The Washington herald., 1915-04-12

! found mis- enthusiasm carrying him
away. II have never heard the song
before" he continued inquiringly.
Song The young chap laughed.
II was just teasing the brd-that's
all"
Teasing the bird" The singing
teacher repeated the words in bewil-
derment. He drew card from his
pocket as the youth smiled. He did
not care to be. laughed at-De
Retsky. Not lightly did honeyed
words pass his lips. and, once passed
he was accustomed to having them
treasured. The young man caught his
displeasure instantly.
Thank you" he murmured CRATE
fully. Il was smiling because my
father just told me my voice didn't
go very far when it came TO killing
weeds"
You should cultivate that voice
such voices belong to the world and
not TO the Individual" De Retsky
frowned.
He stopped as he noticed the change
of expression that had come over the
singers face as he studied the card
with evident recognition. The sing
ing master caught the transition there
that comes when what has been be-
fore but a distant dream. flowers into
him up and bore him swiftly down
the years long past. through riches
and poverty. through glory and heart
break. till he saw lad listening to
Mario. a lad with the same express
sion upon his face as was now upon
the face before him. a lad whose soul
was opening TO admit sole occu-
pant the persistent Ambition that had
been rapping so long a time. And
.lr 81 IL, "A
that lad. hardened the lineaments OF
the face. scanned that innocent coun-
tenance with threads of Experience.
as he walked the road of Life. a rocky.
thorny, stubbly road. the by-paths OF
which thronged with sorrows innu
cradle, A road that came to an abrupt
halt before house upon whose door
plate was
CARL DE RETSkY.
Voice Culture.
Unconsciously. he reached out TO
regain the hit of pasteboard from the
young farmers hand. then halted, for
the youths JOY at praise from the
singing master which had transfg
ured his face before had given place
to a hard. bitter expression. His fist
was tightly clenched as he gripped a
fence paling.
was husky. hoarse. Cultivate il, But
who will pay for the joh-who pays
He looked about him. al the tiny farm
house. the small farm, the shabby
outhouses. all indicative of small
means
''Yes-thats it. Who pays" De
Retsky muttcred. n faint smile upon
his lips. For he knew the ultimate
payment would not be found within
ca he
from wealth or that which went to
make wealth. but from the human
heart. Whose heart?
and for a long time. my dear
Bella, | could not keep that voice
from my ears. Everything was there
except the training. AS you know. I
have heard them all and have not
been rated the worst myself. but for
natural singing quality I have never
heard this young Henry Merwin's su-
perior"
Nine. Bella Holmes. queen of. cola
tura sopranos, smiled sympa theticalIy
as De Retsky excitedly paced the
floor.
1T merely shows" he continued,
how impossible it is. to dodge duty.
That voice belonged to the world.
But as I recalled what the struggle
meant, what must be gone through
before the summit is attained. did
not have the courage. Like a coward.
a traitor to my art. l fled" He smiled
whimsically. But il was to be. /
returned to my work. to the horrible
grind. listened to the sounds that
could never be made into song. and
always / was hearing the voice of the
farmer boy who teased the bird.
And my little words of encourage
ment had fallen upon a soul worthy
Of that divine voice. Henry Merwin
had come to Los Angeles and finally |
fought his way to the wagon seat OF
4 milk wagon. That was what he did |
when he found me. that is what he
is doing now-driving a milk wag-
on-'
81 was in a laundry the great So
prano murmured softly. as though to |
herself.