A LESSON FROM A BELL.-WALTER S. SMITH.
There once was a founder who trafficked in bells.
He lived-well, no matter, his history tells.
His craft he had followed a dozen of years
In modest contentment, along with his peers.
One morning he saw in the paper he read,
A church would be built, and he mentally said:
"That parish is wealthy and probably vain,
And for such a parish it's certainly plain
The building committee, in choosing a bell,
To please such a parish must choose very well;
And further, I'm conscious I never have made
So heavy a bell while I've been at the trade;
But, still, I would try it." And so he sat down
And wrote to the chairman, one Israel Brown:
"Dear sir: I perceive by the paper I get,
That you are intending to build. Have you yet,
In furnishing, purchased a bell for the fane?
If not, I'm a founder, and, though rather plain,
I think I can suit you. Please write me and say
How soon you will need it, and so-forth, John Day."
The chairman, as soon as he'd finished this note,
And talked with his colleagues, thus hastily wrote:
"Dear sir: You're a stranger. We are not aware
How well you are fitted for duties so rare.
Have you an acquaintance who knows of your skill,
Whom we may consult here? Or is it your will
To gather the metals and fashion a bell,
And risk our acceptance? Please answer. Farewell."
The founder was sure he had skill in his trade,
So answered, "I'll try it;" and soon it was made.
It measured the size the committee required,
And weighed just as much as the parish desired,
Aud had such a clapper and wheel as it ought;
And hung as they ordered - so Mr. Day thought.
But when the committee inspected the thing
By weight and by measure, and hearing it ring,
They said they were sorry, and thus, in reply:
"We cannot accept it "--but did not tell why.
The founder was puzzled. He listened in pain;
Declared himself snubbed, and began to complain:
"That bell is a beauty. It surely is right.
It measures in circuit, diameter, height,
In breadth and in conics, and everything else,
The rightful proportions belonging to bells."
Thus angrily reasoned the man to himself,
And turned to deposit the bell on a shelf.
The bell was so heavy, the shelf was so high,
His crow-bar was needed, and struck, passing by.
It happened that moment to properly swing,
And when the bar struck it, it gave forth a ring.
He looked up, astonished. He had not before
Observed that its ring was a musicless roar.
He smote it again, and thus tested its tone,
And mourned the bad temper and haste he had shown.
"It's true, I believe, that in matter of weight
And circuit and hangings there is no debate.
I've followed directions in closest detail,
And yet there is something awry in my bell.
Good bell-wrights look less to a beautiful mold,
And more to a beautiful tone, I am told."
So changing his wrath to a genial respect,
He wrote a new letter and sent it direct:
"Dear sir: If you please, I will try it again
Before you pronounce me a failure." And then
The chairman politely responded: "You may."
But hinted a doubt to importunate Day.
The founder, however, whose word was at stake,
Who'd boasted somewhat of the bell he should make,
Who'd used much exertion to gather the tin,
And bought extra copper and stirred some gold in,
Was thankful, indeed, for a quarter's delay,
And trustingly studied the bells of the day.
His thoughts, retrospecting, and firmly resolved
On finding his fallacy, slowly revolved:
"My metals are certainly pure as I need,
I measured them all with a scrupulous heed,
Then why should I fail in producing the tone?
Ah! yes, I bethink me; no reason is known
For precious additions of costly alloy;
In fact, it's asserted that gold will destroy
The music bell-metal alone would discourse.
I guess my additional matter's the source
Of failure this time. So, in molding again
I'll drop out all metals save copper and tin.
My measure is faultless, at least," said the man.
“Well,—thicker and shorter might favor the plan.
I notice, though made of pure copper and tin,
The tone is not good if the body is thin."
So, heating his furnace, he altered his mold
And melted his bell. Then removing the gold
And adding a little more copper and tin,
He lifted the mixture and poured it all in.
It had not done cooling until he felt sure
The shape would be right and the tone would be pure.
He took out the cast, then he struck it a blow
In order to prove what he knew to be so;
When music as sweet as the violin's swell
Broke forth on the air and in cadences fell.
