Let no such man be trusted.”
This passage always reminds me of the colored man who went to church to hear the new minister’s trial sermon. The preacher was fond of quotations, and among others he gave an old favorite in new guise:
“He who steals my purse is po’ white trash!”
One of the elders of the church immediately jumped up and interrupted:
“Say, brother, where you done git that idee at?”
“Dat, sar, am one ob the immortal, thoughtful gems of William Shakespeare.”
“Well, sar,” came in rich tones from the gentleman who had come to criticise the sermon, “my only remark am: Amen, Shakespeare!”
Shakespeare certainly did not have the citizens of the silent world in mind when he wrote that, but we deaf are often moved to say Amen. Stratagems are somewhat out of our line, since they require good ears to carry them through, but otherwise this is a perfect description of what the lack of music may mean to us. It is our greatest loss. We may rise in imagination above many deprivations, but we can never forget the sinister fate which keeps from our ears forever the beauty of the singing voice and the vibrating string.
“Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast.
To soften rocks or bend the knotted oak.”