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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9fcde10 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55353 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55353) diff --git a/old/55353-8.txt b/old/55353-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 974fa60..0000000 --- a/old/55353-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4677 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Boys Who Became Famous Men, by Harriet Pearl Skinner - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Boys Who Became Famous Men - Stories of the Childhood of Poets, Artists, and Musicians - -Author: Harriet Pearl Skinner - -Illustrator: Sears Gallagher - -Release Date: August 13, 2017 [EBook #55353] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOYS WHO BECAME FAMOUS MEN *** - - - - -Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -Boys who Became Famous Men - - -[Illustration: "The citizen wheeled abruptly, grasped his arm."] - - -Boys who Became Famous Men - -_Stories of the Childhood of Poets, -Artists, and Musicians_ - -By -Harriet Pearl Skinner - -Illustrated by Sears Gallagher - -Boston -Little, Brown, and Company -1905 - - -_Copyright, 1905_, -BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. - -_All rights reserved_ - -Published September, 1905 - -THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. - - -TO - -FRANK, HOWARD, AND ROBERT ANDREWS - - - - -CONTENTS - - PAGE -BENI'S KEEPER: GIOTTO 1 - -THE VICTOR: BACH 9 - -"THE LITTLE BOY AT ABERDEEN": BYRON 44 - -"TOM PEAR-TREE'S PORTRAIT": GAINSBOROUGH 71 - -GEORG'S CHAMPION: HÄNDEL 92 - -SIX HUNDRED PLUS ONE: COLERIDGE 133 - -THE LION THAT HELPED: CANOVA 176 - -FRÉDÉRIC OF WARSAW: CHOPIN 207 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - -"The citizen wheeled abruptly, grasped his arm" _Frontispiece_ - - PAGE -"He was roused by a hand upon his shoulder" 4 - -"Sebastian started up, bewildered" 37 - -"Lay in the grass reading aloud from his favorite story" 56 - -"A head suddenly appeared above the wall" 84 - -"The clavichord provided unceasing entertainment" 116 - -"In its place appeared a noble lion" 193 - -"Like the tired robbers, were fast asleep" 216 - - - - -_BOYS WHO BECAME FAMOUS MEN_ - - - - -BENI'S KEEPER - -[GIOTTO[1]] - - -One summer morning, long ago, a small boy guarded his father's sheep on -a hillside in the Apennines. Up and down the stony pasture he trod, -driving back the lambs who strayed too far, and trying all the while to -keep his wayward charges in a group where he could count them from time -to time. His chief care was to prevent them from straggling into the -lonely passes above, where wild animals might set upon and devour them; -and to watch that they did not wander down the wooded slope and imprison -themselves in the tangled thickets below. - -The boy might easily have been mistaken for a dryad, as he sprang from -rock to rock, whistling shrilly here, coaxing, calling there, and -waving his crook to direct the truants back to the flock. It would have -seemed no great wonder if he had really stepped out from a mountain -boulder to command these gentle troops, for like all woodland sprites, -he was brown. His eyes were brown, his hair was brown, and the tunic -reaching barely to his knee was made of cool brown linen. His sleeves -were rolled to the shoulder, and his arms and legs, bared ever to the -sun, were as brown as bronze itself. A crimson cover-kerchief wound -carelessly about his head was the only bit of vivid color on the -mountain side. - -The sun shone hot, and when Giotto was satisfied that his sheep were all -about him, cropping the mosses, he threw himself down in the shade of an -ilex-tree, and wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his tunic. - -Below, he could see his home nestling in a forest of sturdy pines, and -far down the valley shone the roofs and spires of the village. -Southward appeared a glimpse of the public road that threaded its way -through the hills to the mighty city of Florence. Giotto had never -visited the place, but his father, who every spring carried wool thither -to market, had often told him of the splendid bridges, towers, and -palaces to be seen there. Great men lived there too, Giotto's father had -said, and one of them, a certain Cimabue,[2] painted such pictures as -the world had never seen before. Of this painter and his colors the boy -was never tired of hearing; and as he lay on the grass under the -ilex-tree, he was longing unspeakably for the time to come when he -himself might go to Florence and behold the pictures wrought by -Cimabue's hand. - -Musing, his eye fell upon a smooth flat stone near by, and with the -sight came a desire that caused him to leap from his lounging position, -his face alight with purpose. - -"Hold still for a little while, Beni!" he said, addressing one of the -sheep that nibbled beside the stone; "just be quiet, and I'll play I'm -Cimabue, and draw your picture." - -Giotto reached for a sharp bit of slate that had chipped from the rock -above, and carefully studying the woolly face before him, began to draw -upon the flat white stone. Patiently, thoughtfully he worked, glancing -now up at his placid companion, now down at his flinty canvas, and -coaxing Beni back into position with tempting handfuls of grass whenever -the animal turned to trot away. - -The sun rose high, and the boy, bending low over his task, forgot that -he was warm, forgot that he was tired, even forgot that he was hungry, -until he was roused by a hand upon his shoulder. - -[Illustration: "He was roused by a hand upon his shoulder."] - -He sprang up, startled beyond speech by the touch, for he had believed -himself alone with the silence and the sheep. - -Before him stood a man in the robes of a scholar. His manner was -stately, his face pale and serious. He was gazing intently downward, -not upon the little Tuscan shepherd, but at Beni's picture upon the -stone. - -"Boy, where did you learn to draw?" he exclaimed in a voice of strong -excitement. - -"Learn to draw?" queried Giotto wonderingly. "Nowhere, sir. I haven't -learned." - -"Do you mean me to believe that you have had no teacher, no one to tell -you how to use your pencil?" The speaker searched the boy's face -earnestly, almost fiercely, in his desire to know whether the child -spoke the truth. - -Giotto, innocent of all but the facts of his simple experience, replied -sadly, "My father is too poor to pay for lessons." - -"Then God Himself has taught you!" declared the stranger, hoarse with -agitation. "What is your name?" - -"Giotto, sir." - -"I am Cimabue, Giotto." - -"Not--not Cimabue, the painter of Florence!" ejaculated the lad, -falling back a step, unable to believe that he who stood before him was -in reality the hero of his boyish dreams. - -"Yes," affirmed the man gravely, "and if you will go with me to -Florence, child, I will make of you so great a painter that even the -name of Cimabue will dwindle before the name of Giotto." - -Down upon one bare knee fell the boy, and grasping the master's hand in -both of his, he cried,-- - -"Oh, teach me to paint pictures, great and beautiful pictures, and I -will go with you _anywhere_--" He broke off suddenly and rose,--"if -father will give me leave," he concluded quietly. - -"Oho!" and the artist smiled curiously. "If your father forbade, you -would not go with me, even though you might become a great painter?" - -"No," said Giotto slowly, casting down his eyes, "even though I might -become a great painter." - -"Most good, most good," burst out the master exultantly; "a true heart -should ever direct a painter's hand, and yours is true indeed, Giotto. -Come, let us go to him." - -Down the steep they hastened, the boy running on before to point the -way, the master following with the look of one who has found a diamond -in the dust at his feet; and when they came before Giotto's father with -their strange request, and the Tuscan peasant learned what fortune had -befallen his child, with the promised teaching and protection of Cimabue -the renowned, he bared his head, waved his hand toward Florence, and -said to the painter solemnly,-- - -"Take him, master, and teach him the cunning of your brush, the magic of -your colors; tell him the secret of your art and the mystery of your -fame, but let him not forget his home, nor his mountains, nor his God." - - -And what became of the little Tuscan shepherd? - -He dwelt with Cimabue in the wonderful city of Florence, studying -early, studying late; and by the time he had grown to manhood, he was -known to be the greatest painter in all the world. Even his master -turned to him for instruction, and picture-lovers journeyed from distant -countries to see him and behold his works. He was encouraged by the -church, honored by the court, loved by the poor; and in all Christendom -no name was more truly revered than that of the painter, Giotto. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] Giotto (pronounced _Jótto_). - -[2] Cimabue (pronounced _Chím-a-boó-y_). - - - - -THE VICTOR - -[BACH[3]] - - -Down the principal street of old Ohrdruf came a procession of boys -singing a New Year's anthem. The cantor marched before them, wielding -his baton high above his head, so that those following could watch its -motions and keep in perfect accord. Behind him marched the singers, two -by two. They carried neither book nor music sheet, but every eye was -fixed steadily upon the silver-tipped baton, and forty voices rose in -harmony so splendid and exact that passers-by stopped, listened, and -turned to follow the procession down the street. - -The singers wore students' caps and gowns of black, and upon the breast -of each shone an embroidered Maltese cross of gold, while below it -appeared the crimson letters, S. M. C., which denoted that these were -the choir-boys of St. Michael's Church. - -Marching into an open square, they formed a compact group about the -cantor, and started a fresh and stirring hymn; and presently stepped -forth the smallest boy of them all, who paused a pace or two in advance -of the others, and took up the strain alone. Clear and sweet rang out -his voice upon the frosty air, and listeners by the way turned to one -another with nods and smiles of pleasure. - -"That's little Bach," announced one. - -"They say he is one of the best sopranos at St. Michael's," murmured -another. - -The lad seemed quite unconscious of the impression he was making, for -his manner was as unaffected as though he were singing only to the -barren trees. His dark face was not noticeably handsome, but was very -earnest; and a certain plaintive note in his voice appealed to the -company with singular power, for while the carol falling from his lips -was blithe indeed, the eyes of his hearers were wet. Fervently he hymned -the New Year's joy, now trilling, trilling, like a rapturous bird at -springtime; now softly crooning with the sound of a distant violin. - -When his solo ended, a round of applause and many bravos burst from his -audience, but the boy stepped quickly back to his former place and -finished the choral with the others. - -In the crowd of bystanders, a man wearing a coat and cap of rough gray -fur smiled broadly when the people applauded little Bach. - -"Who is the boy?" inquired a stranger at his elbow. - -"He is Sebastian Bach and my brother," announced the fur-coated man. "I -am the organist at St. Michael's, and he is one of the leading -sopranos." - -"You should be proud of the child, for he sings remarkably well." - -"I am proud of him--ah, here come the collectors." - -The singing was done, and in and out among the bystanders went the boys, -passing their wooden plates for pennies in exchange for their serenade. - -Nearly every one contributed something, for the people of Ohrdruf were -genuine music-lovers, and they knew that the money gathered in this -fashion would be divided equally among the boys, to use as they pleased. - -The choir broke ranks, having paraded and collected in all the streets -of the town, and black-robed boys scurried away in every direction. - -"Are you bound for home now, Sebastian?" asked Georg Erdmann, the -soloist's marching companion. - -"No," replied the other, "I am going to the church to practise." - -"Oh, little Bach is going to practise on the organ," exclaimed a woman -who had overheard the boy's speech. "Come, sister, let's go in and -listen while he plays." - -Whereupon the two matrons followed him across the square, and the -fur-coated organist, who had lately seemed so gratified at Sebastian's -success, scowled fiercely. - -"I wish that boy would stick to his singing, and let the organ alone," -he muttered. "People tell me every day that if I don't look sharp my -little brother will beat me at my own profession. He would make me a -nice return for my kindness, if, after I have taken him into my house, -fed him, clothed him, and taught him everything that he knows about -music, he should try to outstrip me in my own work and shame me before -my friends. I won't have it! I won't bear it! I'll admit that the boy is -industrious and generally obedient, but I sha'n't let him impose on me, -if he _is_ of my own flesh and blood. Why should these people go to hear -_him_ practise? Why don't they drop in while _I_ am playing? I am the -organist, although people seem to forget the fact. I think I'll step -over to the church and see what these people are going mad about." - -Into the shadowy edifice he stole, taking up his position behind the two -women whose coming had so clearly annoyed him. The peal of the organ was -filling the place from floor to dome, but though the women listened with -eager attention, the face of Christoff Bach gradually softened. - -"He is playing his studies, just as I have taught him. Any boy who is -willing to work could do as well. There is nothing remarkable in that -performance. I needn't be worried for my position yet awhile." - -High in the organ-loft Sebastian practised faithfully, unaware of the -presence of kindred or stranger. Page after page he rehearsed, sometimes -repeating a difficult passage many times before leaving it. - -At length he removed the thick scroll from the rack, and replaced it -with a second book of musical manuscript. Then the church re-echoed -with sounds of a brilliant fugue. - -At the first note Christoff Bach started violently and his mouth fell -open with astonishment. He strained forward to be sure that he heard -aright, and as the inspiriting theme rolled through the vaulted spaces -his eyes grew sinister and his hands were clenched so tightly that his -nails dug savagely into his palms. - -"My book," he gasped; "the music that I copied at Arnstadt for my own -use! When did he decide to steal it, and undertake to learn my best -selections? He can't keep to his own pieces, but must filch out mine -during my absence, and fumble them on the organ so that my friends can -laugh at me for being outdone by a ten-year-old. The braggart! I'd -thrash him soundly if I hadn't promised father that I'd keep my hands -off him; but I'll settle this business before I sleep. The upstart!" - -Raging inwardly, Christoff Bach stalked from the church; and half an -hour later Sebastian quietly took his music bag under his arm and -started homeward, conscious that he was very hungry, and that an -appetizing New Year's dinner would be ready when he arrived. - -Sebastian Bach had lost both parents by death, and for nearly a year he -had lived with his brother at Ohrdruf. Seldom does an orphan fall into -such kindly hands, for Christoff had generously supplied the boy's -needs, and the organist's young wife had cared for Sebastian with all -the gentleness of a sister. They sent him to the Lyceum school, and -Christoff taught him music at home. At first the elder brother rejoiced -over the boy's progress in organ playing, and often rubbed his hands -with pride as he predicted for his pupil a future filled with musical -successes. But as the months rolled by, and the lad acquired greater -knowledge, Christoff became silent. - -Had Sebastian been content to dawdle at his practising, or even to work -with moderate zest, his experience might have proved no different from -that of most music students; but he did nothing by halves, and whether -he worked or whether he played, whether he studied grammar or whether he -led the games at school, he attacked the enterprise with such force that -he usually came off victorious. Bringing this same determination to bear -upon his music, he soon left his fellow-students far behind; and -practising hour after hour and day after day, with his mind set upon -conquering all obstacles as soon as they appeared, he climbed and -presently leaped into musicianly skill. Some of his music mates -complained that Sebastian learned more in one week than they did in -three or four, and their conclusion was wholly correct; but while they -grumbled they forgot that he daily spent twice as many hours at the -organ as did any one of them, toiling steadily, unfalteringly, until he -had acquired a skill far exceeding theirs. - -He was such a good comrade, however, that they readily forgave him his -musical progress, and in every game and contest on the playground he was -eagerly sought as an ally. - -Strangely enough, as Sebastian's facility increased, his teacher's brow -clouded. The boy could not understand why his brother was more plainly -vexed over a perfect lesson than with a faulty one. In the beginning -Christoff had cheered Sebastian on, but of late he had grown crabbed and -irritable, and the lessons had come to be hours of harsh and sneering -criticism. Sebastian did not dream that his brother was jealous, but -this was really the case; and Christoff heard the boy's lessons with -deepening anxiety and distaste. Never, however, until to-day had the -organist admitted, even to himself, that he was afraid of his younger -brother, that he dreaded lest he himself should be outstripped by his -pupil. - -When Sebastian opened the door of the great kitchen, which served the -family for dining-room and living-room as well, a savory odor floated -out to greet him. - -"Hurrah for the goose, Schwester! I hope it is nearly done!" he cried, -throwing down his music and hanging his cap and cloak on a peg beside -the door. - -Mrs. Bach was kneeling before the open fireplace, busily engaged in -turning the fowl that browned so temptingly above the blaze; but upon -Sebastian's entrance, she rose and approached him with a troubled look. - -"Christoff is very angry with you," she whispered, indicating the -chamber above with a motion of her hand. - -"Angry with me? What for? What's wrong?" exclaimed Sebastian