Year: 1874




shall see before we are done with him
Well for him that he possessed fortitnde ant
persistence. He asked no mans advice
touching the manner of life he should pur.
sue.


AT the age of two-and-twenty, Philip
| Bartol came home from sea with his mind
made up that he would 60 to sea no more,
at least for the present. Not as most
young men study did Philip Bartol study.
He did not cast about for the greatest sum
of present comforts and joys. In the sol
itude of his chamber, at an obscure tavern,
he sat and pondered. The mental picture
he drew was old age. What kind of an
old age would he like to arrive at? That
was the question in his mind and after .
long and serious study he concluded what
he would like for the surroundings of his
advancing years; and he also planned
what he would do toward the desired end.


Aud Philip Bartol went out and bought
him a knapsacll, into which he packed q
change of clothing, and then, in stout,
homely garb-such garb as toilers weal
he was ready to set forth.


And despite the bronze upon his skin,
and the garb of toll that clothed him. Phil
ip was handsome man. He was tall and
stout; full and perfect in every manly
point erect and firm: with a magnificent
head upon his broad shoulders: and face
in which the dauntless light of honor and
courage enhanced an otherwise classic
beauty.


Where now, PHILIPPE asked friend.
who had observed his notes of preparation.
Into the country, Tom, in search of a
home"


hoN,a


"Yes. A home That's what | am
going to try to find"


And on the next day Philip went away
1t was on an evening in June that Phil
ip Bartol arrived in the quiet village of
Ashton, and here he sought for work. He
found it upon the farm of worthy man.
| who was glad enough to secure the SER
vices of so able and honest an appearing
| laborer. The farmer was Mr.. Larrabee,
and deacon of the village church. His
dwelling was in the village, his broad
| acres stretched away over the hills and
wales beyond.


Philip worked well, and as he worked
he sang. Saturday evening came, and
the church choir met at the Deacon's house
| to practice.


Would not Philip join them?
Without pride Philip felt that his voice
would be help to them, and he joined
them cheerfully.


A help indeed Such voice had never
been heard in Ashton before. God makes
our native leaders, and we recognize and
adopt them. Philip Bartol could not sing
in that choir and not lead it.
OF course he sat in the singer-seats on
the Sabbath, and thus he leaped, at a
bound, into the good graces of the fair
country town.


On that Saturday evening, in the Dea-
cons parlor, Philip caught Il sound that
startled him. 1t was a female voice, as
clear as a flute, and as soft as the dulc-
mer of mocking bird. In its lowest and
in his highest strains there was not harsh
cadence. 1t was sweet and pnre, and sweet
and pure only. Such a voice is not only
attractive. but it is an index to the inner
being. Philip looked upon the owner of
the voice, and he was not disappointed.
a girl just bursting into perfect woman
hood-perhaps twenty years of age
healthful and glowing her form exactly
such as Phidias would have chosen for his
model of female perfection-and her dress
simple and neat. Her face was always
happy when she was singing with her
friends-and the rich brown curls foated
down over her shoulders, sweeping back
from her fair, handsome brow. with not
a particle of ornamentation save the wave
and the gloss which nature had given
them.


At the first recess the deacon, who had
been an appreciative listener, introduced
his new hand to the other singers, and
thus Philip found that the girl of the sweet
voice and sunny face was Clara Palmer,
the daughter of the village physician.
When they resumed their places for
singing again, Philip was placed in the
centre. These people were not envious.
They recognized the quality of this new
singer and they sought at once to make
proper use of it,


And thus Philip found himself by the
side of Clara Palmer.


Those who have sung in choir, or in u
chorus, know how the weaker lean upon
the stronger-how the timid depend upon
the leading of the sure and confident. AS
naturally as water runs down hill and as
soft clouds float in the air did Clara. when
she caught the strong, true voice. lean up
on it, She leaned upon its prompt, bold
rhythm, and upon its rich and exact har-
mony She felt that she was singing bet
ter than she had ever sung. and others
! may have thought the same.


''Oh,n cried Nettie Blake, when there
came pause in the singing, "why can't
we sing the Anthem of the Redeemed p
Mr.. Bartol and Clara can sing the duet, |
am sure"


The idea was caught up eagerly by the
others, and Philip consented to try it.
The duet was one of the most beautiful
compositions ever put into church music,
and Philip knew it and he also knew
that much of the effect would depend up
on the organ accompaniment.-The
organist was lady, and he asked her if
she could play it, She said she could try
She tried and blundered. Philip sat down
and played it for her. She caught the
inspiration, and succeeded upon the next
trial.


And then came the trial with Clara
She had tried it often, but had never salts
fed herself. Now, however, she had a
guide, sure and reliable. With her own
surprising voice and ear it was easy to
| keep time and tune with Philip.
And so the Anthem of the Redeemed
was sung on Sunday, and the people We're
enchanted.