Music and art, in the highest sense, through consonant vibrations in us, open the doors and windows of the soul, put us in touch and tune with the Infinite, and _then_, the real harmony begins. We live for the time in another world and return with a sigh and recover the bated breath, as though we had seen a vision beyond words. Music is an agent, a talisman, a means to an end. It strikes in us chords that lie at the foundation, the combinations that unlock the doors, and the "Imprisoned Splendor" wings in and out like the doves of Hesperides. Blunt the passions, the feelings and the emotions by over-indulgence, by vice and dissipation, and the royal guests desert the banquet hall, the doors of the soul creak on their hinges; and in place of the "music of the spheres" you have a devil's dance, and the orgies of despair! _Does it pay?_ It all depends on _use_. Here lie the resources, the real possessions of man. Here lies the "Parable of the Talents." Look at the profusion, the prodigality, the beneficence of Nature, Flowers and Fruit, Beauty and Bloom and Fragrance everywhere. Where there is no eye to see, no hand to pluck, Mother Nature delights in profusion, seemingly because she is made that way and cannot help it. And yet, in this little Rose-garden of ours--the Human Soul -we tramp down the flowers, plant loathsome weeds and poisons that kill and degrade and besot us, set up the tables of the money-changers, drive out the doves of Hesperides, and turn the temple into a shambles for wild beasts. "Nothing pays." "Let us curse God and--die!" Is there not something after all in the _Measure of Values_, and in the inexorable _Law of Use_? And who _constrains_ us but _ourselves_? Can God and Nature be so prodigal, noting even the sparrows fall, and yet disregard the children of men? What our resources are we can never imagine till we draw upon and begin to utilize them as others have done throughout the ages. The "average sinner," seemingly to justify or excuse his own failure, will not believe that any have ever achieved. _But there they stand_ all down the ages! Ecclesiastics help the deception and keep up the illusion by calling it _Miracle_ or "Special Providence," and so prevent man from entering his birthright, _to possess it_; and so we sell our birthright for a mess of pottage. It is like the dissipated, poverty-stricken spendthrift, who shuts his eyes and refuses to believe that any, by industry, economy, integrity and hard work have secured a competency. And so he cries, "Come on, boys! let's have another drink, and then rob this bond-holder, who has more than his share." The Measure of Values, and the Law of Use _hold everywhere_, in every department of human life; and the question, "Does it pay?" is practical and scientific to the last degree, and no one can answer but ourselves. As we answer will be the results, and nothing but ourselves can change them.