As I heard the deep bass of the old drummer,
rolling in a low, solemn undertone, a sudden shift-
ing of the scene camie to ne. I was in a great
auditorium filled with light, and packed with
humanity rising tier on tier and stretching far
back till lost in the maze oF distances. A grand
orchestra, banked before mi, with swaying arms
and earnest faces, played a wonderful harmony,
which rolled about. me like the sea ,and whelmied
me with its volume till [ was almost swept
aw, ,ax by the tide, then suddenly down under
its sweep I found the low, deep roll of the bass
drumn. No one appeared to mark it or paid any
heed to him. Nor did tbe big drummer pay
any heed to the audience. All he minded was
the harmony and his drum. But I knew that,
unmarked and unheeded, il set athrob the puls-
ing air and stirred the billows through which
all that divine music rm ached and held the
  As we walked homne that night after pressing
our way into the throng of poor people to wring
John Marvel's hand, I said to my wife, after a
struggle with myself to say it:
  "I think I was wrong about John, and you
were right. He did right. He is well named the