time of a jingling street
melody. Sometimes the young man
dimly wondered that the city Ministries
should play on such a dull, unprofita-
BILE corner.
One Saturday afternoon in late sum-
mer he missed the music. Suddenly he
realized that he had not heard any all
the week. He glanced up inquiringly
at the small inValidS-ranged in silent
listlesS rows.
Say, mister, don't you miss the mu-
sic?" wistfully questioned the little fell
low of straps and bandages. I'VE amt
going to have any more" he continued
in a thin, quavering voice, "'cause
Mrs Shay, the old scrubwoman, is
dead, and there amt nobody to pay
the organs and pianos to come here any
more"
McGregor stood very still in the dull
quivering heat. He was seeing things
BY and by he oingled the money in his
pocket cheerfully-the dimes no longer
seemed paltry. On his way he sent
back a street piano supplied with
enough pennies to last through dozen
tunes.
The next morning he went to church.
He shook hands. heartily with three
lonely-looking people, and helped an
old lady find the hymns.
All day Monday he was astonished at
the number of important details he had
been ncglecting in his department. He
stayed after business hours, straight
ening things out.
The year went rolling by. One day
the president of the bank sent for Nc
Gregor. you seem to have a genius
for Details" he said, abruptly. "NoW
we have plenty who can do the big
things hut we are always shoyt of men
who can be trusted on important detail
work. So it's our intention to push
you right along up into the places
which need you most. By the way" he
added, quiZzically, as Duncan sought
vaguely for the dOor-knOb, who taught
you the bigness of little things?"
IAN old scrubwoman," replied the
young man.-Youth's Companion.
Current biographies of players fire.