Activate Javascript or update your browser for the full Digital Library experience.
Previous Page
–
Next Page
OCR
Ocroper 19, 1907.
THE GIRLY’
COMPANION.
OSCE EEK ERE ARE LEE CRE EEE EE
Her Musical Education.
By Bertha Burnham Bartlett
QLRPPPIP
REE RERAERRA KK EREERR EEE
.~. Mary T— could not understand why sbe
should be thwarted in her ambition to be-
come first a student and then a master of
music. To learn the, names of the notes,
-to know the tones, to understand the secrets
of chords and discords, of harmony and o
composition—surely this was a laudable
ambition.
Instead, the homely duties of a house-
mother were hers. The eldest daughter in a
little parsonage home, where the mother
was too feeble to with the
“duties of life as found in kitchen and liv-
ing-room, she found neither time nor money
to enable her to gratify her heart’s desire.
She grew morose; her
_ deprivations; sullenly t
her daily tasks, neither giving nor receiy-
‘ing pleasure in the opportunities that came
to her to wait upon the invalid mother, the
troubled father, and the care-requiring
younger brother and sisters.
And then one day, when for months no
one had seen her with a smile upon her
face, so unhappy was she—she told me the
story herself years afterward—one day a
stranger preached in her father’s stead, and
among the words to which she listened were
these :
“The lives about us are human nstrue
ments; let us play upon them. We mu:
study to do this if we would become thas.
ters of the delicate instruments, yet the
toil will repay us in the music which we
may bring into existence.”
With the thought burning itself into her
yery soul she went to her home, and then
with sudden resolve set herself to the ac-
complishment of the task pointed out to
he:
a
Tr.
She prepared the evening meal with a
deftness which led the younger members of
the family to express their amazement open-
ly, but which the father noted simply with
a loving smile of appreciation. To his joy,
almost unspeakable, Mary auswered the
look with a smile such as in her early girl-
- hood days had given her the name of “ Sun-
shine.
Beside the invalid’s chair that evening she
recounted the story of her new-found pur-
pose in life, and her determination to become
an apt pupil of the Master of Divine Har-
monies.
Yet it was not an easy thing to do; the
habit of months was strong, but because of
. her earnestness she persevered, and with the
..energy which she would have given to the
‘ acquirement of an ordinary musical edu-
Mending
called her
and with smiling zeal she de-
«termined that they should be perfectly
“learned.” The daily housework was her
* “exercises,” and though discordant notes
‘erept in some times, she still endeavored to
look pleasant and to correct the faulty ren-
dition—the “ fingering” as she facetiously
termed the accomplishing of her daily
~ duties.
-Gradually she became the musician she
sought to be. The young brother who was
being drawn into undesirable friendships,
began to find Mary’s pleasant way a win-
some quality, and responded to it with the
boyish frankness which Father and Mother
T— had begun to mourn over as a yanish-
ing characteristic. Clara and Bessie, the
twims, again found the older sister the pat-
tern after whom they copied as in their
early childhood days. The minister himself
more certainly sounded forth the battle song
of victory through faith, while the mother
softly breathed the swan-song of peace.
“As the years went by the home-duties
were left behind, for other duties. claimed
er, These she sometimes called “ arpeg-
gios” and “ fugues” and “ melodies.” In
a school for girls she became a- teacher.
Tuere the “hard cases” were her invari-
-able study. The young women came to her
with their troubles and were helped by her
sweet womanliness into better, nobler lives.
On one occasion a girl, wholly unmanage-
able, was expelled, but the faithful teacher
still followed her with loving counsel and
trustful hope, until at length the human
instrument so nearly ruined began to re-
spond as others had done to the touch of
the master, and in later years, as a physi-
t
{
cian, brought sweetest harmony into lives
of suffering and sorrow.
In the afternoon of her life the teacher
still “ plays upon the instruments of man.
strings.” If the old-time longing for mas-
tery of piano and organ ever comes to her,
no one knows it. She is more than com-
pensated for the lack of that small ac-
complishment by the greater joy,that is
hers. And the melodies which she evokes—
ah, they are grand, those strains of music!
And as the years go by with an ever in-
creasing yolume the melodies will sound
forth the glorious achievements of the Mas-
ter Composer to whose teaching Mary T—
was faithful.
A CANAL BOAT SERMON,
BY ELIZABETH HARRIS,
Straight ahead stretched the canal,
broad ribbon of brown water, which just now
had taken on some of the sunset coloring.
It was almost picturesque. But it was not
this of which the young man at the locks
was thinking, but rather of the inviting ap-
pearance of the slow-moving canal boat, carry-
ing a load of grain from one of the lake ports
inland. Ile had been walking for two days,
and his feet were almost blistered.
oat’ en who sat on the deck of the canal
red rocking-chair noticed the
wisttulness of his face and the tired circles
under his eyes. She bent forward to speak
to her father; and that worthy man, who
could resist her nothing, gave himself the
satisfaction of a grunt.