astonished. -Before she could reply, a door above was heard to open, and down the -wooden stairway at the end of the kitchen rushed Christoff Bach, his -face purple, his eyes gleaming. - -Seizing Sebastian roughly by the arm, he loudly demanded,-- - -"What do you mean by stealing my pieces, and trying to learn them behind -my back, so that the town can laugh at me when you perform?" - -"Steal! Laugh!" echoed Sebastian blankly, unable to comprehend his -brother's meaning. - -"Don't pretend to be innocent! You can't hoodwink me any longer, my -young cub. I'll see that nothing like this occurs again." - -"What have I done, Christoff? I don't know what you mean." - -"You stole my book that I copied at Arnstadt, taking pains to lay hold -of it while I was safe at Gotha." - -"I didn't _steal_ it," returned Sebastian horrified. - -"You didn't? What do you call your going into my room, taking music -without my permission, and practising it while I am out of town?" - -"I didn't suppose you would care a bit. I thought if I learned one or -two of Pachelbel's fugues, it would be a nice surprise for you when you -came back from Gotha." - -"A nice surprise! Ha, ha! Ho, ho! I suppose that next time I go from -home for a week you will surprise me by pilfering the contents of my -money-drawer." - -"I _didn't_ steal, I _didn't steal_ the book," protested Sebastian, -paling under the sting of his brother's taunt. - -"No, no, Christoff, I'm sure the boy meant no harm," interposed Mrs. -Bach, touching her husband's arm with a coaxing gesture; "I knew that he -borrowed your music book, but I thought also that you would be pleased -with his desire to study it." - -"Then you, too, are engaged in a plot to ruin me!" shrieked the -organist, carried quite beyond himself by the fury of his jealousy; -"I'll see whether I am not to be master in my own house. If I can't -leave my belongings in my room without fear that my brother will use -them expressly to injure me, and that my wife will help him along with -the scheme, I'll begin to put them out of reach!" - -Snatching up Sebastian's music bag, Christoff, too impatient to loose -its fastenings of hook and tape, ripped it apart, seized his roll of -manuscript, thrust it into the shelf of a side cupboard, slammed the -steel wicker door, locked it grimly, and pocketed the key. - -"Let's have dinner," he growled, drawing out his chair noisily, and -dropping into his place at table without a glance toward either member -of his household. - -Mrs. Bach brought on the steaming goose, but everybody was dismally -uncomfortable throughout the meal. The organist's rosy-cheeked wife -tried to banish the gloom by speaking cheerily upon subjects not akin to -music; but Christoff would not reply, and Sebastian could not, so her -brave attempts soon failed, and the room was left in silence. - -Sebastian's appetite was gone, and as soon as possible he hurried away -to his own room, where, deeply dejected, he sat with his face buried in -his folded arms. - -As the shade of twilight fell across his bowed figure, a quick footstep -sounded behind him, and a soft hand was laid upon his head. - -"Come, Bübchen," said Mrs. Bach kindly, "don't worry any more. Christoff -didn't mean all that he said to-day, and he is sorry that he spoke as he -did. See, I have brought you a bowl of bread and milk, for I noticed -that you ate no dinner. So now forgive Christoff for what he said when -he was angry, and forget all that happened this afternoon. If you act -toward him just as usual, he will do the same with you, and we shall all -be happy again." - -Sebastian eagerly raised his head. - -"He won't think me a thief any longer?" - -"No, no. Certainly not. After he had cooled down a bit I explained to -him what you meant by borrowing his book, and how hard you practised to -learn the second fugue against his return; and he said that he believed -that you were truly honest, and he was sorry that he had accused you -wrongfully." - -"And he'll let me use his book hereafter, and learn to play the fugues?" -cried Sebastian joyfully. - -Mrs. Bach shook her head slowly, her blue eyes fixed sorrowfully upon -the boy. - -"No," she said, "you cannot use his book any more. He said that he would -never scold you again for having taken it last week, but that you must -send him your promise never to play out of it again." - -"Schwester!" ejaculated the boy in keen distress, "why does he forbid me -to use it?" - -"I do not know; I do not know." - -"I may as well give up my playing altogether, for I have finished my own -pieces; Christoff himself said I might leave them now, and I have no -others to study. Music is so costly that I cannot buy any for -myself,--yes, I may as well forget that I wished to be a great, great -musician. Schwester!" The boy's eyes kindled and his cheeks glowed as he -continued ardently,-- - -"I'd like to play so wonderfully by the time I'm a man that whole -audiences would sometimes smile and sometimes cry with the sweetness of -my music, and little children would drop their toys in the street and -stand in my garden listening. But how can I learn without any music to -study?" - -"Buy a book from the cantor with the money you earned to-day in the -parade," suggested Mrs. Bach hopefully. - -Sebastian shook his head. "I can't," he explained, "because I gave half -of it to Georg Erdmann, so that he might go to Gotha to visit his -grandmother, and I paid the rest to a gardener for a present that I -brought home yesterday for you." - -Throwing open the door of his closet, Sebastian stepped inside, and -quickly emerged, bearing in his arms a tiny rose-tree in full bloom. - -"I got it for your New Year's gift, and meant to put it on the dinner -table, but the trouble with Christoff made me forget all about it." - -"Oh, oh, it is a beautiful present, and so fragrant, so fragrant! But, -Bübchen," she said in a fondly chiding tone, "you should not have spent -your pennies for me; I have so much and you so little." - -"I have you, and--and Christoff, and music," returned Sebastian soberly. - -"You are truly a man, and surely a baby," said Mrs. Bach, laughing -merrily. At sound of a voice from below stairs she grew instantly -serious. - -"Christoff is calling me, and I must go down. You promise, Sebastian, -never to play out of his book again?" - -The boy nodded quickly. - -"I promise," he said. - -After she had gone Sebastian sat for hours, thinking. Again and again -he lived over the bitter scene of the afternoon, wincing painfully -every time that memory whispered the word "_stole_." The murmur of -voices below ceased finally, and he realized that the rest of the -household was wrapped in sleep. He lighted his candle and tried to study -his lessons for school, but a sense of sickening disappointment bore -down upon him so heavily that, though his eyes sternly travelled the -printed lines, his mind had room for no other thoughts than these,-- - -"I cannot play. I have no music." - -He was startled from his reverie by the sound of a piteous whine. He -listened for a repetition of the plaint, and when the whine expanded to -a howl, Sebastian leaped from his chair, and dashed through the corridor -and down the kitchen stair, with a pang of recollection. - -"I forgot to let Grubel in, and it's bitter cold outside!" - -He made his way swiftly through the dark room, unbolted the outer door, -and flung it wide. - -A huge St. Bernard bounded into the room, and Sebastian, brushing the -snow from the shaggy coat, caressed his pet affectionately. - -"Now, Grubel, Schwester doesn't like you to stay in this room. Come -along, old fellow, into the passage!" - -The dog obediently followed his master across the dark kitchen, and -trotted through the door that Sebastian held open for him. - -As the boy sought the stairway again, his attention was arrested by a -flood of moonlight pouring through the uncurtained pane and illuminating -one of the much-used music sheets that had fallen from the bag which -Christoff had thrown into the window-sill after locking his own book -behind the wicker door. - -"How bright the night is," thought Sebastian. "One could read the notes, -I believe, without a candle." - -Bending over the pages, he found it to be quite true that the dots and -lines were clearly definable. - -"I wonder if I could write well by such a light; I'll try it," and idly -lifting a pen from his sister's table, he dipped it and scribbled his -name across the top of the music sheet. - -"Very good," observed he, eyeing the scrawl with admiration; then a -thought shot through his brain that seemed to turn him to stone, for he -stood motionless, with head thrown back and pen uplifted, while the -silvery moonlight, bathing him from head to foot, transfixed him into a -marble statue of expectancy. - -"I wonder if I could, I wonder if I could!" he whispered excitedly. -"I'll try now, this very night. If I could get hold of Christoff's -fugues, and copy them here in the moonlight, I should have a book of my -own, and still keep my promise not to play out of his." - -Turning to the cupboard that held the coveted treasure, Sebastian gazed -wistfully into its second shelf. The doors were of strong steel lattice -work, and Sebastian saw that it would be impossible either to insert -his hand through the finely interlaced bars, or to bend them in the hope -of securing a wider opening. - -The boy's burning desire to obtain the music, and his sense of the -justice of his purpose, would not let him draw back without a mighty -effort. - -Casting about for some means of assistance, his eye fell upon his -brother's violin case. Opening this, he hastily extracted the bow, -strong and slender, inserted it between the powerful wires, deftly -worked the roll of music to and fro, drawing it ever nearer until it lay -at the outer edge of the shelf. Slipping one finger and thumb through -the mesh, he seized the roll firmly and drew it from the cabinet. For a -moment he could do nothing but hug the volume madly to his breast, in -the joy of his accomplishment; then running noiselessly up to his room -for copy-paper, he speedily returned, spread the sheets before him on -his sister's table, drew up a chair, and set to work. - -Swiftly and steadily he wrote, bending very low above the page, that he -might read his text correctly. He took no note of the flight of time, -but as the moon rose higher in the heavens, his pages grew shadowy, and -he was obliged to draw the table into the sheen of her passing radiance. -The fire died out, the room grew cold, and the boy from time to time -threw down his pen, and beat and blew upon his benumbed fingers, warming -them to further activity. - -At last the light failed utterly, and in the gloom Sebastian rose, -carefully rolled his brother's manuscript, strapped it as usual, pushed -it through the lattice, adjusted it to its former position by aid of the -violin bow, gathered up his freshly written sheets, and crept cautiously -to his room. - -Next morning he met his brother at breakfast, and Christoff secretly -wondered that the boy wore so cheerful a countenance. No reference was -made to the distressing scene of yesterday, and the brothers set off -together, Christoff on his way to a pupil, and Sebastian to school, -quite as though the painful episode had not happened. - -Sebastian attended his various classes like one in a dream, for his mind -was filled with his daring enterprise, and the tremendous effort he must -put forth before his book should be completed. - -His zeal did not abate, and at evening he waited breathlessly until the -household fell into heavy slumber; then once again he stole down to the -kitchen, arranged his materials at the window, and toiled feverishly -until the white light faded. - -Night after night he repeated his adventurous vigil, and no one of the -family suspected that anything extraordinary was taking place in the -house. - -To Sebastian's surprise, he discovered that the moon rose later each -night; and ere long he was obliged to wait up so late for his shimmering -torch that he was forced to bathe his face in icy water, tramp up and -down his chamber, and bite his tongue severely in order to keep awake. -Even these heroic measures failed when the moon was delayed until the -middle of the night; and Sebastian realized with dismay that he must set -his work aside until the time in the following month when his friendly -lantern would begin again to mount the sky at an early hour. - -Laboring with such hindrances as dim and fleeting light, nearsighted -eyes, loss of sleep, and piercing cold, the lad's progress was -necessarily slow. Week after week, month after month, he continued at -his weighty task; but never once did his interest flag nor his patience -fail. His organ lessons with Christoff were carried on in a half-hearted -fashion, old selections being rehearsed, and studies previously -finished, indifferently played and heard. Had not Sebastian been fired -with a dominant purpose, and bent upon mastering his art at any cost to -himself, he would doubtless, at this period of cold laxity on his -teacher's part, have abandoned his music altogether. But deep in his -breast there was rooted a desire so strong, a hope so pure, that even -Christoff's unjust denial had not power to discourage him. - -If the elder Bach had been less orderly in his habits, Sebastian would -not always have found the manuscript within reach; but though Christoff -took it daily from the cabinet, he always returned it precisely to the -place and position which it had occupied before. - -One night Sebastian barely escaped detection. He had just descended to -the kitchen, and was groping about for the violin box, when accidentally -he stumbled upon the hearth-rug, and overturned a chair with a great -clatter. Christoff, roused by the unwonted noise, bounded from his bed -and made for the stair, pausing just long enough on the way to light a -candle. - -Sebastian was appalled at hearing his brother's step. Dropping to the -floor, he crept hastily under the dining-table, convinced that its -drapery would not screen him from his brother's eagle eye. He shook from -head to foot, not with fear of punishment, but with dread of losing his -chance at the fugues. - -Christoff, however, came only half-way down, and stood upon the stair, -holding the candle high above his head and peering about the dusky -kitchen for traces of intruders. Nothing out of the ordinary greeted his -gaze, for Sebastian had hastily righted the chair before beating his -retreat, and the music roll had not yet been taken from the cupboard. -The organist, perceiving no mark of robbers, heaved a sigh of relief and -quickly repaired to his room, deciding that the disturbance must have -been an ugly dream. - -Six months had glided slowly by, bringing their gifts of increasing -warmth and fragrance, when, one clear midsummer's night, Sebastian -finished his book. He was so beset with agitation upon discovering that -only one page remained to be copied that he could scarcely command -himself to pen the finishing notes. - -"I'm almost done," he murmured over and over, as his quill flew across -the paper. "One line more, and the fugues will be mine! Now, a single -measure, a single measure! One note--ah--it is done, it is done!" - -The monument to little Bach's courage and fidelity was built. - -The pen dropped from his aching fingers, and, overcome with weariness, -he laid down his head beside the closely written sheets and fell asleep. - -His friend, the moon, shone upon him brightly for a time, and in her -pearly beams the tired child's face was as white as the page beside it. -Even she withdrew at length, and nothing disturbed the silence of the -room but the regular breathing of the sleeper. - -He was awakened by a voice exclaiming,-- - -"Bübchen, what are you doing here?" - -Sebastian started up, bewildered, for Mrs. Bach stood beside him, and -the kitchen was blazing with sunshine. - -[Illustration: "Sebastian started up, bewildered."] - -"I--I don't understand," whispered he, dazed by the brightness and the -woman's presence. - -Mrs. Bach laughed and shook him good-naturedly. - -"You're still asleep, that's what is the matter. See, it's breakfast -time, and I am ready to put the kettle on. What have you been doing -here?" - -Sebastian merely pointed to his final page, lying next Christoff's, and -Mrs. Bach gathered the truth at once. - -Up went her hands in astonishment, but prudence stifled the comments -that rose to her lips. - -"Quick! Run up to your room with your papers, and I'll get this roll -back into the cabinet. Hurry, for Christoff will be down in a minute!" - -Sebastian obeyed, and from the bottom of the stairs Mrs. Bach called him -as usual when breakfast was ready. - -The following months were filled with delight for Sebastian, who -studied his fugues with ever-deepening happiness. For this practice, he -intentionally chose the hour when his brother was engaged in teaching at -a distant quarter of the town. Every day, when Christoff set off to the -house of his pupil, Sebastian would hurry to the church, and play from -his precious book until time for the organist to return for his own -organ-work. - -Winter had come again to Ohrdruf, and one day Sebastian climbed to the -organ-loft, placed his cherished book upon the rack, and began to play -the Pachelbel fugues. - -Mrs. Bach, walking in the street, heard the music and entered the -church. Passing up the stair, she drew a stool from a shadowy corner and -sat down to listen and enjoy. - -Sebastian welcomed her with a nod and smile, for the sympathy of his -sister-in-law was his daily comfort. - -One number after another he played, and the harmonies swelling from the -organ at touch of his flying fingers vibrated through the sacred place -from threshold to chancel. - -Musician and listener were so absorbed that they failed to hear a -footfall upon the stair, and both were unaware that a third presence was -added to the gallery. - -Like a thunderbolt out of a blue heaven came a derisive hoot in -Sebastian's ear. His hands were grasped as in a vise, and Christoff's -face bent menacingly above him. - -"Again, again, again," thundered the organist; "again you have stolen my -book, despite your promise!" - -Sebastian struggled to his feet, and confronted his accuser quietly. - -"I have not stolen your book. This one is mine." - -"Yours," sneered Christoff; "pray, where did you get a book of -Pachelbel's fugues?" - -Further concealment was useless, now that his brother had discovered -the existence of his manuscript, so Sebastian in a few words told the -story of his painful and valiant achievement. - -Christoff listened amazedly, but no relenting gleam softened his look