OLD Frau Johannsen was perplexed as she stood in her little kitchen. Then suddenly she turned and stumbled up a flight of creaky stairs and knocked on the door of a young man who had some pretensions to being a musician and poet.
“I beg your pardon, Sir,” said the old lady kindly, “I wondered if you were ill. We’ve heard no music for two days and you haven’t been out, and I have been worried about you. If I could do anything —.”
“Thank you, my good lady,” said a feeble voice, “but you can do nothing. Yes, I am very ill.”
“Then, Sir, can I not help you get to bed,” and she looked around the bare room.
“No, no,” hastily replied the musician feebly; but Frau Johannsen had already discovered that no bed rained. Everything, except what bonged to herself, had been pawned for food. Her motherly heart was deeply touched.
“But, Sir, won’t you tell me your name? Have you no friends? And how do you live?”
“My name is George Neumark,” he replied slowly. “My parents are dead. I studied law, hoping to make a living, but without success; still, in the goodness of God, I haven’t starved. I trust Him still,” he said, smile playing over his worn face. “I know He will still help me.”
The old landlady listened in astonishment, then without a word she went back to her kitchen and soon returned with a tray of food for the hungry man.
“Oh, my grateful thanks,” he murmured; “you shall be repaid and your rent shall not fail, never fear.”
A few days later, as old Nathan the pawnbroker sat in his musty little shop, a poorly dressed man entered holding a cello with great care. “Good evening, Nathan,” said the musician gently. “What will you give me for my cello?”
The pawnbroker looked up and met the sad, questioning gaze of George Neumark. “Give you for that great fiddle!” he exclaimed, pretending to be indignant. “What could I do with that scrap of wood?”
“Nathan,” replied Neumark solemnly, “this is a costly instrument; my whole soul is in this cello; it is my one comfort, my last earthly friend. Give me ten dollars on it, Nathan.”
Taking the instrument and inspecting it, the old Jew muttered, “This is nothing but lumber.”
“Give me seven dollars,” implored the desperate man. “I’ll repay you.”
The old man only shook his head and grumbled.
“You are a hard man then,” exclaimed Neumark, seizing his instrument and rushing from the place.
“Hold, man,” shouted Nathan after him. “Business is business. I’ll give you five dollars.”
Slowly Neumark came back. “Then, friend,” he said, “Grant me one request. Let me play once more on my loved cello ‘ere I resign it to you for that paltry sum. God is good and faithful; He will never forsake,” he murmured to himself, and with tears rolling down his face he began to play. In another minute the old dusty shop was filled with melody so exquisitely soft and sweet that even the old Jew listened in rapt wonder.
Then with a change of key, Neumark sang to his own melody two verses of a hymn:
“Life is weary, Saviour take me.”
“Enough,” broke in old Nathan. “Take your five dollars and go.”
(to be continued)
HAPPY is the boy who believes in Him,
Happy is the boy who is cleansed from sin,
Never to a boy did the Lord say “No";
Let us every one to the Saviour go.
Happy is the girl who believes in Him,
Happy is the girl who is cleansed from sin,
Never to a girl did the Lord say “No";
Let us every one to the Saviour go.
ML-11/20/1966