LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VI, Issue 689, 4 September 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

ABEL B.EES. [By Lynn Wood.] f Concluded.) Upon seeing me, he jumped up with alacrity, and shook me warmly by the hand, exclaiming, ' Well, Harry, my boy, I am glad to Fee you back again. Have you quite recovered your health !' ' Yes, thanks, uncle. I hope you're quite well, and Kate V ' Yes, Harry, we're both well and strong, thank God ; and as for Kate, I never knew her better, or in better spirits. I don't know what has come over the girl.' ' I am glad to hear it, I'm sure,' was my reply ; in not quite so sympathetic a tone as it should have been, I'm afraid. My uncle looked into my face with a look half of inquiry, but he gave it up, and at that moment Kate entered the room-

' Well, my dear,' iny uncle observed to her, ' I suppose you have already seen Harry,'

' Oh, yes, papa; I was in the hall, arranging with Mr Smith about the cantata, when cousin Harry came in.' ' Oh, that was Mr Smith, was it, Kate ? I only saw a greatcoat with a hat pulled over the collar. I hear you have improved wonderfully.' ' Oh, I am getting on pretty well, thank you. Poor Mr Smith is delicate rather, isn't ho, papa? He always wears his collar up in the winter time. But what do you think, cousin Harry, Mr Smith has composed a cantata, and the E Choral Society, with the church choir, are going to perform it at the schools. The organist says it's a wonderful piece of music, and he ought to know, you know, as papa pays him so much for training the choir.' ' Yes, cousin Kate, he certainly ought to know, according to your estimate,' I answered, not very warmly. My pretty little cousin had risen into quite a flutter of enthusiasm about this produc tion of her music-master, and somehow 1 felt but the minimum of interest in the affair. But I chid myself right heartily for a selfish monster when I saw the effect of my indifferent reply. Her sweet child-face, which had reflected so artlessly the extreme interest and delight awakened in her by her music-master's cantata, now presented to me an expression in which hurt feeling was a very decided element. ' You don't care very much for music, do you, cousin Harry ? But I think you couldn't help liking Mr Smith's cantata if you heard it.'

'But I do like music very much, cousin,' I replied; 'and I have no doubt, as you say so, that Mr Smith is a genius of the first magnitude.' 'Perhaps, my dear,' observed Kate's father, ' Harry would like to go with you to-morrow evening, and judge for himself of your master's musical capacity. What do you say, my boy ?' ' Oh, I shall be very glad indeed, if Kate will permit me the houour of being her escort.'

'Of course, you must come, cousin Harry.' Jim's arrival to lay the cloth for tea was the signal for me to retire precipitately, in order to mitigate somewhat my travelstained appearance. In the course of the evening we made all the necessary arrangements, and on the following evening my uncle, his daughter, and myself, after waiting anxiously for the cab, which always is late on festive occasions, were driven off in a high state of excitement to that useful building of the parish, the 'schools.' Dear Kate, looking very bewitching in her delicate well-made silk, and glossy braided tresses, over the arrangement of which the housemaid had dis covered a hitherto-hidden genius, was almost beside herself.

The substantial school-house had totally abandoned its sober business-like aspect, and now, with the light flaring through the windows and the excited crowd outside the door, over whom a couple of policemen exercised lordly sway, and the constant arrival of festively-clad visitors, it had all the appearance of a reckless dissipated house of entertainment. On arriving within the concert room we were taken in charge by a young gentleman in evening dress, who looked as warm and excited as if he had just run a mile race and lost the prize. With his assistance we made the entire circuit of the room, and after much nodding to right and left succeeded in reaching our seats very near the orchestra and a few steps from the door at which we entered.

Kate could scarcely endure the few minutes that elapsed before the piece commenced. The room was not ill-adapted for a musical performance. A very respectable string-band had been got together, and the choral society had long practised under a very fair conducter, therefore it was calculated to give at any rate a decent interpretation to a composition of not too difficult a character. Mr Smith's cantata being only in manuscript, of course we had no copy of the music, but we had been favoured with the words, which were taken from the translation of an old Norse poem, called 1 The Winds in Conflict.'

