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“In all my life I never heard of it before,” said she sadly.

“But I have,” cried Tiny, trying to keep his courage up by speaking brave words. “Come on with me!” yet, in spite of his words, he held fast to the girl’s hand, and she led him down the street.

Presently, towards nightfall, they came up to a crowd of people, a mob of men and boys who were quarrelling.

Well did Tiny understand the angry sound; and, as for the girl walking with him, she trembled with fear, and said, “Shall we turn down this street? They are having a terrible fight. I am afraid you will be hurt.”

“Not I,” said Tiny. “Is the sun near setting?”

“It has set,” said the girl.

“And does the red light shine on the men’s faces?” asked the poet.

“Yes,” answered the girl, wondering.

“On the night when I first came into this city’s streets it was so. My harp was perfect then; but it was the voice, and not the other music, that the people eared for, when I sang. Wait now.”

The little girl obediently stood still, and all at once Tiny began to sing. None of his gay songs sung at feasts, and revels, or on holidays, but a song of peace, as grand and solemn as a psalm; and the quarrelling men and boys stood still and listened, and, before the song was ended, the ringleaders of the fight had crept away in shame. Other voices then began to shout in praise of the young stranger, who with a few simple words had stilled their angry passions. “The brave fellow is blind,” said they; “we will do something good for him!” And one, and another, and another, cried out, “Come with us, and we will do you good.”

But instead of answering a word, Tiny went his way as if he were deaf as a post, as well as blind as a bat, and by his side, holding his hand close, went the little beggar girl.

Until they came in the increasing darkness to a narrow, crooked lane, and met a woman who was running, crying, with a young child in her arms. “What is this?” asked Tiny.

“A woman, pale as death, with a child in her arms,” said the girl.

“Wait!” shouted Tiny, stopping just before the woman. His cry so astonished her that she stood, in an instant, as still as a statue. “What is it that you want?”

“Food! medicine! clothes! a home!” answered she, with a loud cry.

“Give me the child–take this–get what you need, and I will wait here with the little one,” said Tiny.

Without a word the woman gave her child–it was a poor little cripple– into his arms; and then she went on to obey him; and softly on the evening air, in that damp, dismal lane, arose the songs which Tiny sang to soothe and comfort the poor little creature. And in his arms it slept, hushed by the melody, a slumber such as had not for a long time visited his eyes.

Wonderful singer! blessed songs! sung for a wretched sickly stranger, who could not even thank him! But you think they died away upon the air, those songs? that they did no other good than merely hushing a hungry child to sleep?

A student in an attic heard the song, and smiled, and murmured to himself, “That is like having a long walk in in the woods, and hearing all the birds sing.”

A sick girl, who had writhed upon her bed in pain all the day, heard the gentle singing voice, and it was like a charm upon her–she lay resting in a sweet calm, and said, “Hark! it is an angel!” A blind old man started up from a troubled slumber, and smiled a happy smile that said as plain as any voice, “It gives me back my youth, my children, and my country home;” and he smiled again and again, and listened at his window, scarcely daring to breathe lest he should lose a single word. A baby clad in rags, and sheltered from the cold with them, a baby in its cradle–what do you think that cradle was? as truly as you live, nothing but a box such as a merchant packs his goods in! that baby, sleeping, heard it, and a light like sunshine spread over its pretty face. A thief skulking along in the shadow of the great high building, heard that voice and was struck to the heart, and crept back to his den, and did no wicked thing that night. A prisoner who was condemned to die heard it in his cell near by, and he forgot his chains, and dreamed that he was once more innocent and free–a boy playing with his mates, and loved and trusted by them.