of -scorn. He laughed harshly when the tale was ended, and, catching the -fated book from the rack, rolled it tightly and crowded it into his -leathern girdle. - -"I'll end this pretty business at once," he shouted, bringing his teeth -together with a snap. "Finding that steel lattices are not sufficient -protection against your prying fingers, I'll lock my book behind a door -of solid iron, and," triumphantly tapping the volume in his belt, "I'll -put this one along with it for safe keeping." - -"Christoff, husband!" cried Mrs. Bach, her voice breaking into sobs; "do -not be so cruel as to take his book away. He has worked so long, so -hard--" - -She ended her defence abruptly as her eyes fell upon the boy. - -No trace of passion or grief distorted Sebastian's features, but, -instead, his countenance was singularly serene. Turning toward his -brother with a smile of mysterious power and sweetness, he said,-- - -"You may lock my book behind twenty iron doors if you wish, Christoff, -but the music is all written in my heart. You can bury my volume in the -earth or the ocean, but you never can take the fugues away from me -again, for I have memorized them, every one." - - -Many years later King Frederick II. of Prussia assembled his brilliant -court in the throne room at Potsdam to listen to a concert arranged by -the musicians of the royal palace. - -The program was but fairly begun when a page entered the hall, and -dropped upon his knee before the king, with a whispered message. - -Frederick bent with impatience toward the lad who had dared to bring a -petition from any one at a moment so ill chosen, and was about to -dismiss him abruptly, when his ear caught one word of the boy's -tremulous speech. - -The monarch's look of annoyance changed to one of joyful surprise, and -rising quickly, he commanded the musicians to instant silence. - -"Bach has come," declared the king in exultant tone; "Bach has come; the -mighty maker of music. Bring him hither that we may do him homage!" - -A hundred exclamations greeted the king's announcement, and presently a -man of distinguished appearance and quiet dignity was ushered into the -apartment. - -Down from his throne stepped the king, advancing half-way up the hall to -meet the new-comer. By a quick gesture, he forbade the stranger to bend -the knee, but said simply,-- - -"Play for us." - -Without a word the visitor sat down before the piano, and speedily the -room was filled with such music as had never before been heard in the -king's palace. - -Frederick would not permit him to leave the instrument, but sat close -by, in rapt enjoyment, while Bach gave one after another of his -marvellous compositions. - -"For a long, long time I have known of you, Sebastian Bach," murmured -the king, when at last they parted for the night. "Strange tales have -come to my ears of the court composer of Poland and Saxony. I have heard -of the princes who are proud to take you by the hand; of the beggars -that listen in companies before your door; but I never imagined that -music could be such music as you have given us here." - -That night, had the palace of Potsdam had heart to feel and brain to -understand, it surely would have throbbed with hospitality, for within -its well-defended walls slept two who led the world in thought and -action: one was Frederick the Great; the other, Bach the Victor. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[3] Bach (pronounced _Bakh_). - - - - -"THE LITTLE BOY AT ABERDEEN" - -[BYRON] - - -"Vacation's here! Vacation's here!" shouted George Byron, bursting into -the room and throwing his books upon the table. - -"And a pity it is," returned his mother coldly; "you are so bad at -numbers that you ought to be at school every day in the year." - -George flushed deeply, but did not reply. He had learned that when Mrs. -Byron wore this worried expression it was wiser of him to keep silence. -Doubtless she had received one of those troublesome business letters -again. Such missives always did disturb matters in the Aberdeen -apartment, often causing Mrs. Byron to speak sharply to those about her. - -This lady had belonged to the Gordons, one of the proudest families in -Scotland; and upon her marriage with handsome Jack Byron, her fortune -was seized to pay his numerous debts. Consequently, at her husband's -death a few years later, Mrs. Byron was left in the city of Aberdeen -with scarcely enough to keep herself and her child from want. The tiny -rooms in Broad Street were filled with the massive furniture and costly -vases, mirrors, and china that Mrs. Byron had brought from her father's -house at her bridal; but the cupboard was scantily provisioned, and much -thought and labor were required to keep George's apparel in trim for -school. While, however, Mrs. Byron spent only pennies where her -neighbors lavished pounds, her brain and fingers contrived so -successfully that neither she nor the lad ever presented a shabby -appearance. - -"Come, George," said the lady more gently, repenting her impatience, -"put your books away, and May will serve tea at once." - -The boy's face brightened, and whistling softly, he crossed the room to -the bookshelves. The odd slide and sudden halt with which he moved, -together with the stout cane upon which he leaned, betokened that "the -little boy at Aberdeen" was not quite like other boys. - -Sadly enough, George Byron was lame, a burden very hard for an impetuous -lad to bear. He was, however, too plucky ever to allude to his -affliction in the presence of his playmates, but carried his misfortune -bravely and independently as long as his companions seemed to forget it, -and seldom was any of them so unkind as to mention his crooked feet. -Athletic sports were his chief delight, although there were few that he -could enter. At running, leaping, and dancing he was helpless, always -forced to stand aside and watch when these were in progress; but he was -an expert archer, could throw farther than any boy at the grammar -school, and with the sling his marksmanship was astonishing. He was a -prime favorite with all the boys at school and in the neighborhood of -Broad Street, and he was thoroughly accustomed to the rôle, for his -handsome face and fun-loving disposition speedily won admiration -wherever he went. - -He gayly joined the boys in their pranks and adventures, often with his -ringing voice and daring spirit commanding the expeditions, but, to the -lads' amazement, he found his best enjoyment in the company of a little -girl named Mary Duff. She was such a pretty child that passers-by often -turned to look after her, and her soft voice and sweet manner showed her -to be a real little gentlewoman. The mothers approved of this -friendship, for they said that Mary improved George's manners, and that -George helped Mary with her reading. The children loved each other -dearly, and seldom did there pass a day when they two were not seen -together. - -To-night, at bedtime, George said: - -"Wake me early, please, mother, for Mary, Aladdin, and I are going to -spend the day by the river." - -Mrs. Byron promised, and accordingly the next morning George felt -himself being shaken by the shoulder, while from the midst of a dream he -heard his mother say,-- - -"Wake up, wake up! This is the third time that I have called you, and -Mary is already here." - -Up sprang George, all drowsiness put to flight. When he had dressed -himself and finished his bowl of oatmeal, he joined Mary in the -drawing-room with a tin box of sandwiches, and an apple in each pocket. - -The visitor bore a small basket containing her contributions to the -luncheon; and as she slipped off the sofa at George's entrance her -pinafore and little sunbonnet rustled loudly in their starchy crispness. - -Down the stairs hurried the pair, bent upon calling for Aladdin, the -third member of their company. - -As they reached the street, George was accosted by Bobby Black, who, -with a group of neighboring boys, was emerging from his gate opposite. - -"Come on, Byron, we're going to watch the cricket game in Murdoch's -field!" - -George shook his head decisively. - -"I'm going somewhere else." - -"Ha, ha! Ho, ho!" jeered the boys in chorus, and Bobby called out in a -teasing tone,-- - -"Oh, you'd rather go with Mary Duff than with us. You're Mary Duff's -beau! Ha, ha! You're Mary Duff's beau!" - -The little girl crimsoned with annoyance at Bobby's silly taunt, but -George retorted quickly,-- - -"Well, _you_ can't be Mary Duff's beau until you learn to wash your -hands." - -The laugh turned on Bobby, and George and Mary set off in quest of -comrade number three. - -As they approached a square stone building, a man standing before its -open door disappeared within, only to return immediately, leading -Aladdin, the most captivating of Shetland ponies. - -This animal was George's one important possession, but instead of a -plaything, it had been purchased for the boy's convenience in getting -about. George's poor feet made walks of any great length painful -undertakings, but sitting on Aladdin's back, he could go as far and as -swiftly as he desired. - -The pony was black and satiny for the most part, but upon his forehead a -small white patch was to be seen, and his mane and tail were snowy. He -was so fond of his master that he would follow him about like a kitten; -and he always whinnied joyfully whenever the boy appeared at the stable -door. - -George tied his box and Mary's basket to the small red saddle, and -turned to his companion. - -"We'll ride and tie, of course. You mount first, and leave him at -Baillie's stile." - -Stooping, as he had read that the great lairds did, he allowed Mary to -place her chubby foot in his clasped hands. Then, with her agile spring, -he landed her securely on Aladdin's back. She gathered up the reins and -trotted away, while George took up his walking stick and limped slowly -after her. - -Their plan was the old one, followed often by farmers and mountaineers, -when two persons travel with one horse. One rides to a certain point, -dismounts, ties the horse and walks on, while the other trudges along on -foot until he comes to the place where the horse is waiting, when he -mounts and rides to a second stopping-place, secures the animal for his -friend, and once more tramps on his way. Thus, by changes of walking and -riding, a goodly journey can be accomplished with less fatigue than -might be supposed. - -To-day the playmates proceeded along the wooded shore of the river Dee, -at no great distance from home, but far enough that they were able to -walk on the soft earth, to stand in a forest of mighty trees, and to -bask in sunshine undimmed by the city's smoke and grime. - -The journey was a difficult one for George, for he insisted upon walking -his full share of the way, and, hopping along with his stout cane, he -would sometimes be obliged to lean heavily against a tree or rock, -panting violently and clutching at his support with both hands. He dared -not drop down on the mossy bank, lest with no one near to lend him a -hand he might not manage to get up again. So, after but two or three -turns of marching, George sat down upon a stump and waited for Mary and -Aladdin to come up with him. - -The pony, with his dainty sunbonneted rider, soon came into view, and -George hailed them from the roadside. - -"Hi! Let's stay here. Don't you think we have gone far enough?" - -"Yes," said Mary, pushing back her bonnet and glancing about the quiet -place, where dazzling sunbeams pierced through the leafy ceiling and -lightened the carpet of gay green moss; "do let's stay here; it seems -nice and far." - -Whereupon the lady slipped from her saddle, and leaving Aladdin to his -own devices, after prudently freeing him of box and basket, joined -George on the stump. - -"What shall we do first?" she queried. - -"Let's throw clay balls," suggested George, rising quickly. - -"Let's!" agreed Mary. So together they scrambled down the river bank, -and heaped a piece of driftwood with stiff clay. Returning, George cut -two slender switches from a willow-tree and presented one to his -partner. Then he rolled a bit of clay into a marble-sized ball, pressed -it firmly on the tip of the rod, and, with a quick fling, sent the ball -far out into the river. - -George wielded his twig so dexterously that he could tap a mast in a -passing boat, and selecting almost any tree, stone, or sail within a -range of two hundred yards, could send his pudgy bullet home. - -His cheeks soon glowed with the fun and exercise, and at every swish of -the withe he called his comrade to bear witness to his unerring aim. - -Mary, following his example, faithfully loaded her switch and let fly at -every target that her fancy chose. Her success, however, was not -brilliant, for her ball seldom soared beyond the shadows of the trees -under which they sat, and never by any chance approached the object she -had intended to hit. After numerous fruitless efforts, she laid aside -her wand and brought from her basket a rag-doll which George had -christened "Heatheress." - -Luncheon followed, and when Mary had spread the repast on a napkin, she -said,-- - -"Let's play house while we eat, and I'll be the mother, and you be the -father, and Heatheress will be the baby, and Aladdin--oh, yes, Aladdin -will be the visitor." - -Now George would have writhed with shame had the boys at school heard -of his entering into such girlish pastimes as this, but Mary was always -so ready to join any game that he suggested, no matter how much she -might dislike it, that he felt in duty bound to play her plays a part of -the time. Besides, Mary Duff was so sweet, so winsome, that George found -it hard to refuse anything that she asked; so he played "house" with a -will, and enjoyed it nearly as much as she. - -"Mr. Aladdin," called Mistress Mary, as she gathered her family about -the board, "please don't take the trouble to come downstairs; I have -just sent your luncheon up to your room." - -The guest was evidently pleased with the arrangement, for he ate -heartily of the delicious green things that he found in his apartment. - -When the children had finished, they withdrew to the screen of a blasted -oak and sat rigidly still, watching the birds fly down and carry away -the crumbs of the feast. - -Later, they made little rafts of chips gathered from the river, -furnished them with paper sails and pebbly cargoes, and set them afloat -for Spain, Africa, and Jamaica. - -Finally, George drew from the breast of his jacket a faded, ragged book, -and lay in the grass reading aloud from his favorite story of Robert -Bruce, while Mary leaned against a tree near by and listened. Before the -reader had reached the climax of the tale, he glanced over his book, -only to discover the little girl fast asleep against her tree, with her -lap full of wild flowers. Forbearing to disturb her, George finished the -story in silence. Then the book slipped from his hands and he, too, -stretched on the cool grass, with a few stray sunbeams flickering across -him, sank down, down, to the land of dreams. - -[Illustration: "Lay in the grass reading aloud from his favorite -story."] - -A sociable whinny roused the boy at length, and scrambling up by aid of -a slender sapling, he noticed that the shadows had greatly lengthened -during his nap. - -"Wake up, Mary," he called, tweaking one of her brown curls; "I -promised your mother that I would bring you back by five o'clock, and we -must go now." - -Mary assented, as she usually did to whatever George proposed, and in -five minutes she had sprung into the red saddle and cantered off to the -first tying-place. - -"Where's mother?" cried George, entering the house half an hour later. - -"She's gone to Mrs. McCurdie's for tea," replied May Gray, the Scotch -woman who had been George's nurse. - -"Then I'll get Mary to come and have tea with me," and Master Byron -hurried down the stairs and through his neighbor's gate. He returned -shortly, bringing Mary with him; and the children were in the midst of -their meal, when the street door was thrown hastily open and Mrs. Byron -stepped into the room. Her cheeks were scarlet, and her eyes flashing -with excitement. - -"What is it, mother?" demanded George, rising, alarmed by her visible -agitation. - -Mrs. Byron placed both hands upon his shoulders, and looking down into -his eyes, said hurriedly,-- - -"Your great-uncle, Lord Byron, is dead; and you, George, are now Lord -Byron of Rochdale, master of Newstead Abbey, and chief of the Erneis." - -The boy looked bewildered, and resting one hand upon the table for -support, he bent earnestly toward his mother. - -"_I am Lord Byron?