“Father Supreme, our guide and stay,When sore opprest for others’ wrongs,In pity, Thou didst ope a wayTo save; to Thee the praise belongs.“Guide those, to whom we owe the aid,Under Thy sole direction sent,That our paths of peace may be madeThrough them the sign of great event.“That instead of war brings goodwill,Preferring kindred love to self,That others’ joy may prove their skillIn place of hoarding useless pelf.“Nor deem it ill, that they can learnFrom Manatitlans peaceful sway,Love’s power to bring like return,And bear from hate the palm away.”
“Father Supreme, our guide and stay,When sore opprest for others’ wrongs,In pity, Thou didst ope a wayTo save; to Thee the praise belongs.“Guide those, to whom we owe the aid,Under Thy sole direction sent,That our paths of peace may be madeThrough them the sign of great event.“That instead of war brings goodwill,Preferring kindred love to self,That others’ joy may prove their skillIn place of hoarding useless pelf.“Nor deem it ill, that they can learnFrom Manatitlans peaceful sway,Love’s power to bring like return,And bear from hate the palm away.”
“Father Supreme, our guide and stay,When sore opprest for others’ wrongs,In pity, Thou didst ope a wayTo save; to Thee the praise belongs.
“Father Supreme, our guide and stay,
When sore opprest for others’ wrongs,
In pity, Thou didst ope a way
To save; to Thee the praise belongs.
“Guide those, to whom we owe the aid,Under Thy sole direction sent,That our paths of peace may be madeThrough them the sign of great event.
“Guide those, to whom we owe the aid,
Under Thy sole direction sent,
That our paths of peace may be made
Through them the sign of great event.
“That instead of war brings goodwill,Preferring kindred love to self,That others’ joy may prove their skillIn place of hoarding useless pelf.
“That instead of war brings goodwill,
Preferring kindred love to self,
That others’ joy may prove their skill
In place of hoarding useless pelf.
“Nor deem it ill, that they can learnFrom Manatitlans peaceful sway,Love’s power to bring like return,And bear from hate the palm away.”
“Nor deem it ill, that they can learn
From Manatitlans peaceful sway,
Love’s power to bring like return,
And bear from hate the palm away.”
After exacting a promise that we would accompany their parents on their next monthly visit, we were permitted to depart, and, as the temple gates closed, held in review, with thoughtful silence, the scenes of the day, feeling within us that they were the index of future happiness for our race. Our thoughtful revery was broken by Lindenhoff, the corps’ genealogical curator of sound, who expostulated: “It is strange that the Heracleans still continue to drone the old pæan cadences practiced by the Greeks four thousand years ago, after hearing the Manatitlan operatists; for they are really a wonderful people, and superior musicians, notwithstanding their lack of power for the expression of the deeper emotions of rage, love, and revenge, which are in reality the vitalityand soul of our great master’s compositions. They show but little versatility in fugue movement, which expresses the gliding power of musical intelligence; this certainly discovers a material lack of appreciation, however accomplished they may be in other respects. In fact, the Manatitlans would be esteemed as superior vocalists the world over, if they could register a little more volume to their voices. I would much rather undergo one of Mr. Welson’s practical jokes than listen again to the droning of the Heracleans, for their execution was perfectly shocking, and they have far less capacity in the lower scale than the bumble-bee.”
The music taster’s criticism provoked a hearty laugh, but the padre, with warmth, exclaimed: “Upon my soul, for the life of me, I can’t see any cause for fault finding with sound, when the words harmonized so well with one’s feelings of grateful sympathy. A good heartfelt invocation from such voices, which were as beautiful as their faces, should not be questioned by our coarse natures! Why, man alive, if I had had the voice of a nightingale, it would have choked with kindly emotions from the harmony of their affectionate solicitations in our behalf! Faugh, man, your opera tral-la-la yells are as empty as the screechings of cockatoos and the croakings of frogs in comparison! The chord of sympathy they touched is beyond the reach of your Norma quirketizations.”
All joined in hearty commendation of the padre’s strictures on the hypercritical curator, Mr. Welson reminding him that the Maniculan choristers would have failed to impress his sensitive ears with their excellence without the magnifying aid of the tympanum. “In full chorus, to the unassisted ear, their music would have sounded monotonous, hardly reaching in volume the lisping chirrupings of an infantile cricket, heard from its home in a distant cranny. As with your registrations of impressions derived fromits voice, the Heracleans would find Manatitlan instruction wanting in volume for successful imitation. But,” he added, as Correliana overtook them, “here is the offending composer; we will now hear what she has to say in extenuation for neglect of opportunity for improvement in the cultivation of fugue flights above the reach of harmony.”
Correliana, observing the quizzical expression of mirth that accompanied this appeal, inquired the cause. In answer, Mr. Welson rehearsed the criticism of the curator, to which she blushingly replied: “You will, I hope, consider in our behalf, when I acknowledge the justness of your criticism, that before your arrival we were constantly harrassed with troubles which required the active employment of our people’s thoughts in the devisement of expedients for preservation. These kept us occupied with the full enlistment of our sympathies, so that we could only exercise our musical inclinations in the transmitted current of our original songs of thanksgiving. But in our greatest distress we longed for a harmonized extension of capacity, that you have supplied with adjuvantic aids, from which, in time, we hope that we may be able to render you satisfaction, with the evidences of industrious application.”
The curator of sound was too much abashed for an apologetic reply; and the Dosch requested Mr. Welson to say, that for their evening’s entertainment he would relate the circumstances that placed the “dulcetina” in the hands of Captain Greenwood for disposal.