Pine Tree had been made into a
wonderful musical instrument--a violin. The man took a bow and drew it
across the strings, and as he did so he smiled and nodded his head, for
the music was very sweet. The violin, which had once been Pine Tree, and
then part of a ship, and the ridge-pole of the cottage and the barn,
seemed to sing to the man the songs of the forest, the songs of the
ocean, the songs of the home, and the songs of the lowly barn.
One day the man put the violin in a case and took it away on a long
journey. When the case was opened, the violin saw that they were in a
strange hall full of people, and many of them were talking of this
man--the violin-maker.
The man lifted the violin from the case and went out upon a large
platform before the people, and began playing for them. He seemed to say
to the violin, "Sing for me," and as he drew the bow across the strings
the violin sang. It sang to the people, first the very songs that the
tall pines sang in the forest. The song changed, and the lap of the
waters, and the dip of the oar could be heard as on a moonlight summer
night; then the angry wind and the dash of the waves could be heard as
in a fierce storm.
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