148 Some Passages in the Life of Deacon Goodman. [Marcli, 



'' Excuse me, my friend," replied tlie Minister, " it is your modesty 

 that now speaks ; you do understand music, you must understand music ; 

 or you never could sing Mozart with proper expression , and did you not 

 sing that most beautiful solo, which is worthy of an angel's ear and 

 voice T Now, this was all Greek to the Deacon, and like a sensible 

 man as he was, he always said nothing when he had nothing to say. 



*' You say truly," continued the Minister, " that singing is praying. 

 But to those who know nothing of music, it is praying in an unknown 

 tongue, and I am sure you are not Papist enough to approve of that ; 

 music is a language, and like other languages must be learned before it 

 can be spoken. When the deaf and dumb attempt to speak our common 

 language, they make strange noises, and still worse noises do we make 

 when, without the musical ear or the musical voice, we attempt to 



sing." 



Thus sensibly did that good Minister speak. The Deacon was a good 

 deal " struck up ;" though set in his loay, he was not a fool ; and only 

 needed to be touched in the right place. " It never appeared to me in 

 that light before," said the Deacon, thoughtfully. 



" And yet, my friend, it is the true light,'' said the Minister. " And 

 now let me give you a word of advice : Go home, and take your old seat 

 on Sunday; and never again attempt to sing in meeting. For if your 

 heart is right, your ear is untuned, and your voice, though kind, is any 

 thing but musicaL" The Deacon "said nothing, but thought the 

 more." He mounted old Mag. The angel of reflection came down, and 

 sat upon her mane, and looked him full in the face. Eeader, does that 

 seem incongruous ? Is the old mare's mane an improper seat for an 

 angel ? I am afraid you are proud. AYho once rode on an ass ? 



He approached his own village. The reason for his errand abroad had 

 been strongly suspected, and they were all on the look out for his return. 

 There stood the choir leader. " Welcome home. Deacon," said he, " hope 

 we have not lost you yet." " Get out," said the Deacon, with a good- 

 natured but rather sheepish look ; and on he went. There stood the 

 Minister. "W^elcome home, Deacon, I hope we have not lost you yet." 



i^ Get ;" he was just going to say get out, but habitual reverence 



for the Minister cut him short. He looked at the Minister, and the 

 Minister looked at him, and both burst into a fit of laughter. The 

 choir leader came up and took the Deacon's hand, and joined in the mer- 

 riment. At the front door and windows of his own house, were his 

 wife and daughters, and two or three of the singing girls, '* all of a 

 titter." They had seen and heard his interview with the Minister, and 

 knew that all was well. 