_" - -"You are! you are! Mrs. McCurdie has just come from Newstead, and she -told me that uncle died nearly a month ago. There has been some mistake, -else we should have heard of it before. I never knew the old gentleman, -for he and poor Jack were not the best of friends, but I cannot think -that he would have had us left in ignorance of his death. Doubtless the -letters and papers will come very soon, and then, my lord, you can go -to England and take possession of your castle." - -"It--is--very--strange," murmured the boy. Always he had known that some -day he would probably come into his uncle's title and estates, but he -had somehow expected the momentous event to delay its happening until he -should become a man. That honor and riches should at this time come to -him, little George Byron, of Broad Street, Aberdeen, was an overwhelming -surprise. True to his nature, whenever deeply moved by joy or sorrow, he -grew silent, trying to settle in his own mind whether he was the same -boy who had thrown clay balls in the woods that day. - -Mrs. Byron rapidly explained some of the changes to come, and George -listened as though stunned by the glories of his prospects. - -May Gray, his devoted old nurse, slipped out and imparted the news of -her dear boy's succession to all whom she met. - -Presently neighbors and friends came flocking in to hear the story. The -drawing-room became quickly crowded with guests, and they made so much -of George, shaking his hand, patting his head, bowing to him, and -offering compliments he did not understand, that the boy began to think -being a lord was rather tiresome business. - -When they departed, George closed the door upon the last one with a loud -sigh of relief, and went in search of Mary, with whom he had not spoken -since his mother had arrived with her astounding message. - -The little girl sat demurely on a low stool, and as George approached -her, she rose and backed timidly away. - -The boy looked at her curiously. - -"What's the matter?" he asked. - -"I--I must go home," she whispered, making for the door. - -"No, you mustn't! Your mother said you were to wait until your father -called for you. It's terribly early yet." - -"But I must go," insisted the child, with her hand upon the knob. - -"Mary!" - -George's tone was suddenly masterful. "Are you mad at me?" - -"No, oh, no," she replied, shaking her head vigorously. - -"Well, something makes you seem very queer. If you're not mad, tell me -why you're starting home!" - -Mary looked at him steadily for a moment, then her brown eyes filled -with tears, her chin began to quiver, and she sobbed out,-- - -"I can't play with you any more, George, because your mother said you -were--_a lord_, and--_awful rich_!" - -Down went her face into the circle of her chubby arm. - -"Mary, don't cry, please don't cry!" entreated George with a suspicious -break in his own voice. "I like you the very same, the very same, and -I'm just as I was, Mary. Truly I am." - -Perceiving with distress that the little maid's plump shoulders still -shook with grief, George regarded her uncertainly for a moment, then -hurried across to Mrs. Byron, who sat busily writing at her desk. - -"Mother," he inquired anxiously, "do you see any difference in me since -I have been made a lord?" - -"No," replied she, laughing, without looking up, "certainly not." - -"There! I told you!" he exclaimed triumphantly, returning to the side of -his sorrowful guest. "You will believe mother, won't you?" - -A nod of the head against the pinafore sleeve rewarded him. Then from -the depths of the elbow came in a choking voice,-- - -"But, George, you are going away!" - -"Yes," he returned sadly, "I am going away." - -A fresh outburst of weeping greeted his admission, and at his wits' end -for means to comfort the little woman, he declared,-- - -"When I leave, Mary, I'll give Aladdin to you." - -"Oh, George, _Aladdin_!" - -Up came the tear-stained face, dimpling with joy and surprise. - -"Yes, Aladdin. And whenever you ride him, it will be just as nice as -playing with me, won't it now?" - -"Oh, yes," she assented graciously. - -"And, Mary," went on the boy earnestly, the while something tugged hard -at his heart and threatened too to strangle him, "let's promise that all -our lives you'll like me better than anybody else in the world, and I'll -like you better than anybody else in the world." - -"Let's!" she agreed; and George took her brown little hand in his, and -pressed it to his lips, in such fashion as he had read that the gallant -Gordons greeted the ladies of their clan. - -The following day came a letter with an impressive yellow seal, -confirming the fact of George's lordship. - -Then followed a sale of all the furniture and draperies which the -Byrons had used in the Broad Street flat; and one morning in July, the -family left Aberdeen for England. - -They were not to go to the castle at once to live, for the Earl of -Carlisle, George's new guardian, had decreed that he should attend one -of the great English schools for boys, joining his mother only at -vacation times. Mrs. Byron did not desire to spend the months of -George's absence alone in the great establishment, so she had taken a -house near the school, where, except for occasional visits to the new -domain, they would reside while George's education was being further -advanced. But now they were going for a glimpse of their future home, -and after to-day, Aberdeen would know them no more. - -May Gray accompanied the Byrons to England, sturdily refusing to be left -behind. - -Mary Duff attended them to the coach, and the children's parting was a -tearful one on both sides. But after many embraces, and the boy's -promise to send her a letter every week, Mary allowed George to mount to -the seat beside his mother; and as the conveyance rolled slowly away, -she waved both chubby hands in response to George's steadily fluttering -handkerchief, until the coach, Blue Dog, was lost to view. - -After a night spent at the Nottingham inn, the Byrons hired a carriage -and drove out to Newstead. - -When they came to the Abbey woods, and the woman at the toll-bar held -out her hand to receive their coins, Mrs. Byron, playfully feigning to -be a stranger in order to hear what the toll-keeper would say, asked -lightly,-- - -"To whom does this place belong?" - -"The owner, Lord Byron, has been some weeks dead." - -"And who is the next heir?" ventured Mrs. Byron. - -Innocently the woman replied,-- - -"They say it is a little boy who lives at Aberdeen." - -"And this is he, bless him!" ejaculated May Gray, unable to keep the -secret; and at her words, the astonished toll-woman bowed nearly to the -ground, hysterically commanding the baby who clung to her skirts to -salute his young lord. - -The Byrons drove through the Abbey woods, which proved to be an arm of -the very Sherwood forest where long ago had dwelt Robin Hood and his -merry men. Past the lake, with its fish, pleasure boats, and the toy -ships which the old lord had delighted to sail to the end of his days; -through the park, stocked with deer for the chase, and up to the Abbey -they came. - -The boy caught his breath at sight of the grand old structure which had -been the glory and retreat of hundreds of monks in the Middle Ages, and -which later King Henry the Eighth had presented to a certain Lord Byron, -who had fashioned one of its wings into a princely dwelling. The -visitors drove around the ancient pile, feasting their eyes upon its -Anglo-Gothic beauties; then they descended from the carriage and entered -the building. Guided by one of the servants in charge of the premises, -they visited the dim cloisters, where scores of hooded monastics had -daily walked; the chapel, the cells, the castle dungeons, the vast hall -where the first Lord Byron had entertained three hundred guests at -Christmas dinner; the late lord's drawing-room, the art gallery, and the -mighty kitchen. - -Everywhere the news had spread that the boyish guest was none other than -the rightful lord of Newstead; and wherever George Byron appeared, men -uncovered deferentially, and women and children offered sweeping -curtsies. Mrs. Byron smiled at these with proud acknowledgment, and May -Gray chuckled without ceasing throughout the progress, but George's -face was uncommonly grave. - -When his feet became too weary to allow of further touring, the party -sat down before an open-air luncheon, spread for them on a table in the -shade of a great elm. - -Mrs. Byron, noting George's sombre silence, asked curiously,-- - -"Of what are you thinking, my lord?" - -"Of Mary," he returned soberly. - -"Of Mary," she exclaimed in surprise; "doesn't the sight of all this -grandeur atone for her loss?" - -"No," he returned, "nothing can take the place of Mary." - -"Then I'll tell you what we'll do," rejoined his mother quickly; "if you -promise to study well at school, and bring in good reports, we will come -back to Newstead at holiday time, and invite Mary to spend Christmas -with us here." - -"Oh, mother, do you mean it?" - -"Certainly, I mean it." - -"Hurrah, hurrah, for Newstead and Christmas and Mary!" - - -One day in the city of London there was published a strangely beautiful -poem. Upon the first page was printed the title, "Childe Harold," and -just beneath it appeared the name of the author: George Gordon Byron. - -When the scholars and students and fashionable folk read the little -book, they were spellbound by the beauty of the story and the verse. -Immediately they said to one another,-- - -"We must know him, this poet who can write such enchanting lines;" and -forthwith they thronged to his house to learn what sort of a person he -might be. - -They found a man, young, genial, elegant in appearance and cordial in -manner. A few noticed that he limped slightly when he walked; others -that his features were strikingly handsome; and all agreed that any one -so thoughtful and talented should be sought out and welcomed to every -one of their homes. - -Thereupon, invitations began to pour in upon the poet, every post -bringing letters from persons of rank, families of quiet life, -statesmen, professors, and even people from the provinces, urging George -Byron to visit them and enjoy the hospitality they had to offer. The -citizens of London opened their doors to him with one accord, vying with -one another for the privilege of receiving him under their roofs. - -The young lord was astonished at the warmth of their enthusiasm, and to -this day is remembered his saying,-- - -"I awoke one morning and found myself famous." - - - - -"TOM PEAR-TREE'S PORTRAIT" - -[GAINSBOROUGH] - - -Tommy Gainsborough did a very dreadful thing. If he had not possessed -such a trick in the use of pen and pencil, this never would have -happened. But, you see, he spent most of his school hours in drawing -pictures on the fly-leaves of his books, which pleased the other boys so -greatly that he filled their books also with sketches of people, trees, -and houses; while they, in return, worked out his problems in fractions -and wrote his spelling lessons for him. His copy-book he was content to -keep himself, for he chanced to be the best penman at the Sudbury -Grammar School, and his pages were always elegantly inscribed. - -As the months went by, and his lesson papers were daily found to be -correct, the teacher's reports of Master Gainsborough's progress proved -highly gratifying to the boy's parents. But while Jack supplied his -answers in arithmetic, and Joe prompted him with names and dates at -history time, Tommy Gainsborough's ignorance of these subjects was -deplorable, and his conduct towards parents and teachers was deceiving -indeed. - -As spring came on he grew restless under the confinement of walls and -rules, and longed for the dewy fields and fragrant lanes. If only he -might spend the days outside, he thought, instead of sitting mewed up in -this dreary schoolroom, what splendid woodland pictures he could draw. -Twice he asked the schoolmaster to excuse him, but Mr. Burroughs curtly -refused, since it would be unfair to dismiss one pupil to roam the -meadows and keep the others at their tasks. Tommy next tried his father, -but that gentleman replied with all seriousness,-- - -"My son, you have worked so well this term that I wish you to keep a -perfect record until the end of the year. When vacation comes you will -be free to spend every day out of doors, but your education is too -important to be slighted for pleasure." - -Tommy was much disappointed at this decision, and, I am sorry to say, -closed the door quite ungently as he started for school. - -The day was an enchanting one, and as the boy trudged along the unpaved -streets that ran between rows of quaint and ancient houses, a feeling of -hot rebellion took possession of him. - -"Father does as he likes," he muttered, "and I think I ought to do the -same way once in a while. What is the sense in listening to old -Burroughs drone all day about nouns and divisors?" - -The fresh spring breeze, with its scents of green things growing, was so -tantalizing that he paused before the schoolhouse door and thoughtfully -wrinkled his brow. Presently his face grew defiant, and he dashed into -the schoolroom with the look of a man who had made up his mind to do as -he pleased. - -Finding himself to be the first arrival, he hurried to his desk. Deftly -tearing from his copy-book a slip of paper resembling those upon which -Mr. Gainsborough wrote Tommy's occasional excuses, the boy dipped his -pen and quickly wrote the words,-- - -"Give Tom a holiday." - -Now if he had used his own style of penmanship the ruse would have been -readily understood by the schoolmaster; but he boldly imitated his -father's finely pointed lettering to a nicety, and at the end jotted -down the initials, "_J. G._," with two short lines drawn under them, -just as his father would have signed the note. - -Carefully drying his pen, he closed his desk and left the building -before any one else arrived. He waited around the corner until almost -time for school to begin, then rushed into the schoolroom, now filled -with noisy pupils, marched straight up to the master's desk, and -presented his forged excuse. - -Mr. Burroughs read the slip with some surprise. - -"Of course, Tom," he said, "if your father wishes you to have a holiday, -I shall not refuse permission; but I understood that he wished you to -remain steadily at school until vacation time." - -"May I go?" queried the boy hastily, not caring to discuss the question. - -Mr. Burroughs bowed, but laid the slip of paper in his desk. Tommy, not -lingering for further debate, sped from the room; and when he reached -the place in the next street, where, under Dame Curran's rosebush, he -had hidden his sketch-book, he threw his cap high in air from sheer joy -of springtime and freedom. - -Out from the town he hurried, and soon was tramping through the forest -that furnished the banks of the winding river Stour. All day long he -revelled in the glory of the woods, and hour after hour he worked with -his pencil, striving to put into his book the charming bits of landscape -that greeted his eye on every side. One sketch comprised a bend in the -river, with grassy meads beyond; another, an old vine-covered bridge, -now fallen into disuse; a third merely pictured a broken tree lying -across the sunlit path. - -Occasionally he experienced a sharp twinge somewhere when he remembered -that all this pleasure was stolen. "But then," he argued, "what -difference does it make? Old Burroughs didn't know, and father will -never find it out!" - -He stifled these pricking thoughts as fast as they arose, not permitting -them seriously to disturb his holiday. He whistled, he sang, he lay on -his back and looked up at the sky through the chinks in the tender -foliage. Sometimes he closed his eyes and listened, and the mysterious -woodland sounds, mingled with the purling of the river, yielded him -boundless enjoyment. When, however, the shadows of the trees fell at a -certain angle, Tommy closed his sketch-book with a sigh and went swiftly -homeward. - -"I must get there at the usual time," he meditated, "else they'll ask me -where I've been." - -As he came in sight of the "Black Horse," the public inn of bygone -times, where armored knights had claimed food and shelter, but which was -now the comfortable residence of John Gainsborough, Tommy began to -whistle airily. - -Approaching nearer, he discovered that his father had come with pipe and -chair to the front stoop, and was sitting with his face turned down the -street, as though watching for somebody. - -Tommy began to whistle louder, and as he turned in at the gate, his -countenance was beaming with innocence. - -He bounded up the steps with the intention of getting into the house as -quickly as possible, but as his hand touched the latch a stentorian -voice said,-- - -"Thomas!" - -The boy stopped short, his eyes round with surprise, his lips still -puckered for the whistling that had been so abruptly quelled. - -"I called for you at school to-day." - -"_Called for me at school to-day_," echoed Tommy, reddening in dismay. - -"I did. I found that I must drive out to Squire Bagley's place, and I -decided to take you along. It seems that you had already given Mr. -Burroughs an excuse from me." - -Tommy's fingers began to pick at his jacket, and he racked his brains -for a story that would fit the occasion. - -"Well, father, I thought--" - -"Silence, if you please! I am terribly shocked to find that my son would -deliberately write and act a lie. Such conduct deserves the severest -punishment. Will you take your whipping before tea or after?" - -"After," said Tommy promptly; and accepting this as a dismissal he -vanished into the house. - -The evening meal was not a joyous one for the culprit, owing to his -foretaste of what was coming later. His brothers and sisters evidently -knew nothing of his escapade, and chattered among themselves as usual; -but his mother's eyes rested upon him from time to time with sorrow in -their depths. Once a sob came into Tommy's throat, but he fiercely -choked it back, scorning to weep even under such harrowing -circumstances. - -As the family rose from the table, Mr. Gainsborough, pointing to the -stairway, said sternly,-- - -"To your own room, Thomas!" - -Very slowly the boy obeyed, and when the upper door had closed upon him, -Mrs. Gainsborough laid a detaining hand upon her husband's arm. - -"Wait for a moment, John, and look at the child's work." - -Mrs. Gainsborough, who was herself an accomplished painter of flowers, -opened Tommy's sketch-book, and laid before her husband's eyes the -record of the day's outlawry. - -A whispered consultation followed, then Mr. Gainsborough ascended the -stair with a heavy, portentous tread. - -Tommy, sitting miserably on the side of his bed, heard the measured -tramp, tramp along the corridor; and folding his arms he set his teeth -grimly and waited for the worst. - -Mr. Gainsborough entered the room and closed the door behind him. - -"Thomas," he began in a relentless tone, "you have disgraced yourself -and your family by your behavior to-day, but I have decided not to give -you a whipping." - -Tommy leaped from the bed with an exclamation of puzzled relief. - -"Instead, my son, I shall take away all your pencils and drawing -materials for a month, and shall see that you do not have access to any -at school." - -"Oh, father," howled Tommy despairingly, "I'd rather take the -whipping--even two of 'em, if you'll give me back my things! Please whip -me, father, as you said you would, and let me have my sketch-book!" - -"At the end of a month, and not one day sooner." - -Mr. Gainsborough kept his word, and throughout the following weeks -Tommy's fingers fairly tingled for the touch of his beloved instruments. -Pencils and paper were so costly at that time that it was useless for -him to save his pennies in the hope of buying them for himself; and -during the weary days of waiting, Tommy decided positively that his pen -should never again perform dishonest tricks, plunging him into such -trouble. - -One midsummer morning, weeks after Tommy's pencils had been restored to -him, Mrs. Gainsborough appeared at the corner of the garden, where the -boy was busily digging worms for fish bait. - -"Tommy," she inquired in a vexed tone, "have you been gathering my -yellow pears?" - -"No," returned he, pushing his hat back and looking up at the distressed -lady. - -Now Tommy was guilty of so many mischievous doings that when anything -went wrong about the place he was always suspected of being in the plot -somewhere, though sometimes he was truly innocent, as happened to be the -case just now. - -"No," he repeated, "I haven't touched a single one of the yellow