So seating himself he took paper and ink,
And wrote Mr. Brown: "My dear sir, I now think,
Unless you are prejudiced—you and the rest—
You'll find that my bell is as good as the best."
The building committee, with dignified mien,
And doubtful misgivings-all plain to be seen-
And rather through pity than confident hope,
Re-measured, re-weighed, and then tugged at the rope.
The clang they expected was not in the stroke,
But music instead; and the frank chairman spoke:
"The founder has triumphed! His patience and skill
Have conquered defects. So, if it's your will,
I'll write him a letter, and say we've agreed;
His bell is exactly the bell that we need!
The members assented, the founder was paid;
The bell was hung up in the belfry and staid;
And there for a score or more years it has hung,
And gladdens the parish each time it is rung.
This story may teach what composers should know:
That books are not judged by their lustre or glow.
That pureness of tone and directness of aim,
And plainness of style (which enhances the same),
Will please and instruct more than apples of gold
In pictures of silver. The founders of old
Did furnish the secret for molds of the muse,
Suggesting the metals verse-founders should use.
Each song is a bell for the parish mankind;
The metals essential are manner and mind.
The precious alloy apt to find its way in
Is gush, fervor, rhapsody-mixed with the tin.
The French and the Latin which often are stirred
By scholarly (?) writers to grace a plain word;
The German and Spanish, in word or in phrase—
So ill-understood by their readers-always
Detract from the tone and reduce the effect,
Despoiling most readers of what they expect.
So, too, as to body. An article's strength
Is not necessarily due to its length.
The "thicker-and-shorter" plan does just as well
In writing a book as in molding a bell,
For, though it be made of pure copper and tin,
The tone is not good if the body is thin.
THE LITTLE WHITE HEARSE.-J. W. RILEY.
As the little white hearse went glimmering by-
The man on the coal cart jerked his lines,
And smutted the lid of either eye,
And turned and stared at the business signs;
And the street-car driver stopped and beat
His hands on his shoulders and gazed up street
Till his eye on the long track reached the sky-
As the little white hearse went glimmering by.
As the little white hearse went glimmering by-
A stranger petted a ragged child
In the crowded walk, and she knew not why,
But he gave her a coin for the way she smiled; And a bootblack thrilled with a pleasure strange As a customer put back his change
With a kindly hand and a grateful sigh—
As the little white hearse went glimmering by.
As the little white hearse went glimmering by-
A man looked out of a window dim,
And his cheeks were wet and his heart was dry-
For a dead child even were dear to him!
And he thought of his empty life and said:
"Loveless alive, and loveless dead,
Nor wife nor child in earth or sky!"—
As the little white hearse went glimmering by.
DON'T USE BIG WORDS.
In promulgating your esoteric cogitations, or articula ting your superficial sentimentalities and amicable, philosophical or psychological observations, beware of platitudinous ponderosity. Let your conversational communications possess a clarified conciseness, a compacted comprehensibleness, coalescent consistency, and a concatenated cogency. Eschew all conglomerations of flatulent garrulity, jejune babblement, and asinine affectations. Let your extemporaneous descantings and unpremeditated expatiations have intelligibility and veracious vivacity, without rhodomontade or thrasonical bombast. Sedulously avoid all polysyllabic profundity, pompous prolixity, psittaceous vacuity, ventriloquial verbosity, and vaniloquent vapidity. Shun double-entendres, prurient jocosity, and pestiferous profanity, obscurant or apparent.
In other words, talk plainly, briefly, naturally, sensibly, truthfully, purely. Keep from "slang;" don't put on airs; say what you mean; mean what you say. don't use big words!
ON THE RIVER.-HOWARD W. LONG.
Down the rippling, dancing river,
On whose banks the tall reeds quiver,
In the gentle summer air,
Slowly glides their boat, as roaming
Aimlessly, they watch the gloaming
Settling o'er the scene so fair.
And their hearts are beating gladly-
Pulses leaping wildly, madly!
Life seems all a happy dream!
Wherein earth, so bright and cheerful,
Harbors nothing sad or tearful,
All is tranquil as the stream-
Flowing gently; rising, falling;
As 'tis ever gaily calling
Into view some new delight.
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