MR. COVILLE RENEWS HIS SINGING.
THAT is a very beautiful story of the clergyman who visited an insane-asylum,
and was attacked by a maniac, but who broke into a song, and sang it so clearly
and sweetly, that the maniac was subdued; and, when he stopped from exhaustion,
the maniac cried for more, and he sang more; and the maniac gave up. This
story made a very strong impression on Mr. Coville of this village; and,
the more he thought of it, the more he was impressed by it. A day or two
after reading this beautiful story, Mr. Coville's boy caught a boy named
Phillips near the foundry, and filled his hair with tar. The boy went straight
home, of course, with his shocking-looking head; and, as his home is on the
same street as that of the Covilles, Mr. Phillips hurried there at once.
He vociferated into Mr. Coville's ear the cause of his visit, and requested
that Master Coville be passed out, and cut up between them. Mr. Coville expressed
his indignation at the outrage his son had committed, and promised to punish
him severely for it. But this was not what Mr. Phillips wanted. Instead of
comforting him, the promise appeared to irritate him. He danced out to the
walk, and clutched an imaginary boy by the hair, and struck an imaginary
boy in the face with a ferocity that was dreadful, and then danced back again,
and howled for Master Coville to be brought
out. Mr. Coville was frightened
at his vehemence, and sought by all the powers of persuasive oratory to soothe
him; but he was not to be quelled. At every fresh argument he repeated his
singular demonstration, with such intimidating additions as snapping his
fingers, and shaking his fist in the face of his neighbor. Having exhausted
his reasoning, and Phillips becoming more inflamed all the while, Mr. Coville
was about to beat a retreat for the safety of his own person, when the beautiful
story of the clergyman and the maniac suddenly flashed into his mind. Here
was sure and unexpected relief. Mr. Phillips had danced down to the walk,
and was dancing back, with a half-dozen imaginary boys in tow, whom he was
belaboring in a most murderous manner; but Mr. Coville did not mind him.
He felt that he had the turbulent mass of passion within his control; and,
as he realized his power, a faint smile of triumph and pleasure stole into
his face. Then he began to sing. It is years since Mr. Coville indulged in
the luxury of vocal music, and his catalogue of pieces is neither large nor
varied; but he took up the first one that presented itself, and rolled it
out. It was "A Life on the Ocean Wave,"—a very pretty piece, and quite popular
when Mr. Coville retired from singing. It is a long time, as we have said,
since Mr. Coville had occasion to use his voice; and it worked a trifle awkward
and uneven at first: but
he remembered that his purpose was a noble one,
and he did not shrink from criticism. As he advanced in the song, he was
pleased, but not surprised, to see Phillips first stare at him, then drop
his hands at his side, and afterward draw back, and look around, as if he
were planning an escape. But Mr. Coville did not stop: he gathered strength
as he proceeded; and turning his eyes to heaven, and keeping time with his
feet, roared along through the measure with amazing force. He had got up
on the highest note he could find, and was bursting into a perfect apoplectic
howl of melody, when he felt himself caught abruptly by the collar, and the
next instant was made aware that be was on his back on the walk, and that
a man looking dreadfully like Phillips was pounding his head against the
frozen ground, and doing something with his ribs that appeared to be uncalled
for. Then he felt himself slide through a planing-mill, and, opening his
eyes, saw that Phillips was gone, and that Mrs. Coville was trying to get
him on his feet. In this direction he gave her all the help possible, and,
getting up, looked around for the planing-mill, but, not seeing it, allowed
her to lead him into the house. To all her questions she could get no answer;
but occasionally, while she was applying the liniment, he would start up
with "A Life on the Ocean," and then suddenly stop, smile faintly, and softly
rub his nose.
It was several hours before he acted natural again; but aside
from conceding that possibly Phillips didn't have the right kind of madness,
or he himself may not have got hold of the right tune, he shows no disposition
to converse on the matter. Sunday afternoon, young Coville, to be smart,
and thinking that his father was asleep in the chair, undertook to start
the tune for the edification of his mother; and the futility of that air
for enchaining an audience was again demonstrated in a most signal manner.