pears. -Honor bright!" - -"Then some one else has," declared Mrs. Gainsborough. "For three days, -since they have been ripening so beautifully, I have tried to find -enough to fill a fancy basket for the dean; and although each evening I -have seen ten or twelve that would be perfect in another day, I have -gone the following morning to gather them, and have found only hard and -green ones hanging. The other children know nothing about it, so I -suppose some one has stolen the pears. It is too provoking!" - -Mrs. Gainsborough turned away, and her son went on with his digging, -giving no further thought to the missing fruit. - -The next morning he awoke very early, so early that the great red sun -was just peeping over the hill. He turned drowsily on his pillow and was -preparing to launch into another delicious nap, when it occurred to him -that sunrise was a capital time for the drawing of shadows. - -Instantly he scrambled out of bed, and five minutes later was on his way -through the orchard with his sketch-book under his arm. - -Dew lay thickly upon the grass and leaves, and even the ruddy fruit -hanging overhead sparkled brightly as the first rays of the sun shone -upon its clinging drops. - -"Now for the shadows," thought Tommy, glancing about the orchard. "I -think I'll draw that clump of currant bushes, if I can get a good -position." - -He walked up and down several times, trying to find a place where his -view would be unobstructed. This was no easy matter amid so many trees, -but at length he found that by sitting inside the entrance of an old -rustic summer-house he could command his model exactly. - -A few feet at his left, and close beside the stone wall dividing the -orchard from the public road, grew his mother's pear-tree, laden with -ripe, rich fruit. - -Tommy had opened his book, and with half-closed eyes and uplifted pencil -was measuring the height of the currant bushes, when, to his surprise, a -head suddenly appeared above the wall, at the very spot shaded by the -pear-tree. - -[Illustration: "A head suddenly appeared above the wall."] - -The stranger cast a quick, cautious glance about the premises, showing -that his errand was no friendly one, then threw back his head and gazed -greedily at the luscious pears that grew above him. As he stood thus, -with the morning light falling brightly across his visage, Tommy saw -that his features were strongly marked and prominent, his face seamed by -deep and vicious lines. - -The boy, accustomed to study the form and appearance of things, quickly -comprehended the stranger's long nose, low brow, pointed chin, and -hollow cheeks. - -The man looked furtively about for the second time and sprang to the top -of the wall. Quite unconscious that a spectator was eagerly watching -from the covered structure near by, the intruder ascended boldly into -the pear-tree and proceeded to fill his pockets and hat with the juicy -fruit. - -Never a sound came from the summer-house, but before the rogue had -completed his stolen harvest, Tommy's cunning pencil had drawn the -robber's portrait, with the narrowed eyes, leering lips, unkempt hair, -and rakish hat, exactly as they had impressed him at the moment when -the vagabond stood gazing aloft at the fruit overhead. Tommy finished -the sketch with a few hasty strokes, then closed his book and burst -suddenly from the summer-house, shouting "Wow, wow!" at the top of his -voice. - -Down leaped the man to the earth, and scaling the wall at a bound, he -fled, dropping many of the pears as he ran. - -Tommy's unearthly shrieks had roused the household, and he hurriedly -explained to his mother the cause of her daily vanishing pears, -displaying his sketch as proof of his argument. - -An hour later Mr. Gainsborough opened Tommy's book before the squire, -pointed to the drawing upon the last page, and related the story of the -boy's early morning experience. - -The squire immediately recognized the picture as of a ne'er-do-weel who -had been loitering about Sudbury for some time, and who had more than -once been convicted of petty thieving. - -"I'll send for him," declared the magistrate; and that very afternoon -the offender was brought in. - -Mr. Gainsborough accused him of invading his orchard and attempting to -carry away his fruit; but the culprit stoutly denied all knowledge of -the episode. - -Quietly the squire opened Tommy's book, and held it before the -defendant's astonished gaze. - -He uttered a baffled whine, then, with a laugh that was like a snarl, he -admitted his guilt of the morning, and also confessed to having robbed -the pear-tree upon three previous occasions. - -"My man," announced the squire sternly, "I shall let you go free this -time upon your promise of good behavior, but if you ever repeat the -offence I'll give you a sentence of confinement on bread and water. -There is plenty of honest employment to be had in Sudbury, and I advise -you to go to work and live as a decent citizen." - -The man shambled out, and from that day forth was seen no more about -the village. - -Mr. Gainsborough, concluding from the day's developments that he could -justly afford to encourage this play-work of Tommy's, which was -beginning to take on a shade of importance, bought a large new -sketch-book and presented it to the boy. - -Tommy turned five somersaults to express the warmth of his gratitude; -but before despatching the old book to its future home on the closet -shelf, he opened it and, with his bravest flourishes, wrote beneath the -sketch on the final page,-- - -"Tom Pear-tree's Portrait." - - -When years had gone by and Thomas Gainsborough had arrived at manhood, -he astonished all England by his remarkable paintings. His pictures of -woods and lanes, fields and shining water, captivated the country folk -by presenting so perfectly the scenes before their doors; and the city -dwellers were awakened by his colors to the charms of the wide, sweet -country they had forgotten. - -These landscape studies set Thomas Gainsborough high in the world of -art, but when at length he turned his cunning brush to the task of -painting portraits, his fame was heralded from city to province. He -began by making likenesses of his wife and daughters, and when these -were exhibited at the Royal Academy, people exclaimed at the skill and -dignity of the work. Even King George III., who chanced to visit the -gallery on one of these occasions, paused before Gainsborough's canvas, -and clasped his hands in admiration. - -"Summon this painter to the palace," commanded he, "and let him paint -his sovereign and his queen." - -This order from the king made Gainsborough's portraits the fashion at -court, and straightway all the ladies of rank and beauty came to him, -entreating him to paint their pictures. - -His fortune and reputation, by these well-earned favors, rose far beyond -anything he had expected, and if ever a man was truly happy in his life -and work, that man was Thomas Gainsborough. - -He was so generous, so good-humored, so lovable in his old-time -frankness, that people who sought his acquaintance because he was a -famous artist quickly forgot his amazing skill in the pleasure of his -ever-boyish company. - -It was supposed that he had reached the climax of his art when he -exhibited a picture of the Duchess of Devonshire, for this set Great -Britain agog with praise and wonder; but Thomas Gainsborough was -destined to climb yet one step higher in the ladder of public esteem, -and the work that crowned his success and brought the world to his feet -was a childish portrait entitled "Blue Boy." This was hung on the wall -of the Royal Academy, and when the spectators came surging through the -gallery, chattering amiably of this canvas and that, they halted -speechless before the boy with the thoughtful eyes, the fresh brown -skin, and the pale-blue dress. The lad was so young, so sweet, so -lifelike in his quiet pose, that not a word was uttered by the critics -standing by. One by one they slipped away, aware that Thomas -Gainsborough had not attained the goal of his greatness by pictures of -kings, queens, court beauties, and mighty soldiers, but by the youthful, -innocent portrait entitled simply "Blue Boy." - - - - -GEORG'S CHAMPION - -[HÄNDEL] - - -"No, no, Hans, you are too loud, and Frieda goes too fast! Just listen -to Otto's trumpet and watch my cane, all of you, and then you'll be -right." - -The tone was an emphatic one, and the speaker pounded sharply on the -floor with his walking stick. - -He was a small boy, whose flaxen hair hung straight and thick on either -side of his face. He was panting with excitement, his eyes were -sparkling, his lips were set. - -Before him, on the floor, sat six boys and girls in a semi-circle, -attending earnestly to his commands. One boy possessed a toy horn; two -others, mouth organs; a fourth, a chubby girl, had dropped a tin fife in -sheer fright; and the fifth and sixth clung to drum and dinner-bell -respectively. - -"This time," went on the conductor sternly, "I want you to begin when I -bring my cane _down_. Now watch! One, two, three, four,--_one_!" - -As the big baton descended with the leader's vehement "_one_," a -deafening uproar burst from the obedient orchestra. - -"Keep on, keep on! You're going it now! _Slower_, Frieda! One, two, -three, four!" - -The director swung his cane vigorously, shouting his orders above the -strains of the lusty symphony. A few measures were bravely rendered, -when the conductor suddenly threw down his stick with a look of extreme -exasperation. - -"Peter," he said quietly, in the tone of a teacher sorely tried but -patient, "please don't _jingle_ the bell. Take the clapper in your hand, -and tap it when I say 'one' and 'three.' Like this!" and seizing the -bell, he illustrated his meaning, compelling the fat offender to perform -the feat to his satisfaction before going on with the rehearsal. When -the bell-ringer had been sufficiently drilled, the director once again -took up his baton and ordered a fresh beginning. - -They were playing in good earnest, for this imperious conductor desired -something far above the discordant blasts that are usually obtained from -musical toys. Weeks before he had assigned to each playmate a certain -instrument, teaching him in private to draw real melody from it; and -to-day he had assembled the six performers in his bedroom, introducing -them to the delight of joining together in a familiar musical theme. - -To be sure, the toys were shrill and piping, the players often faulty -and careless, but after an hour's persistent and perspiring labor on the -part of all concerned, the Duke's Military March rang through the house -in creditable time and tune. - -While the music continued with true martial spirit, the door opened -softly, and a plump, fair girl of sixteen peeped into the room. -Perceiving the occupation of the children, she smiled brightly and -slipped away. A moment later another form appeared upon the threshold, -that of an elderly, dignified man. His hair was white, his eyes were -protected by huge gold spectacles, his shoulders were slightly bent; but -a close observer would have readily detected a resemblance between the -handsome old gentleman and the leader of the orchestra. One bore the -markings of age, the other the dimples of childhood; but they plainly -displayed a kindred will, energy, and intelligence, although one was -seventy and the other but seven. - -Mr. Händel was the town surgeon of Halle, appointed by the Duke of -Sächse, and the flaxen-haired boy was the idolized child of his -declining years. - -At first sight of the juvenile orchestra the visitor smiled as -indulgently as had the girl before him, entering the chamber -unobserved, and seating himself in a distant corner where he could watch -the highly interesting performance. But he turned quickly grave when his -eye fell upon the small director, who was bending anxiously forward, his -whole being absorbed in the sounds that issued from the toys at signal -of his cane. The flush that burned the leader's cheek, the intensity of -his glance, and the strained alertness of his lithe young body, seemed a -forbidding vision to the old gentleman, for his face clouded and he -shook his head in increasing disapproval. - -Presently the concert ended, the children scrambled noisily to their -feet, and the conductor leaned upon his cane, regarding them with the -serene composure of a man who has wrought successfully and is modestly -proud of the fact. - -"We must go home, Georg," said Peter, exchanging his bell for his cap. - -"I'm going to run, 'cause I'm so dretful hungry," announced Frieda, -disappearing in quest of curds and seed cakes. - -"You may all go now," consented the director affably, "but," raising a -commanding finger, "we will practise again at seven o'clock to-morrow -morning, and whoever is one minute late won't be invited to my party in -the afternoon." - -"Oh, Georg," wailed Frieda, recalled from the corridor by this edict, -"must I come at seven, whether I've had any breakfast or not?" - -The leader bowed. - -"Whether you have had any breakfast or not," he rejoined firmly. - -The children trooped down the stairs, leaving their chief to gather up -the toys and place them carefully upon the table. - -He was about to leave the room when, for the first time, he discovered -that he was not alone. - -"Father!" he exclaimed, bounding gladly to the old man's side, and -laying one hand affectionately upon his shoulder. "Did you hear us -play? Didn't we do well? If only we had a fiddle we could make much -better music. Oh, father, it is such fun--why--what's the matter, -father? I sharpened your pens and aired your dressing-gown." - -The boy's hilarious comments ceased as he became aware of his father's -darkened expression, and he hastened to allay the doubts that he -supposed to be the cause of this unlooked-for displeasure. - -"I know, Georg, that you sharpened the pens, and I believe you when you -tell me that you aired the dressing-gown, but I shall give you a new -duty to-day. See that you perform it promptly!" - -Georg listened in wonder, for never before had his father addressed him -with such hardness of manner, and instinctively the boy drew a pace -backward. - -"A new--duty?" he stammered. - -"I want you to take those musical toys and throw them into the pond, or -give them to some one who never comes into this house." - -Georg was dumfounded. - -"Throw them away--my trumpet, my fife, my--" - -Breathless with consternation the boy rushed to the table and gathered -his treasures protectingly in his arms. - -"These--I must--keep," he asserted chokingly, eying his father from the -breastworks of drum and bell. - -For answer Mr. Händel pointed to the door, and Georg, reading naught but -doom in that significant gesture, dropped his toys with a crash and -clasped his father's arm beseechingly. - -"Father, don't make me throw them in the pond! Tell me why it is wrong -for me to have them; please, father, tell me!" - -The old gentleman's face expressed both resolution and kindness. - -"Listen, Georg. When I gave you those toys at Christmas time, I expected -you to amuse yourself with them as other children do, in turn with -balls, kites, and sleds. But this you have failed to do, and every -play-hour since that time you have given to these musical toys. Now, -Georg, I mean to give you a thorough education, so that when you are a -man you may become a jurist, capable of following a respectable career -and earning a snug fortune. Ever since you were born I have planned and -saved for this purpose, and I cannot have my arrangements upset by these -silly mouth organs. Tut, tut!" as the boy endeavored to speak, "no -words, my son, over this matter! If I allow you to keep these things and -play with them, day in and day out, as you have been doing, you will -grow into a _musician_, and then where will my jurist be? No, no, it is -not to be thought of. When I came in to-day, you were so deep in the -Duke's March that you did not know that I was near. No, boy, you cannot -have them any longer. I would have taken them away before, had I -realized that you were so set upon them." - -"Please, father--" whispered Georg, quaking, but persistent. - -"You must either throw them away or give them away to-day. You shall -have an hour to decide which you wish to do, and at the end of it, I -shall expect the matter to be settled for all time. Also, Georg, I wish -you to see no more of four of those children who were here to-day. -Frieda and Peter seemed dull enough, but the others were too musical by -far to be fit companions for you. You may tell them that I forbid them -the house from to-day." - -At this stroke of fate, Georg threw himself at full length on the floor, -sobbing tempestuously. His father departed without further parley, and -the boy was left alone to battle with his disappointment. - -As the hour drew to a close, he mastered his emotion as well as he was -able, washed from his face the traces of weeping, and hurried out to -call a meeting of his orchestra by the pond-side. - -He would not confess to his mates that he was grieved with the message -he had for them, but delivered it with an air of mannish bravado. - -"I shan't have an orchestra any more, and I have brought you all of my -instruments. I'll give you each the one you've been using, so you can -play hereafter. You needn't come to-morrow to rehearse, for I can't lead -any longer." - -"No orchestra! You won't lead!" chorused the musicians blankly, as they -received the cherished toys into their hands. - -"Never again," affirmed Georg loftily, but he must needs set his teeth -hard upon his lower lip, lest its trembling should betray his stinging -regret. - -"You see," he explained with the easy patronage of a captain who has led -his troops to victory, but who is about to be promoted out of their -midst, "it is not as though I were to be a musician when I grow up. It -is all well enough for you fellows to play on these things every day, -but I really ought not to waste my time with them, for," importantly, -"when I am a man, I am going to be a jurist." - -"A _what_?" demanded his hearers in one breath, much impressed by the -high-sounding title. - -"A jurist," Georg repeated, folding his arms, much gratified at the -effect his announcement had produced. - -"What does a--a jurist do?" inquired Frieda, feminine curiosity -conquering her awe. - -"Oh," replied Georg easily, "a jurist, Frieda, writes down in a book -everything that people ought to do, and when they don't do just as he -has written, he cuts off their heads." - -"Ach!" - -"Their heads?" - -"You will learn to cut them off?" - -Georg bowed. - -"Now you understand why I must give up the