'This is just the case where music may be a soothing influence; something must be tried for the poor creature.' The proposition almost took away my breath.

Sing now! before Mr.
Hamilton! And yet how in sheer humanity could I refuse?
I had often sung before to my patients, and had never minded it in the least; but before Mr.Hamilton! 'You need not think of me,' he continued provokingly,--for of course I was thinking of him: 'I am no critic in the musical line.

Just try how it answers, will you ?' And he walked away and turned his back to us, and seemed absorbed in the sampler.
For one minute I hesitated, and then I cleared my throat.

'I am going to sing something, Phoebe.

Mr.Hamilton thinks it will do you good.' And then, fearful lest her waywardness should stop me, I commenced at once with the first line of the beautiful hymn, 'Art thou weary?
art thou languid ?' My voice trembled sadly at first, and my burning face and cold hands testified to my nervousness; but after the first verse I forgot Mr.
Hamilton's presence and only remembered it was Charlie's favourite hymn I was singing, and sang it with a full heart.
When I had finished, I bent over Phoebe and asked if I should sing any more, and, to my great delight, she nodded assent.