What's in a whistle?

Beginning in 1906, Béla Bartók traveled, mostly on foot, to Eastern European villages. He collected thousands of folk songs on the phonograph, or record player. His recordings can still be heard in a museum in Budapest, Hungary. Although Hanni is a made-up character in this story, we can imagine her among those whom Bartók recorded. 1 Years ago in Hungary, there lived a girl named Hanni who loved to whistle. She whistled tunes she heard at village dances. She whistled like the blackbird in the plum tree. She whistled through her lips and through her teeth. 2 “Whistling is good,” her father said, “but it is better to make things, beautiful things that will last.” He was a wood carver who built furniture that his wife painted. They hoped that their only child would learn their trade. 3 Try as she might, Hanni could neither carve nor paint. Her whistling, though, became better and better. 4 Still, Hanni wished she could make something beautiful that would last. She studied with the spinner, the weaver, and the lace maker, but the lessons always ended in snarled threads. 5 On her way to market one day, Hanni noticed an unfamiliar man on the road. As she walked along, Hanni whistled one tune after another and wondered who he might be. 6 When she arrived at Old Lidi’s house, Hanni stopped whistling. She joined old Lidi, who was sitting in the doorway knitting a tablecloth. Together they watched the stranger closely, like detectives. 7 “Who is he?” wondered Old Lidi aloud. “Not a peddler—his bag is too small. Not a soldier or government worker—wrong clothes. And what is that machine hanging around his neck?” 8 At the marketplace, Hanni’s curiosity was satisfied. She had just bought some sausage when the schoolmaster tapped her shoulder. 9 “Hanni, this is Mr. Béla Bartók; he collects folk songs and has traveled from the city to hear our music. When he asked me who knew many songs, of course I thought immediately of you.” 10 The gentleman smiled. “I’ve already heard this village songbird,” he said. Then he set his machine on a windowsill, pointed the horn toward Hanni, and turned the handle. A crowd gathered round. 11 “Do you know this tune?” Bartók asked. He began to whistle, and Hanni joined in. Bartók took a pen and notebook out of his pocket. “Do you know the words?” he asked. 12 “Yes,” said Hanni. 13 “Then sing them.” 14 “Sing?” Hanni said. “Here?” 15 Janos the baker shouted, “Hanni doesn’t sing—she just whistles!” 16 Hanni’s cheeks reddened. 17 Bartók turned to Hanni and said kindly, “Please sing that tune—sing directly into this horn.” 18 Hanni’s voice trembled, but she got through the first line. Then the song gave her courage and nearly sang itself. 19 When she had finished, Bartók wound his machine, and then Hanni’s voice could be heard singing out. The crowd gasped and Hanni grinned. 20 “That’s lovely!” Janos called out. “Shall I sing now?” 21 “How about me?” others asked. They all wanted to hear their own voices on the machine. 22 “Later,” Bartók said. “Hanni has a gift; she knows many songs, some that are almost forgotten. I’ll record them all. When I take these recordings to a museum in Budapest, people from all over will hear Hanni’s voice singing something beautiful that will last forever.” 23 The smile on Hanni’s face was so wide that, for a few minutes, she couldn’t even whistle!