A HARPER stood before the door of a house and played a number of tunes without seeming to attract the attention of any one within until he played a sad and plaintive air, when an upper window opened and a hand reached out and dropped a coin into the hat that he held beneath.

From this house he went to another, and played the same air; but no notice was taken of him until he changed from it to a more cheerful tune, when a piece of money was again thrown to him.

After this he was careful to note down in a little book that he carried what sort of music pleased the inmates of the different houses in his round; and whenever he selected a new tune, it was always with some special hearers in view, to whom he went and played it as soon as it was learned. In this way he was kept busy from day to day, and by means of his harp earned a good living.

Now, although he played a variety of tunes to please many different hearers, he had strong preferences of his own. There were a few of his pieces that he loved better than all the rest, and at the houses where these were played his music was at its best, because he played it out of his heart.

So, one day, as he was trudging along with his harp on his back, he said to himself:

“A portion of my work is a joy and delight to me, but the rest is labor and toil. Why should I not play that music only that I love, and to those alone who can appreciate it? In it lies not only my chief pleasure, but my real power as well. I am resolved henceforth to adopt this plan.”

So he gave up all but the few tunes in which he himself delighted, and played only at the houses where these had been enjoyed. But in a little while he noticed that he was not welcomed at these houses as he used to be, and the cause (though he was loath to acknowledge it) was not hidden from him. His favorite airs, by their sameness and constant repetition, had ceased to stir his own heart as they once did; hence his music had lost its fervor, and with[303]
[304] this its power over the hearts of others. Then he said to himself:

“The plan which necessity imposed on me was better than my own. Its discords tended to heighten its harmonies. Experience having taught me this, I will now return to that plan.”

So he took up all his old pieces, practising them over again, and playing them, as he used to do, from door to door. And in thus doing (mingling the bitter with the sweet) he soon prospered again.

In a higher state of being we shall be able to sustain the purest joys uninterruptedly. But here, that we may only taste of them, our joy must alternate with sorrow—our pleasure, with pain.