orchestra. If you decide to -keep on without me, perhaps, sometime--" - -He was turning away with a kingly wave of the hand, his last sentence -unfinished, when a question from Peter recalled him to the second and -most distressing part of his mission. - -"You'll have your party to-morrow afternoon? We needn't play on things, -you know." - -The blood mounted to Georg's forehead, and his fingers twitched -uncomfortably; but he managed to speak so boldly that his listeners were -quite unaware of his struggle. - -"I am glad you mentioned the party, Peter, for I had nearly forgotten -it. No, I won't have any party, and I must tell you--at least, father -says--that--that Hans and Otto and Gretchen and Leopold must not come to -my house any more. Of course," he added hastily, seeking to drown the -gasps of his troopers, "it isn't that you're not good enough and nice -enough for me to play with, but father says that you four are very -musical, and you might make me musical too; but Frieda and Peter can -come, for they are dull." - -"I hate your old tunes and notes, anyway," protested Peter, much -injured; but Frieda cut him short with the excited proposal,-- - -"Let's have your party for Peter and me and you, to-morrow!" - -"_Have_ your party! _Have_ your party!" sneered Otto; and Hans informed -Georg in biting tones that he wouldn't forget this when his birthday -came next month. - -Here Georg visibly weakened, for he remembered that Hans was expecting -either a violin or a flute upon that occasion, and he nearly lost his -studied indifference with the recollection. He was obliged to face -about, to hide the sudden teardrops that glistened on his cheeks; and, -marching proudly toward his father's pasture, with head high in air, and -back steadily kept toward his forsaken band, he called out,-- - -"I'm not mad at you, but you can be mad at me if you like. I won't have -a party to-morrow for Frieda and Peter, 'cause I like Hans and Otto -better than I do them, 'cause they know how to keep time when I beat." - -He had reached the pasture with the last word of parting, and flinging -himself over the bars, he fled across the green as though twenty scouts -of the enemy were close upon his heels. The mask that he had worn to -conceal his heartburning had fallen, and he was crying bitterly as he -ran. - -Old Kappelstahr, Georg's special pet since the days when she was a -sportive calf, stood mildly chewing her cud near the inner fence. As her -master dashed among the kine in evident agitation, the heifer turned to -look after him, apparently surprised that he had passed her by without a -word of greeting. - -Georg, glancing backward, happened to catch that look of gentle -interest. He halted irresolutely, then, rushing to her side and throwing -his arms about her neck, the dejected jurist sobbed out his woe upon her -warm brown shoulder. - -During the succeeding days and weeks, Georg felt as lonely as a -shipwrecked mariner cast upon a deserted island of the sea. -Instinctively, when lessons were done, he reached out for amusement to -the musical toys that were his no longer. Sometimes he heard sounds -arising from the pond-side, where his forbidden orchestra rehearsed -under Otto's direction. That he might neither make music nor mingle with -those who did, filled him with blank dismay; and hour by hour he -wandered about the house and garden, unable to attach himself to other -interests or games. His father required him to make an industrious use -of his school hours, even adding to the regular course certain studies -that he deemed useful to one preparing for a serious profession. - -The old gentleman was sorry indeed when he saw how the absence of the -musical toys and companions affected Georg, and he even sought to modify -the discipline by presenting to the boy a complete set of carpenter's -tools. - -Georg thanked him for the gift, but what was the old gentleman's -surprise, a week later, upon seeing the chest in his son's room, still -unopened, with every tool in place, and across the wooden lid a series -of black and white keys painted, in imitation of a harpsichord. - -Mr. Händel frowned, but made no reference to the matter before Georg. - -Mrs. Händel believed that her husband was right at all times, and would -not have reversed his decision regarding the musical affair, if she -could; but her sister Anna, the plump fair girl who had peeped in upon -the last rehearsal of the orchestra in Georg's room, sympathized warmly -with the boy, and sought to console him in every way possible. - -Anna was barely sixteen, herself scarcely more than a child, blue-eyed, -yellow-haired, and a member of the Händel household. Her sweet temper -and merry heart had long before won Georg's devotion, and in his present -trial no one was admitted to his confidence but this youthful aunt. - -Never a word of disrespect or rebellion did Anna utter against Mr. -Händel, for she believed implicitly in a child's obedience to his -parents; but, being of a musical temperament herself, she entered into -the boy's trouble as though she, too, were under the ban. In a certain -sense she was, there being no musical instrument in the house, and often -she felt stirred by the same impulse that wrought so constantly upon her -nephew. - -"Never mind, Georg," she would say, "let Hans and Frieda have the mouth -organ and the drum. Just you attend to your school, and when your father -sees that you mean to study hard and carry out his wishes, he will give -them back to you." - -But weeks dragged wearily by, and, despite Georg's diligence at school, -Mr. Händel did not relent. Frieda and Peter came occasionally, but they -had never been Georg's chosen comrades, and he joined their games -mechanically, plainly relieved when they took their departure. He longed -unceasingly for Otto, who was clever with the trumpet, and for Hans, who -was now the possessor of a violin. - -He became restless and dissatisfied, and his mother despaired of a child -who went about with such a sober face. - -He never gave voice to the discontent that surged in his breast, for -parental authority was strict in the Händel household, and he would have -been sharply punished for outspoken protest. But he did not recover from -his disappointment, as his father had so reasonably expected; a slight -paleness crept over his plump cheeks, his lively spirit was tinged with -melancholy, and from his compressed lips was seldom heard his former -ringing laugh. - -Every one in the house noticed the change, but all except Anna thought -the mood would presently pass away if properly ignored, and no mention -was made in his hearing of the subject that lay nearest his heart. The -girl, however, realized that Georg was seriously unhappy, and right -heartily did she try to divert him from his consuming desire. - -One November afternoon, as Georg sat studying before the sitting-room -fire with his mother, who had fallen asleep over her knitting, his -attention was attracted by a pebble being thrown against the window. -Raising his eyes, he beheld his aunt beckoning to him from the garden. -Down went the book and out went the boy. - -"What is it, Aunt Anna?" - -For answer, the girl caught him about the neck and whirled him madly up -and down the gravelled path. - -"It's a secret, Georg, the best and biggest secret in the whole world. -Nobody is to know it but you and me, and it is so lovely that I can't -keep from spinning like a top!" - -"Wait! Stop! Let loose!" and the boy broke from her clasp, -half-strangled by the joyful energy of her arm. "What is the secret? -Hurry and tell!" - -The girl stood smiling and speechless, unable to find words to frame her -tidings. Then glancing about to assure herself that no one was near, she -bent quickly and whispered,-- - -"You remember, Georg, that poor Granny Wegler died last week. Well, her -daughter, Mrs. Friesland, who came from Munich to take care of her, -called here to-day to tell me--what do you suppose?" - -"I don't know." - -"She said that she had found a note written by Granny, saying that when -she died, she wanted to leave her _clavichord_ to me. Just think of it, -Georg, I am to have that dear, beautiful little clavichord that stood in -Granny's parlor, and you and I can play on it whenever we please!" - -Georg's face went from red to white and back to red again with this -stupendous news. Afraid that a shout would serve to recall him to house -and book, he sought to express his delight by rolling over and over in -the crackling brown grass and pulling up the dead blades by handfuls. - -Suddenly, however, he ceased his tumbling about, and sat up, his hair -filled with bits of leaves and grass. - -"Ought I to play on it, Aunt Anna? Will father care?" - -Georg's voice shook with apprehension, but the girl hastened to reassure -him. - -"When your father made you give away the toys, he never said a word -about clavichords. It can't be wrong to play on it when you never have -been forbidden." - -Anna's idea of obedience was very strict, and in the present case she -was wholly sincere, never doubting for an instant that they were about -to proceed in the straight path of duty. - -"Oh, no," murmured the boy, much relieved, "he didn't mention -clavichords, I'm sure." - -"Now this is to be a secret of yours and mine, and while the others are -gone to the Kirmess to-morrow, I shall have the darling brought over and -carried up to the garret." - -"Ho, ho! Hurrah for our secret! Hurrah! hurrah!" - -When, next day, Georg saw the clavichord borne to the shadowy chamber -under the eaves and set up in all its thrilling reality against the warm -brick chimney, he pressed both hands over his mouth in the fear that his -cries of exultation might reach his father's ears in town. - -When the carriers were gone, he approached the instrument timidly, and -only after Anna had played several tunes, could he be induced to touch -its yellowed keys. But when he had once overcome the awe that filled -him at sight of his heart's desire, he clung to it as a thing of life, -passing every hour thereafter that he could snatch from his school -studies, in the company of this glorious toy. In the beginning, Anna -taught him the few rudiments of musical art that lay within her ken, but -before many weeks had passed, the pupil turned teacher, so far -outstripping his aunt that he was able to give her many helpful -suggestions. - -That Georg speedily recovered his vaulting spirits, every one remarked; -but none guessed the reason. The good surgeon supposed that the boy's -regret for his lost playthings and companions was forgotten, and he -smiled to see his son as noisy and mischief-loving as before the -September episode. - -The conspirators were for a time in terror of discovery, but the tones -of the clavichord were so thin and muffled that their tinkling would -never disturb a drowsy garret mouse, much less penetrate the oaken -floors to the chambers under foot. No one but Georg's mother ever -visited the attic region, and during this important season, she chanced -to be afflicted with acute rheumatic pain that prevented her climbing -the steep stair leading to the treasure-house. - -The winter was a long one and cold, but Anna and Georg, in their high -retreat, were as happy and comfortable as meadow-larks. Trunks, chests, -old clothing, and discarded furniture abounded there; bunches of dried -herbs were strung to the cross-beams, and cobwebs draped the outlying -nooks; but the great chimney emitted a cosy warmth, and the clavichord -provided unceasing entertainment. - -[Illustration: "The clavichord provided unceasing entertainment."] - -As time went by, Anna's interest waned considerably, owing to the -succeeding preparations of Christmas gifts, March birthday festivities, -and spring finery; but when months had rolled away and summer suns were -once more ripening the fruit and coloring the flowers, Georg was as -intently absorbed in the clavichord as on the day of its first -appearance. - -One June morning he was starting for a day's visit with some cousins who -lived on the most fashionable street in Halle. He was attired for the -occasion in his best suit of shining black satin. A deep collar of -Mechlin lace, a pair of gleaming silver shoe-buckles, and a silver cord -wound around his broad black beaver filled him with satisfaction as he -emerged from the house door. - -At this juncture Mr. Händel drove into the gravelled plaza lying between -stable and street, and Georg observed with surprise that the carriage -was festooned with yellow streamers, that Mummer, the staid mare, was -groomed until she shone, and tricked out in the yellow harness and -tassels reserved for state occasions. - -"Where are you going, father?" called Georg. - -"To Weisenfels. The duke sent for me this morning. He wishes a report -of the state of health in Halle." - -"Oh, father, please take me with you! I've never seen the court, and I -want to go so much!" - -"Not this time, Georg. I have business to attend to, and I cannot look -after you." - -"You needn't look after me," insisted the lad, laying his hand upon the -door of the slowly moving vehicle. "I'll be good and do everything you -say, and Christian will take care of me. Please, father, take me!" - -"No, no! Some other time I'll take you, but this time I shall be too -busy. Get up, Mummer!" - -With the touch of the whip, the ancient mare broke into a gentle -dogtrot, the only gait more swift than a walk in which she ever -indulged. - -Georg saw the carriage roll through the gates and take the road toward -Weisenfels. - -To go to the duke's court was something that he had long desired, and -this seemed a wholly favorable time for the undertaking. Had his -father's denial been decisive, Georg would have accepted it with the -best grace he could muster, and gone on about his visit; but he had seen -that the surgeon was merely preoccupied, refusing the petition absently -in order that his reflections should not be disturbed, rather than that -he cared to forbid the journey. - -"If he only knew how much I wanted to go, he would have said 'yes,'" -thought Georg. "Father nearly always lets me do things when I ask him. -He really didn't hear what I said,--didn't hear inside him, I mean,--or -he would have taken me. I'll go! I'll go anyway, and when I get there -father will be sure to let me stay." - -Fired with this determination, Georg set off, running nimbly behind the -carriage, taking pains all the while to keep out of the surgeon's sight. - -Although Mummer was not very fleet as horses go, she jogged steadily -along, and the boy, following close behind the carriage, began to wonder -why she never stopped to catch her breath and cool herself. Up and down -hill, over bridges, through strips of forest, went horse, carriage, and -boy; and, as the sun blazed down, and the road grew dusty to choking, -the last one of the procession became so hot and breathless that he -feared he must stop or die. - -At twelve o'clock the carriage drew up before a roadside inn; and when -the hostler came to take charge of Mummer, Mr. Händel opened the door -and stepped out upon the flower-bordered driveway. - -The flash of a silver hat-cord seemed to twinkle before his eyes, and -seized with a sharp suspicion, the old gentleman strode quickly round to -the back of the carriage only to see a pair of small black legs -disappearing under the vehicle. - -"Georg!" he ejaculated. "Come out, instantly! What are you doing here?" - -A dusty, sheepish boy crawled slowly into sight, murmuring confusedly as -he rose,-- - -"I knew you'd let me go if you thought about it, so I came--" - -Dizzy from heat and fatigue, Georg clutched the wheel to keep himself -from falling; and the surgeon took him anxiously by the shoulder. - -"You foolish boy! What possessed you to undertake such a tramp! I didn't -care particularly if you came. Here, let's go into the inn and get -dinner! You will feel better when you have had warm food and time to -rest. I'll send a messenger back to your mother, so she will know that -you have come with me. You foolish child!" - -The evening was spent in the ducal palace, whither the surgeon had been -summoned with his professional report; and the novel sights and sounds -proved so exciting to Georg that long after he was tucked into his cot -he lay wide awake, thinking of all that he had enjoyed. When sleep did -finally overtake him, he dreamed of the gayly uniformed guards stationed -inside and outside the palace, of the massive corridors, rich with works -of art, and the vast assembly room where the duke had held an audience, -while he himself had looked down from an upper gallery upon the throngs -of men and women, the flowers, the banners, and listened to the music -wafted from the musicians' balcony opposite. - -Christian Händel, a nephew of Georg's, although more than twice the -boy's age, was a member of the duke's train, and he had piloted the -small visitor about the place, pointing out to him the things that would -prove of especial interest. He had likewise introduced his young -relative to the musicians, and they, attracted by the boy's -straightforward manner and intelligent replies, cordially received him -among them. - -Morning came before Georg realized that he had been asleep, and with -it, Christian, who shook him awake. - -"Dress yourself quickly, Georg, for the duke goes to church this -morning, and when he attends, nobody else in the house is permitted to -stay away." - -Christian conducted Georg to the organ-loft, that he might better see -the sumptuous chapel and the duke with his richly apparelled retinue -passing in for service. - -The white-haired organist, whom Georg had met the night before, greeted -him pleasantly; and Christian left him in care of the aged musician, -while he hurried down to take his place among the crimson-clad -retainers. - -When, an hour later, the duke sat in his apartment at breakfast, the -sound of the organ fell upon his ear. Himself a passionate lover of -music, he could readily distinguish the touch of the various players at -court; but this soft and unfamiliar strain caused him to bend forward -with a puzzled look. Gradually the music grew more distinct, and soon -the palace resounded with a strong and stately melody. - -"Who is at the organ?" the duke demanded suddenly, glancing inquiringly -at one of his attendants. - -"It is the little Händel from Halle, your grace," replied Christian. - -"A relative of yours?" - -The young man blushed, for he was unwilling to confess to an -eight-year-old uncle; but he told the truth and satisfied his pride by -explaining distinctly,-- - -"He is my grandfather's youngest son." - -"Bring him hither, and his father also." - -Christian disappeared, and