[The Damnation of Theron Ware by Harold Frederic]@TWC D-Link bookThe Damnation of Theron Ware CHAPTER V 14/19
At least the Irish, with all their faults, must have a poetic strain, or they would not have clung so tenaciously to those curious and ancient forms.
He recalled having heard somewhere, or read, it might be, that they were a people much given to songs and music.
And the young lady, that very handsome and friendly Miss Madden, had told him that she was a musician! He had a new pleasure in turning this over in his mind.
Of all the closed doors which his choice of a career had left along his pathway, no other had for him such a magical fascination as that on which was graven the lute of Orpheus.
He knew not even the alphabet of music, and his conceptions of its possibilities ran but little beyond the best of the hymn-singing he had heard at Conferences, yet none the less the longing for it raised on occasion such mutiny in his soul that more than once he had specifically prayed against it as a temptation. Dangerous though some of its tendencies might be, there was no gainsaying the fact that a love for music was in the main an uplifting influence--an attribute of cultivation.
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