"Dearly beloved Vox! you have two first-class deficiencies. First, a purposeless life. You happen to be doing good with that wonderful voice of yours; but that is nothing to your credit. You can't help cheering people when you wag your jaws any more than Caleb can help being a comfort to me when he wags his tail. You didn't study music for the sake of helping anybody, but only because music gave you a pleasurable means of getting a livelihood. So you have no soul-satisfaction in your profession, for all you are succeeding so grandly in it. You are like that piece of music which you said was a failure, because, though there were some fine harmonies in it, it had no theme, no prevailing idea, no musical purpose." "That's me," said Vox, _sotto voce_, holding his head in his hands. "I know that I am a mere medley, part sacred, part profane, and both parts played by the devil! Go on." "Stop your pessimism," rejoined the doctor. "That poetic head of yours reminds me that Schiller in the 'Bell' gives utterance to the same idea I am trying to beat into you." "The Bell? That's me, too; all brass and clapper!" grumbled Vox, twisting Caleb's ears until the brute whined. The doctor, not heeding either the singer's soliloquy or the brute's, quoted in oratorical style: "'So let us duly ponder all The works our feeble strength achieves; For mean, in truth, the man we call Who ne'er what he completes conceives. And well it stamps our human race, And hence the gift to understand, That man within the heart should trace Whate'er he fashions with the hand.'" Vox groaned. "That's rather heavy poetry for creatures of our caliber, isn't it, Caleb? But I guess that I catch on.--It means the same as the line of the hymn you gave out to-night, doctor;" and Vox sang: "'Take my voice, and let me sing Always, only, for my King.' "That is, if I'm a bell, I should be one on purpose, whether a church-bell, or a door-bell, or only 'God's dog,' to growl"--patting Caleb. "But what is that second thing I lack? Since you've taken the contract to make me over, I want you to be thorough with the job." "The second thing you need," said the doctor, "is in some way to be made to see that you are doing good. From your perch in the gallery you don't get a glimpse into the people's hearts. I couldn't preach if I didn't go among the people during the week, and get the encouragement of knowing that I had helped somebody." "Yes," said Vox, "I've heard Joe Jefferson say that he couldn't act worth a cent if the people didn't applaud. I beg your pardon, doctor, for comparing the pulpit with the stage. But go on with your lecture." "Oh, you've knocked the lecture out of my head with your nonsense, Phil." "But you knocked it pretty well into mine. I'd like to see somebody I've helped. Show him up." "Humph!" grunted the doctor, and, after a moment's silence, said abruptly, "Phil, will you go with me to-morrow night?" "Where?"