presently Mr. Händel entered by one door, -just before his son and grandson appeared on the threshold of the other. - -The duke motioned the old gentleman to a distant corner, and beckoned -the boy to approach. - -Georg, bereft of Christian's support, and unaware of his father's -presence, became so frightened that his breath almost failed as he -advanced, and he wondered wildly if the trembling of his knees could be -detected by the company. He carried his black beaver on his arm, as he -had seen the courtiers do, and when he came within a few feet of the -ducal chair, he bowed with a curious little bob that set the whole room -laughing. - -"Silence!" commanded the duke sternly; then turning, he kindly asked his -small auditor what his name might be. - -"Georg Friedrich Händel," replied the boy tremulously, but with the -sound of his own voice his terror dissolved, and he stood before the -Duke of Sächse with respectful composure. - -"When did you learn to play the organ, my manikin?" - -"This morning, your grace." - -"This morning!" echoed the duke, astounded. "Can it be true that you -have never tried the instrument before to-day?" - -"Well, you see, we have no organ at home," returned Georg -apologetically. - -The duke studied him for a moment, as though seeking for traces of -falsehood, but Georg's utter simplicity was strangely convincing. - -Quietly the duke put his next question. - -"Upon what instruments _have_ you played before?" - -"Last winter and this summer I have played every day on my aunt's -clavichord, your grace." - -Here a loud gasp was heard from a distant corner, but the duke frowned -for silence. - -"And what before the clavichord, my boy?" - -"A mouth organ, a tin trumpet, a fife, a drum, and a dinner-bell, your -grace." - -A dozen irrepressible titters burst from the attendants, but the duke -grew very grave. - -"And that is all, lad?" - -"All, your grace." - -"No lessons?" - -"No--except when Aunt Anna and I taught each other. But you mustn't -tell father about the clavichord, your grace, because it is a secret, -and father told me to give away my own instruments, and Aunt Anna -wouldn't like to give away her clavichord, so please don't let him know -about it." - -"I am afraid that he knows already," said the duke, smiling; and at his -signal, the Halle surgeon emerged from his corner, pale with amazement. - -Georg was so confounded at sight of his parent, that, unable to meet his -expected look of condemnation, he buried his face in the folds of the -duke's breakfast cloth. - -"I am sorry, Mr. Händel," said the duke, "that I betrayed the child's -secret. Had I known there was anything confidential in the interview, I -should have held it in private. But now that the mischief is done, will -you tell me why you oppose the musical study that Georg desires?" - -"Merely, your grace, because he neglects his school for music when I -allow it. I am a music-lover myself, but I wish to educate my son for a -jurist, and I cannot have the plan interfered with, even by music." - -"Let me suggest, then, that you allow the music lessons and compel the -school lessons, taking away the instrument if he fails at school; and -when he is old enough and wise enough to be a jurist, he will be capable -of choosing for himself the work of his life." - -"I thank you, your grace! The advice is fair and judicious, and I shall -be happy to act upon it. If I have made a mistake, it was out of concern -for the child's best good, your grace." - -"An error on the safe side, Mr. Händel. A-ha, my small minstrel, do you -hear how your father and I have arranged matters?" - -Georg had not fully understood the conversation, but he gathered that -the duke had somehow persuaded the surgeon to allow his little son to -play upon the clavichord as much as he wished, if he were faithful at -school. - -"Does the prospect please you?" asked the duke, his eyes twinkling. - -"It does, it does!" cried Georg, his face radiant. "I am obliged to your -grace, and I am sure that you are almost as good and fine a person as my -Aunt Anna." - - -One night, in London, a concert was given at a certain music-hall, and -the money earned from the sale of tickets was to be used to relieve the -poor children of the city. - -Such a throng of people crowded into the hall that every seat was -promptly filled, and the door-keepers were obliged to turn away many who -desired to attend. - -King George II. appeared in the royal box, and when he had been -respectfully saluted by the people, the hall grew still. The stage was -filled with singers, and soon the room resounded with the thrilling -notes of a new piece called "The Messiah." - -The people had expected to be only pleasantly entertained, but as one -strain followed another, they bent forward entranced. Such harmonies -they had never listened to before, and the people in the hall were moved -to the point of tears. At length the sounds grew so impressive that the -king could contain himself no longer, but leaped to his feet. Instantly -the people, following the lead of their sovereign, rose impulsively in -their places, and so standing, they waited until the glorious chorus was -ended. - -Throughout the performance, a fine old gentleman sat quietly on the -stage near the singers, listening intently. His face wore a look of -noble earnestness, and he did not smile until the last note died away, -and from every part of the house voices cried,-- - -"Händel! Händel!" - -For a moment he did not respond to their calls, but as the hall fell -into a tumult, and the shout increased to a deafening roar, the -white-haired gentleman rose and quietly bowed. - -This did not satisfy the crowd, and from above, below, from right and -from left, excited men and women demanded that he should play for them. - -The old gentleman bowed again, but finding that the audience would not -depart until he had yielded to its desire, he turned toward the massive -organ at his right. - -Before he had taken a step, one of the singers hurried to his side, laid -a hand upon his arm, and conducted him slowly to the organ-bench. Then -it was that any stranger would have learned what all London -understood,--that the courtly old gentleman was blind. - -At the first rich chord from the organ, a hush fell upon the room, and -when the silvery-haired musician finished, and rose to his feet with -another stately bow, the people silently filed out, too stirred by the -grandeur of his music for ordinary speech. - -That night, in the city of London, hundreds of suffering and friendless -children were gathered into places of refuge, and were fed, warmed, and -clothed with the money earned by the genius and loving-kindness of Georg -Friedrich Händel. - - - - -SIX HUNDRED PLUS ONE - -[COLERIDGE] - - -Up to London, one May morning, came Samuel Coleridge, and as the coach -rattled over the pavements, and the roar and tumult of the city filled -his ears, the boy clutched his uncle's arm with delight. Never before in -all his ten years had he journeyed beyond the quaint country village -where he was born, and the dun clouds of city smoke caused him to look -expectantly about for rain. - -His uncle laughed and patted the boy's arm good-naturedly. "Never mind," -he said; "these crowded streets will soon become as homelike to you as -one of your Devonshire fields." - -Mr. Bowdon was right, and at the end of a week Samuel could go alone -about the quarter of the city where his uncle resided, and his ears grew -so accustomed to the mighty din that he quite forgot there was any -noise to hear. - -Samuel was the youngest of thirteen children. His mother was a widow, -and gradually she had become too poor to provide food and shelter for so -great a family. To be sure, the oldest brothers and sisters aided her as -best they could, but times were hard, money was scarce at best, and when -Uncle Bowdon proposed to undertake the care and education of Samuel his -offer was thankfully accepted. It was planned that the boy should visit -at his uncle's house for several weeks, and that later in the summer he -should enter the famous charity school known as Christ's Hospital. Many -families sought to send their sons to this school, but only those pupils -were admitted who were too poor to pay for their education. - -Samuel was tall for his age, and very dark. He was attractive without -being handsome, for his striking look of intelligence, his slight, -straight figure and ready laughter, earned for him the frankest -approval of friends and strangers too. - -Mr. Bowdon was exceedingly proud of him, and often took him to his club, -that his friends might become acquainted with his young guest. Also Mr. -Bowdon planned frequent excursions about the city, so that his nephew -might enjoy the notable sights of London. These were indeed gala days -for Samuel, and when the time came for him to go to school he could -scarcely believe that ten weeks had flown since he had come up by the -coach from his country home. It is doubtful whether Mr. Bowdon would -have been willing to part with the lad even after so long a visit, but -his business just at this time compelled him to take a long journey to -the East Indies, and he desired to see the boy safely established before -departing from London. - -Accordingly, one fine July afternoon, uncle and nephew arrived at the -great school in Newgate Street, through whose high iron gate they were -admitted by a boy wearing a queer costume of blue and yellow. Samuel -had no eyes for the stately buildings grouped about the enclosure, for -across the shaded central grass-plot marched a veritable army of boys, -walking four abreast with military precision. Like the page at the gate, -they wore long blue coats reaching nearly to the ankle and trimly -girdled with red, bright yellow stockings, low buckled shoes and -neckbands of snowy whiteness. Oddly enough, their heads were bare, and -Samuel supposed that they had left their caps behind, though he learned -later that the "king's boys," as these were called, never wore head -coverings of any description, but went serenely abroad in all weathers, -guiltless of beaver, helmet, or turban. - -On they came, more boys and more boys, until Samuel grew fairly dizzy -with watching the steadily moving column. - -"What is the occasion?" inquired Mr. Bowdon of the gatekeeper. - -"The lord mayor is visiting the school to-day, sir, and the scholars -are going now to hear his address." - -When the gayly apparelled procession had gone in, the steward of the -school, a young man in russet gown, came to greet the strangers and to -show them about the place. He conducted them through the twelve -dormitories, where rows of narrow white beds stood side by side down -either wall; to the dining-hall with its long tables, where all the -students sat down at once; and to the office of the registrar, a -spectacled old gentleman, who took down a great book and gravely wrote -upon one of its yellowish pages,-- - -"Samuel Taylor Coleridge, aged ten; born at Ottery St. Mary, Devonshire, -October, 1772. Regularly entered at Christ's Hospital, July 18, 1782." - -Then Mr. Bowdon took his departure, for he was to leave the city at -nightfall. Samuel accompanied him to the gate, where he received his -uncle's affectionate farewells, then peering wistfully through the iron -palings, he watched the portly figure move slowly down Newgate Street, -until it was lost to view in the passing crowds. - -With the last glimpse of Mr. Bowdon, Samuel was seized with a sudden -panic of fear and loneliness, for never before had he been out of the -sight of kindred faces, nor out of the sound of kindred voices. Even the -page had left the gate, and Samuel clung to the palings in strange -dismay. His attention was arrested by the doors of the lecture-hall -being thrown open and the blue and yellow procession reappearing, headed -by the lord mayor of London and a company of white-wigged, black-gowned -masters and tutors. The gate swung back, the lord mayor received a -military salute from the boys, and passed out to his waiting carriage, -and at sound of a clanging bell the procession turned and wound its way -to the dining-hall, leaving the campus deserted except for the presence -of one young stranger. - -"I wonder if I am to go in, or if I am to have any supper at all," -queried the boy, looking anxiously about, as he suddenly awakened to the -fact that he was fearfully hungry. "Nobody knows that I am here but the -steward and the old man with the book." - -His doubts were relieved by the appearance of the brown-robed steward, -who beckoned to him from the entrance of the dining-hall. - -Samuel sped to his side, and was ushered into the vast apartment where -the pupils sat at dinner. Quiet reigned here, broken only by a subdued -conversation at the masters' table, and the voice of a tutor who from a -desk at the upper end of the room read a Latin oration for the -entertainment of those present. - -Samuel was conducted to a vacant seat at one of the long tables, where a -wooden bowl of soup and a slice of bread awaited him. These he quickly -despatched, and turning to the boy on his right, was about to inquire -modestly how he should get a fresh supply, when his neighbor hastily -pressed his finger to his lips, as a sign that speech was forbidden. -Samuel was surprised at this injunction, especially as he was still -hungry, and glancing about the board, he discovered that every other -bowl was as empty as his own, and that no single crumb of bread was to -be seen. - -No one addressed him, but he was aware that numerous pairs of eyes were -fixed curiously upon him. He shrank from this open scrutiny, although -the boys at his table were all near his own age; and reddening, he gazed -persistently at his bowl. - -"Ss--ss!" came in a soft hiss from a lad across the table. - -"Ss--ss! Ss--ss!" cautiously echoed a dozen others. - -Samuel wriggled uncomfortably in his chair, but to his surprise, his -neighbor on the right reached over and grasped his knee with friendly -force. Samuel instantly responded by seizing the stranger's knee, and, -fortified by this unlooked-for support, threw back his head and eyed in -turn each lad at the table. There was something in his fearless glance -that caused the hisses quickly to subside; and when the bell rang, and -the students trooped out, no word of challenge was offered to him. -Moreover, no other kind of words came either, for it was the hour of -recreation, and the boys swarmed the campus, shouting, whistling, -singing, and engaging in various athletic games. The most popular sports -seemed to be leap-frog and basting-the-bear, for groups everywhere were -indulging in these rollicking pastimes. - -Samuel stood alone watching, for even his neighbor at table had joined -the merry-makers. He decided that if he wished to become one of them he -must make a bold move; so, marching up to one of the leap-frog -companies, he ventured to enter the game. The effort was quickly foiled, -however, for one pupil seized him by the leg, another by the hair, -while twenty voices shouted at once,-- - -"Clear out! Don't you know you can't play with us till you get your blue -coat?" - -Samuel retired, much crestfallen, wondering when he should be promoted -to the prevailing uniform. He wandered up and down the schoolyard, -watching here, watching there, hearing never a word of greeting, nor -meeting with a friendly nod or smile. At length he came upon an outer -stairway, which seemed to lead somewhere, and climbing it, more with the -desire to get away from the hordes of strangers than to explore the -premises, he came out upon a flat, leaded roof. Resting his folded arms -upon the parapet, he stood gazing at the evening sky, solitary and sad. -Up to him came the shouts of the students and the roar of the city's -noises, and for the first time since he had come to London, his heart -turned back with a mighty longing to the fields, the river, and the -simple folk of his native village. If only he might hear the lapping of -the water and the tinkling of the sheep bells, he would give all that he -possessed in the world. He thought of his mother and of his big brother -Luke, and the vision of their faces came before him with such startling -plainness that he set his teeth and clenched his hands to stem the tide -of homesickness that surged over him. - -At sound of the deep-toned bell, he hurried down the stair, suspecting -that the slender supper was about to be supplemented by a tea or -luncheon of some sort; but he was mistaken, for, although the western -sky was still ablaze, the boys were filing toward the dormitories. - -"This way, Coleridge," called the steward, appearing on the green. - -"Where are they going?" inquired Samuel. - -"To bed," rejoined the other briefly. - -"To bed!" ejaculated Samuel; "why, it's only seven o'clock!" - -"Seven is the hour for bed at this school," explained the other -shortly, and Samuel gathered from his tone that further comment would be -unacceptable. - -Awakened next morning by the signal bell, Samuel sat up in his narrow -cot and blinked sleepily. Across his bed was thrown a complete uniform -such as the other boys wore, and springing up, he gladly donned the -costume, and marched down with the others. - -At breakfast he sat in the same seat he had occupied last night, and his -right-hand neighbor greeted him with a cordial pinch on the arm. - -The meal this morning consisted of a quarter-of-a-penny-loaf, on a -wooden plate, and a small leathern cup of beer. Samuel was accustomed to -rich country milk, fruit, and vegetables; but with yesterday's hunger -still unappeased, he could not afford to be fastidious. In a twinkling -the bread and beer had disappeared, and he was unconsciously glancing -about in search of some one who would serve him with more, when he -chanced to notice that every plate and cup at the table was swept -clean, and that the lads were shifting about in their chairs as though -anxious to be dismissed. Then it was that Samuel realized with a curious -pang that plates were never refilled at Christ's Hospital, and that the -allowance was always distressingly small. Almost as hungry as when he -had sat down, he rose with the others and passed outside. - -He was about to speak to his table neighbor, when that young person -suddenly set off for the high iron palings. Without stood a half-grown -girl, holding a little basket on her arm, and when the boy came up with -her, she took something from the tiny hamper, and passed it through the -fence. That the gift was in the nature of food of some sort, Samuel -discovered from the alacrity with which the boy proceeded to devour it; -and the lad from Devonshire stood watching the operation with the -strangest