Bach wind dwelt on the blessings it brought to the earth, or excused the evils. The dissent and acclamations of the listeners formed the choruses. At the last the north wind takes up the argument, and, overpowering the rest, concludes it. ' O Harry, exclaimed my cousin ; ' isn't it a pity ! That pillar quite hides Mr Smith.' ' Does it, Kate ? But it doesn't matter, as he is not going to perform. He can conduct as well and perhaps better than if we all could see him. ' Yes, of course ; but '

The music, now commencing, broke off Kate's rejoinder, and not another word escaped her till it was all over. She had eyes or ears for nothing but the performers and the music.

The latter certainly was splendid. Such power and sweetness combined with so much originality I was totally/ unprepared for. Notwithstanding the slight knowledge of music that I had, I could not withhold the homage of wonder and admiration exacted from all by the master mind. Here was true genius. Nothing could equal the soft but weird melody which accompanied the commencement of the north wind's address. Through the answering choruses it was continued by the altos, then borne on by the tenors and basses, gradually deepening in breadth and volume, till in one wild and prolonged burst of harmony the cantata was brought to a close.

The excitement and acclamation that followed are quite beyond description. The lioor would certainly have given way or the roof been lifted off if the composer, Mr Smith—Mr Smith ? No ! What vision was that which rose before my bewildered eyes ? Who was that small well-shaped man, with the light flaxen hair and the large blue eyes, in which there beamed such a sublime light of triumph, raising him as an angelic being above his folloAvs ? We felt that he had listened to the strains of the golden harp and had treasured them in his heart, that out of that rich and benevolent fountain he might refresh and elevate and reiine the souls of his fellow-men. Who could it be but my erst boy-friend, the enigma which I failed to solve, Abel llees ! Now was the first time 1 had seen him face to face since that afternoon, many years ago, when we parted so abruptly.

Before him as he stood there, above the storm of applause, in his strange and tran quil beauty, I felt an abashment and shame I had never before experienced. I did not fully comprehend the feeling till my eyes, in following his glance, had passed from him to Kate at my side. Sitting perfectly still, with her hands clasped tightly in her lap and

her head bent slightly forward, she looked towards Abel and saw no one else. Who could fail to see in that sweet and guileless maiden one who had strayed within the charmed circle of Abel's wondrous genius, and had merged her soul in his ? There is little more to be told. Why should I tell of days spent in feverish activity and long nights in which I prayed for sleep, ay, and sometimes oblivion ; nights when I steeled myself against thoughts and longings which assailed me continually, till the sobs would break forth and my heart seemed ready to burst with pent-up anguish ! But this passed, and the time arrived, my hour of solemn triumph, when with calm demeanour and unshaken voice I joined the hands of two plighted lovers, and spoke the eternal words which gave another to wife her whom my heart loved. Abel was spared the heartsick struggle which nearly always accompanies the first step to fame. Once in the course of my visitation I mounted the stairs leading to Josiah Grew's garret. The door had to be forced, and when admittance was gained a ghastly spectacle explained the silence. The old man lay sideways on the edge of his miserable pallet, with one hand plunged in a glittering heap of gold contained in an open coffer. He was quite stiff and cold, and the surgeon, who soon appeared, stated that he must have died suddenly and at least two days. But, to turn from that sad and awful sight to one which, though partially a result, was its very antithesis. Old Grew's money, which was found to be considerable, fell, in default of a will, to his hated stepson, who, though shocked at such a terrible end, could not grieve very much for the man who would gladly have seen him die. It was many years after this, when Abel Rees was a familiar name to all lovers of music, that I went to make a prolonged stay, my health having begun to fail, at his beautiful house on the south coast. One glorious summer night we rambled out of his grounds, Abel, his wife, and myself, on to the cliff, and whilst wo were admiring the constellation of Orion, which was especially brilliant, my friend reminded me of that night in our boyhood, now so long paet, when I fouad him in tears outside the window. Then it was that he first recognised the voices which from his earliest childhood had called to him in melodious tones in all of nature's utterances —through the soughing of the trees, the carolling of the birds, or the ceaseless roar of the sea that great restless ocean ever chafing at the iron decrees of Him who rules the great storms of this world and of the heart of man, but who loveth best to manifest Himself in the still small voice of love and peace.