“Prob’ly he’s the most worthless kind of a
tramp. But I reckon he’s pretty near beat
out. As you say, it won’t hurt him to give
him a lift.”
The young man accepted the invitation
with an alacrity which suggested that this
was what he had been waiting for. e@
stepped aboard, he was tempted to explair
he was not what be seemed. The conscious-
ness that his story would not impress his
listeners as plausible kept him silent. He
had left home for a canoeing trip, and one
fine morning, on the St. Lawrence River, his
little craft had met with a mishap, He had
escaped with his life and nothing more. His
father was away from home. We had tele-
graphed an uncle for funds but had received
no response; and so he, Eric Watson, the fas-
tidious, was sleeping in barns at night and
tramping homeward by day. His rough canoe-
ing costume did not “em inappropriate for a
knight of the road. S a matter of as-
tonishment to him that it seemed so easy for
people in general to accept him as a tramp.
fo sit on the deck of the cana! boat, re-
laxing his wearied muscles, and yet feel that
was on his way home, was luxurious.
Erie leaned back against the pile of ropes
with a sigh of content. The girl in the
rocking-chair eyed him = gravely. “ Maybe
you’re hungry?” she suggested.
“Maybe I am! I shouldn't wonder!” Eric
owned with a laugh. And she disappeared in
the little. cabin. It was some minutes before
she emerged with a steaming bowl in her
o
o
hand. ‘Father and I had stew for supper,”
she said, ‘‘and this was left. I heated it up
for
you.’
To the half-famished youth, the plain fare
seemed delicious. Ile ghed to himself,
wondering what his friends. vould say if they
could see him eating with such avidity. I
his own circle he had the reputation of being
quite an ‘epicure., When the bowl was empty
he looked gratefully at his hostess. “It’s
very good of you,” he said, ‘feeding a hun-
gry chap that hasn’t any claim on you.
“But you have, you know,” the girl an-
swered. Then, as he stared at her, she went
on, “Father and I have a plenty. I never
knew what it was to be hungry, and I won't,
as long as father can work and take care of
me. And so I tell him that we owe some-
thing to the folks that aren’t so well off. I
have a good deal of time to spend thinking,”
she added in a tone of explanation, “ and
right from this boat I see so many folks who
are in hard luck-that I feel as if it were
our place to give a lift when we can.
The shadows of night blotted out the colors
of the sunset, and the canal boat pursued its
placid course along this water highway. But
the youth who lay on the deck under the
stars was doing some hard thinking. Was it
true that there is-a definite ratio between
possession and obligation? “I guess she’s
right,” Eric Watson owned to himself, “ And
it’s my turn to give somebody a lift.”
——
IN THE ORANGE GROVE,
BY ALICE M’NAUGHTON. |
“They can’t miss’ a.few oranges, I’m
going to pick one or two. I’ve always wanted
to pick an orange from the tree.”
“Sip them inside your blouse, Nell. No-
body will ever know, Isn't it lucky you had
t made so full and puffy?”
The two girls stood in a California orange
grove, looking up and wn the rows. of
shrublike trees. It was their first experience.
The sight of the golden globes among the
green leaves gave them a feeling as if at last
5
some of their dreams were coming tru
“T never have been quite sure that oranges
grew on trees before,’ Nell declared laugh-
ingly. ‘And I can’t be positive till I pick
one off. You’re sure there isn’t anyone in
sight? Here goes!”
With her friend’s assistance the stolen
booty was stowed away. ‘ Nobody would ever
suspect,” Maud’ declared reassuringly. But
Nell’s responsive laugh was rather nervous.
“You can’t imagine how guilty I feel. ‘m
sure I shouldn’t like to
profession. Oh, dear! there be comes!”
She was right. The gray-haired owner of
the ranch was marching toward them, and,
to Nell's guilty conscience, there seemed some-
thing formidable in his stride.
0 you suppose he could have seen us?”
she asked in a frightened whisper. But be-
fore Maud could reply, the ranchman had
spoken for himself.
“ Good- morning, ladies! Just help yourself
to the oranges if you like them. ese on
this row we think are an especially fine vari-
ety.” Then, as he met their puzzled gaze, he
added, “You know we Californians are
rather proud of our fruit, and we like to
have strangers who come along sample it,
and satisfy themselves that it can’t be beat
anywhere.”
“And to think we did it!” mourned Nell
later. “To think we ate these oranges and
really hadn’t the strength of will to say no
when he insisted upon our taking that lovely
basket of fruit. And oh, Maud, to think of
those two dreadful, little, stolen oranges
hidden in my blouse all the time! Mow
clever we thought we were to overreach him!
I don’t believe I shall ever enjoy an orange
again.”
But she did and many of them, before she
left the state of golden fruits and golden
hearts; and learned a lesson besides which
stayed with her for all time.
—.+——
“Byvery one of us needs some influence and
some impulse outside of ourselves to compel
us to strive for our ideals. The best impulse
that ean uplift the life is the friendship of
Jesus. He says ‘Ye are my friends if ye
do whatsoever I command you.
adopt crime as my.
