The Lutheran Pioneer St. Louis — 1893, Page 31

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The Lutheran Pioneer. 31
DN — EEE — ET

The Pledged Violin.

streets in Hamburg by the author and com-
poser, they were beautiful past all expression.
Suddenly the key changed a few bars to the
minor, and then their melody poured itself out
anew, as Neumark’s face lighted up with a
smile and he sang:

each turn by turn, swelled out the words of his
own sweet hymn:

“If thou but suffer God to guide thee,

And hope in Him through all thy ways,
He'll give thee strength what’er betide thee,
And bear thee through the evil days;

Who trusts in God’s unchanging love
Builds on the Rock that naught can move.”

When asked if he made the hymn himself,
George Neumark modestly replied:

‘Well, yes; Lam the instrument, God swept
the keys. These words, ‘Who trusts in God’s
unchanging love,’ lay like a soft burden on my
heart. I went over them again, and so they
shaped themselves into the song—how, I can
not tell. I began to sing and pray for joy,
and my soul blessed the Lord; then word fol-
lowed word like from a fountain.’’

May we be able each one to repeat Neu-
mark’s beautiful thought in our lives. ‘‘Iam
the instrument, but God sweeps the keys.’’

‘¢T will lend thee seven florins upon the in-
strument. It is not worth so much; nowhere
else wouldst thou meet with such an offer.’

The speaker—a pawnbroker by trade, a Ger-
man by nationality, a Jew by birth—peered
a little curiously at the customer before him
ashe spoke. In his hand he held a beautiful
little violin worth far more than the trifling
sum lent upon it. But the young man opposite
him looked so hungry, so shabby, so hopeless,
that he aroused only a feeling of extra cupidity
in the dealer’s heart.

- “Seven florins. It is far above the value
of such an instrument as this, it is good only
.for firewood. But there! seven florins, and
if not redeemed in a fortnight, to become my
property.’”’

George Neumark had tears in his eyes as
he gazed at his beloved violin. For ten years
that little stringed instrument had been his
companion and comforter. Brought with him
from his birth-place, Langensalza, he had clung
to it through every privation; clothing, even
food had been gone without, but his violin had
never been parted with. Now it had to go at
last, and for so small a sum! No wonder the
young man’s lips quivered; well he knew that
once out of his hands— once pledged for seven
florins to the German Jew —he would never be
able’to redeem it. Never to play on it again,
never to speak to his heart through the sensi-
tive musical strings? The thought was almost
more than he could bear. i

‘*Mr. Schmidt,’’ he said at last, ‘‘I must
take your offer, but allow me to play a last
tune on my dear violin. At the worst — and,
alas! it is the very worst with me now —it has
spoken to me and sung back all my courage
and hope.”’

With much reluctance the Jew reached the
violin over the counter. It was a valuable
prize, and if once again in the young student's
hand, he might refuse to part with it.

‘¢Thou hast the florins; here they are,’’ he
said, pushing the coins toward the white, trem-
bling fingers that were aching to take up the
violin. ‘‘No backing from thy bargain. Thine
the florins, mine the fiddle.”

‘Of all the sad hearts that have left your
door, there has none been so sad as mine,’’
replied the young man, his voice thick with
emotion. ‘Only one more message through
my friend.”’ : :
_ Seizing the violin, the musician placed _ it

lovingly beneath his chin and stretched out
the bow firmly. Next moment a tune so ex-
quisite, soft and musical throbbed out into the
dusty room and even old Joe listened in spite
of himself. A few chords, a few strains, and
then a rich voice took up the melody:
«‘Vife, so weary!
Saviour, take me.””

The words were well known then; they are
better known now. Sung as they were in that
most obscure shop in one of the most obscure

‘*Yet who knows?
The cross is precious.’’

With that smile his renunciation was com-
plete. Laying down the instrument, he said
in Latin, ‘‘God’s will be done!’’ and rushed
out from the place.

‘Can you tell me where I can get that song?
I would willingly give a florin for it.”’

The speaker, a well-to-do, portly individual,
laid his hand on George Neumark’s sleeve as
the young man ran out into the gathering dark-
ness, leaving his beloved violin in the Jew’s
keeping.

George was yet quivering from the violence
of his emotion, and it was rather a choking
voice that replied:

‘My good friend, I will cheerfully fulfill
your wish without the florin ;”” for had he not
seven pieces in his doublet-pocket,.and would
he sell the child of his brain! Taking the
stranger into his poor lodging, he gave a copy
of the hymn and little by little related the
story-of his grief at pledging his instrument.

Very skillfully his visitor put question after
question until he understood something of the
musician’s history. Tears stood in honest
John Gutig’s eyes as he listened to the tale
of poverty and privation so nobly borne.

John Gutig was a valet in the service of
Baron Von Rosenkranz, the Swedish Ambas-
sador, to the city of Hamburg. Next day the
Baron was in possession of George Neumark’s
history. He was told of the hapless musi-
cian’s poverty, his musical skill, his beautiful
hymns, his beloved violin, and when at length
he heard him himself he was as much en-
chanted as John Gutig had been.

“‘T am not in need of a court musician,’’
he said smiling at the paled, young eager stu-
dent, ‘‘but I do want a private secretary. Will
you accept the post?

No one need to say what was George Neu-
mark’s answer. ‘The situation offered meant
comparative wealth and freedom from care.
It meant more—even the possession of his
beloved instrument. His first step was toward
the den of Mr. Schmidt. The Jew was quite
taken aback at the redemption of so valuable
a pledge;. with a sigh he gave it up, for with
it went his hopes of a great bargain.

Towards his old lodgings George Neumark |”
next took his way. His landlady had always
taken a deep interest in his tribulations ; she
must be a sharer also in his joy. In a few
minutes the room was crowded with friends
and neighbors anxious to hear him play again
upon his instrument. Bow in hand, he stood
considering for an instant how he could best
preach a sermon of trust in a living, loving
God. Then soft and low, glad and triumphant,

—

Heathen Superstition.

‘‘After the open-preaching,’’ says a mis-
sionary in China, ‘‘I was going home, when
I met a young woman walking slowly along
the street holding up a large green umbrella,
though it was quite fine, and carrying a lighted
lantern, though it was quite light, and with a
child’s garment on her arm. She was plain-
tively calling someone by name. The poor
thing was looking for the departed soul of her
sick child! Everyone, you know, is supposed
to have three souls, and the child was so sick
it was evident one of its souls had already de-
parted and was hovering about in the neigh-
borhood. She was calling it to come back;
the lantern was to enable it to find its way;
the child’s garment on her arm it would: at
once recognize and reinhabit; and the um-
brella overhead would protect it from the sun
and make it otherwise snug and comfortable.
On her return to the house she would lay the
garment on her child, and the recaptured soul,
thus conducted back, would enter in and dis-
pel the sickness!’

—_—s +o or oo

“1 Just Begged.”

A missionary in Jamaica called on a sick
boy who had been near death.

with me, sir,”’ said the boy.

‘‘But, Thomas, I hope you prayed your-
self ?”’
‘€Oh yes, sir.”

missionary. :
‘Why, sir, I just begged and begged!”’

——q@ oo a
‘

A REMARK of an old minister is commended
to all preachers who are tempted to complain
of a small congregation: —‘‘It is as large a
congregation, perhaps, as you will want to aC-
count for at the day of judgment.”” 5

“<I often wished you had come and prayed .

‘And how did you pray?’’ inquired the

\