WE WOULD DO AS MUCH.
Are we not often made to blush by the
willingness of converted natives of heathen
lands to do God's work as compared with
our own willingness? The Rey. J. S. Bow
kell, stationed at San Salvador, tells the fol
Jowing in connection with the annual meet-
ings of the mission:
“There was much to be done by way of
preparation. There was a great ‘palaver’
of finding hospitality. My wife took up the
matter, and it necessitated many such conyer-
sations as qe followin,
“eG day! How are yon to-day?’
“*Oh, van a little bit well
“* Now, you know the annual meetings are
coming on, and I want to know where to
send the visitors; so how many can you
take?’
“* Well, ningwa, I haven’t got a big house,
but I will try and manage a dozen or fifteen.”
—_.+——_.
A STRIP OF BLUE,
I do not own an inch of of Jand,
But all I see is min
The orchard and the mowing fields,
e lawns and gardens fine,
The winds my tax collectors are,
They bring me tithes divine,
With scents and subtle eseneess
A tribute rare and fi
And, more magnificent than all,
My window keeps for me
A glimpse of blue immensity,
A little strip of sea.
Here sit I, as a little child;
The threshold of God’s door
Is that clear band of chrysoprase ;
Now the vast temple
The blinding glory of the dome
I bow my head before.
Thy universe, O God, is home,
In height or depth, to
Yet here upon thy footstool green
Content am I to be,
Glad when it opes unto my need
Some sealike glimpse of thee.
—Lucy Larcom.
Wild Rose Pincushion,
uch like a wild rose is this dainty |Sbe went on with her,
pincushion. fashioned in pink and green.
a circle four and one-half inches in diameter
of pale green satin. Gather at the edges and
stuff with cotton to form a cushion. Cut)
five pieces of pink satin ribbon eight inches
long and two and one-half wide, making them
into petals by doubling together and joining
the ends under the green ball, The loops
thus formed are folded under to make points
and caught lightly with pink thread. The
cushion is hung with narrow green ribbon.
. A Convenience for Travelers.
A girl came into the tollet-room of a Pullman
not long ago with a little article in her hands
which made two or three women
look at her with honest envy. At
first sight it: was only a square
piece. of heavy linen, bound with
tape and provided with — pockets,
very similar to the cases which are
carried in the grips of most travel-
ers. And so it was
similar, but, as it
proved, ~ ther
something hou
which S isthegutahed
it from the majority.
At the two corners of
one end two pieces of
tape were sewed, and
te girl tied them
ind her waist
though the Mttle inet
square had” n
apron. Then cit an-
peared that all the
pockets opened the
same way, 80 at
nothing of their con-
tents would fall out
when the apron was
in place. There was
a pocket for the comb,
and a larger one for
the brush. The tooth
brush and soap were held in pockets lined
with oiled silk, and a similarly protected one
held the little sponge. There were two or
three leaves for holding pins, stickpins, and
the like, and a small loop through which the
manicure scissors were suspended. The girl
stood before the mirror in the swaying train,
with every utensil in place for use.
other women were trying to find some place
to put the toilet necessities they were not
using, and every other minute were stooping
to pick* up. the-soap. which had . slipped
through their fingers, or a fugitive hairpin.
toilet deftly and
Cut | rapidly, and more than one on-looker resolved
to have a convenience of the,same sort before
she spent another night on the sleeper. The
size and the number of pockets may be varied
according to the taste of the maker. The in-
| dispensable things are the two tapes which
enable the user to tie the case around her
waist like an apron, and so have all her
toilet articles within easy reach.
A Ribbon Workbag.
A diminutive workbag, which, for its size,
is the most convenient article of the kind yet
discovered, is made of two shades of green
ribbon, the darker being three inches and a
lf in width, and the lighter two
inches. A pasteboard circle two
inches and a half in circumference
forms the bottom of the bag, and
this is covered on both sides by the
wider ribbon.
A yard and a half of each ribbon
necessary for the
body of the bag. Put
the lower edges of the
two together an
stitch them on the ma-
chine around the bot-
tom. Now divide the
inside narrow ribbon
into six or eight little
pockets, by feather-
stitching them verti-
feather-
should, of
be done on the
and it will
bavye an ornamental
effect, in addition to
serving a practical
stitshing =
cours:
outside,
use.
Half an inch from
the top edge of the
wide ribbon baste a
nal inch ribbon of the
shade as the
narrow, and stitch it on the machine on both
edges. Through this the draw-string is to be
run, It may be a narrow ribbon matching
the widest used, or a silk cord and tassel,
which should also be a match.
Now gather the inside ribbon on the bottom
edge and sew it firmly to this circle, and the
‘he | bag is complete.
Owing to the number of little pockets it is
very convenient, and can be slipped into the
satchel when a larger workbag would be very -
much in the wa, ‘