of gnawing sensations inside him. Other boys looked greedily -at this spectacle, but went about their affairs as though the sight -were a familiar one; and Samuel, following their example, was turning -mechanically away when a beckoning gesture from the lad at the fence -called him thither. - -"Here, I like you, and I'll give you a bit. Come on!" - -Before Samuel had time to accept or decline, the stranger had crowded -into his hand a hot roll, and was all but pouring a small can of tea -down his throat. - -"Thank you--it's fine," gurgled Samuel, "but I don't want to take the -things you ought to have." - -"I can spare some. You see I'm ashamed to have this stuff brought to me -when the other boys can't get any, but when it comes, I'm so starved I -eat it anyway. My sister brings a little breakfast over every day, for -our house isn't very far away, and it helps out, I can tell you. Here's -another piece of crust. Eat it, quick, for I know you want it." - -Samuel accepted the proffered fragments gladly, frankly confessing that -he had not felt quite satisfied at breakfast. - -"Oh, we never have enough here," remarked the other calmly. "Wednesdays -are the best, for then they give us meat stew; but that happens only one -day in seven." - -While Samuel swallowed the pleasing morsels, he keenly examined the face -of his generous host. The strange boy was apparently a year or two -younger than himself, slightly Jewish in appearance, and very handsome. -He was frail-looking, with curling black hair, bright dark eyes, and -sensitive lips. His expression was thoughtful, and something in his -impulsive manner had attracted Samuel from the beginning. - -"What's your name?" demanded the younger lad, when Samuel had finished -his unexpected breakfast. - -"Samuel Taylor Coleridge. What's yours?" - -"Charles Lamb; and this is my sister Mary." - -The girl smiled prettily, and waving her basket as she turned to go, -called back, "You must come to see us some time with Charles." - -Samuel thanked her and promised; and as the bell rang, summoning the -pupils to lessons, he inquired,-- - -"How many boys are there here?" - -"Six hundred." - -"Plus one, now I've come." - -"I like you," declared Charles again, linking his arm with that of the -new boy, as they fell into line. - -"I like you, too," responded the other warmly; and so began a friendship -that grew stronger with each succeeding day. - -Samuel was speedily installed in school work, and having been a -book-lover from the age of three, he was placed in a class of boys who -were generally older than himself. With these he made friends at once, -for his originality, both in work and play, won the admiration of the -lads. With the teachers, too, Samuel fared better than most, for while -James Bowyer was not a man to be trifled with, having always a birch -twig within reach for the correction of young offenders, his wrath -seldom descended upon pupils so apt as Samuel. - -"But," cautioned Charles, "look out for Jemmy Bowyer when he wears his -passy wig!" He meant _passionate_, for on some occasions the head master -appeared in the school-room with his smooth and carefully powdered wig -replaced by an old, unkempt, and discolored one, and woe to the pupil -who failed in his lessons or otherwise displeased him while thus -decorated! His head-dress was the barometer that warned the boys of his -moods, and they modelled their conduct accordingly. - -Mr. Bowyer was a conscientious teacher, who desired to give the lads -most thorough and careful instruction, and the boys who studied -earnestly were safe from the touch of his rod except on the days when -he wore the "passy wig." Then his temper was most uncertain, and worker -and laggard alike were frequently brought to judgment. - -At the end of a week, Samuel felt as though he had been a member of -Christ's Hospital for a long, long time. Each day was spent like every -other day, and he soon found himself going through the routine of study, -recitation, play, and sleep as familiarly as the oldest student there. - -On Saturday morning Charles said,-- - -"This is our weekly holiday, you know. Where will you go?" - -"Nowhere, I suppose," replied Samuel. "My uncle has left town, and I -don't know anybody else in London, so I think I'll have to stay here." - -"You can't do that." - -"Why not?" - -"Because nobody is allowed to stay inside the grounds on leave-days. We -are all turned out as soon as breakfast is over, the gates are locked, -and we can't come in again until evening." - -"But surely they won't send us out who have no friends in London!" - -"Oh, yes, they will. But come along, and we'll spend the day together -somewhere. I'm not going home this time, because my people are away at -work." - -At eight o'clock six hundred boys filed into Newgate Street and -scattered in all directions. For those whose parents resided in town, -this weekly holiday was always most welcome; but to the boys who had -neither kindred nor friends within reach, the enforced leave-day was -often a difficult one. - -To-day Samuel and Charles walked about the streets for a time, then made -their way to the bank of the New River. Here, to Samuel's delight, green -fields stretched before them, birds twittered in the trees, and sleek -cows browsed along the shore. - -"Oh, oh!" he exclaimed, "this is almost as good as the real country." - -With one accord the boys snatched off their garments and plunged into -the stream. Both were good swimmers, and they splashed about, diving, -floating, and showing their skill in various ways, until they grew -tired. Ascending the bank, they dressed quickly and wandered farther up -the stream. For a while they threw stones into the current, watching the -eddies widen from each pebble that sank into the water; and after a time -they lounged against a convenient tree, Samuel relating stories that he -had read of ancient heroes, and Charles eagerly listening. - -"I wonder what time it is," hinted the latter at length. - -"Not much past noon," replied Samuel, glancing at the sun with the -experienced eye of the country-bred. - -"Wouldn't it be fine if we were cows, with a whole field-full of dinner -spread before us," murmured Charles, gazing at the Alderneys beyond. - -"And see how fat that bird is! He must eat four or five meals every -day!" exclaimed Samuel; then hastening to turn the conversation to -topics less vital, he asked genially,-- - -"What things do you like best in the world?" - -"Let me see," mused Charles; "yes, I know very well. I like money, -vegetables, and my sister Mary. What do you?" - -"Homes, churches, trees, and old people's faces," returned Samuel -promptly. "What shall we do now,--go back into town?" - -"Not yet, for if we do, we must keep on walking for four or five hours." - -"Let's go swimming again, then." - -"I'm with you," and a minute later they descended into the river for the -second time. - -Both were almost as much at home in water as on land, and they swam -about, teaching one another aquatic tricks until they became quite -breathless. Making for the shore, they climbed weakly up the bank, and -only partially robing, dropped side by side upon the sward. - -Overcome by fatigue, Charles fell asleep, while Samuel lay panting and -composing verses about the Seven Champions of Christendom. - -Finally they rose, languid and drooping, and trudged back to the school -in Newgate Street, sorry that their holiday was done, but thankful for -the supper, however meagre, that would presently be served to them. - -As the weeks passed by and summer slowly gave place to autumn, Samuel -made rapid progress in his classes. He studied almost constantly, not -that he meant to be especially dutiful, but because he loved printed -pages better than any other company. He was born with a thirst for -books, which made him con his lessons eagerly in the absence of other -and more entertaining volumes; and at Christ's Hospital the boys had no -access to books of any kind besides the text-books used in their regular -courses. - -With no fresh stories, histories, or poems to feed his ravenous young -mind, Samuel was obliged to dwell upon the tales and truths he had read -before coming to London. He soon became known among the students as a -capital storyteller, and often he would be found seated tailor-fashion -in a remote corner of the playground, surrounded by a dozen choice -spirits who listened open-eyed and open-mouthed to his dramatic -recitals. - -One Saturday in November he was walking down the Strand. Charles had -gone to spend this leave-day with his parents, and Samuel was tramping -about the streets alone. His thoughts were busy with his favorite hero, -Leander, and so absorbed did he become in the story that he entirely -forgot the presence of the crowds in the busy thoroughfare. Reviewing -the stirring scene when Leander swims the Hellespont to visit the -priestess, on the opposite shore, Samuel unconsciously threw out both -arms as though buffeting the waves, and one hand smartly rapped the coat -tails of a respectable gentleman walking immediately before him. - -Samuel started in confusion at being brought back so suddenly from -Grecian clouds to London pavements, and offered a stammering apology; -but the citizen wheeled abruptly, grasped his arm, and frowned down upon -him with mingled horror and distaste. - -"What! So young and so wicked! Who could believe that a stripling like -you would attempt to pick my pocket in broad daylight! Mm--mm!" - -"You're mistaken, you're mistaken, indeed you are," protested Samuel; "I -was thinking about Leander crossing the Hellespont, and I must have been -swimming too. I didn't even see you, sir, truly I didn't." - -"Leander! Well, my young gentleman, what do you know about Leander?" - -Samuel explained that he had read and re-read all the mythical tales of -Greece, and that he often thought them over for amusement. - -The stranger's expression softened. - -"You are fond of books, then?" - -"I love 'em, sir!" - -"Do you read every day?" - -"Not since I came to London, for we have no books except our lesson -books at school." - -"Mm--mm! Should you like to read if you had the opportunity?" - -"Wouldn't I?" burst out Samuel, with enthusiasm. - -"I think we can arrange matters then. A boy who swims with Leander down -London Strand, causing people to take him for a sneak thief, ought -surely to have books to read," and pressing a yellow card into Samuel's -hand, he continued,-- - -"This is a ticket to a circulating library in Cheapside. By showing this -to the librarian you can draw as many books as you like. Good day, my -young gentleman!" - -Without waiting to hear Samuel's exclamations of gratitude, the -stranger was off, leaving the boy overjoyed in the street. - -From that day the school life was made more bearable by the precious -fruit of the yellow ticket. Hunger, cold, loneliness, and punishments -were daily forgotten in the adventures of knights of old. Samuel took -all risks in slipping out to get the books, but, fortunately, he was -never detected, and he proceeded to read straight through the library at -the rate of two volumes daily. - -The ruggedness of his present life, however, could not be entirely -smoothed by stories and poetry. Christ's Hospital did not differ from -other charity schools of the time in its discipline and arrangements for -the welfare of its inmates; and indeed many of the great schools of -England, Germany, and France, whose walls could be entered only by the -payment of extravagant fees, were similarly conducted. Instructors had -not yet learned that young bodies should be cared for as zealously as -young brains, and that happiness promotes better work than does -distress. They managed their schools exactly as had their fathers before -them, deeming it the most natural thing in the world that growing boys -should be poorly nourished and poorly warmed. - -As winter drew on, Samuel yearned deeply for his home. He pictured to -himself the family in the comfortable old house in Devonshire, and his -thoughts clung so feverishly to the images of his mother and his big -brother Luke that even his dreams enfolded them, and often he awoke -weeping in the night. He could not inform the loved ones of his dreary -condition, for all letters written by the students were read by the -masters before being posted, and if unfavorable comments were found -therein, the notes were promptly destroyed. - -Charles Lamb was ever Samuel's greatest solace. They met their little -world together, fighting, dreaming, hoping, and depending upon each -other for company at all times. Both were gayly disposed and many were -the daring pranks they played on their mates and upon each other. The -leave-days were almost the hardest of the week for Samuel, as Charles -usually went home, and he was left to walk the streets alone from -morning till night. Sometimes he, too, paid a visit to the Lambs, but -finding that they were very poor and very busy people, he feared that -his presence might seem an intrusion, so he usually stayed away. - -One winter's day Samuel was walking slowly round Newgate market. He had -no interest in Newgate market, but he must walk somewhere, and this was -as good a place as any. A cold rain beat pitilessly upon his uncovered -head, and from time to time he drew his blue coat more closely about -him. Everyone but himself seemed in a hurry to get to places of shelter, -and occasionally persons would pause to stare curiously at the lad who -stood motionless in the downpour, gazing listlessly into shop windows. -Whenever he found a deserted stair or vestibule, he stole in and read -until he was curtly despatched by owner or policeman. Round and round -the square he trod, jaded, famished, waiting for the hours to drag -themselves by. - -Suddenly revolting at the sights and sounds of the market, Samuel -hurried into a by-street, turning to the right here, to the left there, -bent only upon leaving the deadly familiar spot behind. On he went, -shivering and footsore. On he went, purposeless and oppressed. He was -usually able to gather odd bits of pleasure and information from these -weekly excursions, but to-day the city seemed like a dull and winding -lane, where one had no choice but to walk and walk until nightfall -brought the end. Even cathedrals, bird-stores, and persons attired in -black, which ordinarily proved highly diverting, failed to arrest his -attention, and he tramped the flooded pavements hour after hour and mile -upon mile. - -Finally he halted before a toy-shop whose windows looked into a narrow -court, and was glancing over the display of balls, dolls, and -fishing-rods, when a delicious odor of cooked food greeted him from -behind. Samuel faced about so sharply that he almost sent a baker's boy -sprawling, who chanced to be turning into the court with a huge basket -on his shoulder. - -"Look out! Look out! Would you try to upset a hard-workin' cove?" bawled -the white-capped 'prentice; but Samuel allowed him to pass unanswered, -for with the whiff of meaty fragrance his stomach gave a furious lurch, -and his head seemed about to swim off his shoulders. He swayed -unsteadily, caught blindly at the window ledge, and leaned his forehead -against the dripping stone as he struggled to regain his self-command. - -"Blue Coat!" - -The name was shouted into his ear, and Samuel was dizzily conscious of -being collared from behind, while a strong arm pulled him smartly erect. - -"I beg your pardon, sir," quavered the boy, alarmed at the gruff tone -and iron hand. Twisting his head about, he got a glimpse of a very fat -man with a round red face and protruding blue eyes. - -"What made ye look so hard at my baker's boy? Anything wrong?" - -"No-o!" - -"Must ha' been. You glared after him like a tiger." - -"Nothing was the matter except I was so hungry,--and--when I smelled the -bread and meat--I couldn't help it, I suppose." - -For the first time since he had become a pupil at Christ's Hospital, -Samuel gave voice to his privations, and, unmanned by sheer want and -exhaustion, the truth came out, while tears of misery rained down his -pallid cheeks. - -"Hungry!" The ejaculation came like the report of a small cannon. - -Samuel could only nod in speechless, desperate assent. - -"Come in here!" roared the captor, enforcing his order with a ferocious -tug at the blue collar. - -Samuel feared that he had somehow trespassed upon the big man's rights, -and that punishment was likely to follow. He longed vaguely to run, but -weakness held him chained, and he felt himself being pushed before his -jailer through the toy-shop and into a small parlor at the rear. - -"Mother! This Blue Coat is so hungry that he nearly devoured our dinner -through his eyes as the baker brought it in." - -"Hungry?" echoed a piping feminine voice, and from the farther corner of -the parlor a little woman approached with a napkin thrown over her arm. - -"Sakes alive, ain't you had no dinner over to the school?" she asked in -a motherly tone that set Samuel's heart beating. - -"No. We don't have any dinner on Saturdays. They give us a little -supper when we go back," and Samuel explained the holiday system. - -"What, then, did you have for breakfast?" - -"A slice of bread and a cup of beer." - -"How perfectly outraging! Our dinner is just ready, so sit up to the -table as quick as you can. 'Tain't a fancy meal, but it's good enough to -fill up a hollow, faintin' stomach. How perfectly outraging!" - -Before Samuel could consent or object, he was thrust into a chair at the -small round table, where several steaming dishes awaited the pleasure of -the party. Host and hostess took their places, and a heaped-up plate was -speedily set before the astonished guest. - -"Eat that slice of hot mutton," adjured the woman pleasantly; "and after -that, you'll find those potatoes and beans pretty satisfyin'." - -The substantial repast seemed a kingly banquet to Samuel, and he ate -with almost wolfish appreciation. His plate was like the widow's cruse -of oil, which was promptly refilled as soon as emptied; and the fat man -and the little woman looked on, the while, with benevolence shining from -their faces. - -"Now," said the hostess, when Samuel could take no more, not even a -second slice of currant pudding, "while we sip our tea, we'll tell each -other who each other is. My husband over there is Mr. Crispin, and I'm -Mrs. Crispin. He has the toy-shop that you came through, and he is a -shoemaker, besides. We never had any children, and we just live along -here, contented with what good things we have. Now Mr. Crispin is the -best man in the world--" - -"Hush, hush, my dear!" burst out the big man, a tremendous blush -spreading over his honest face. - -"He is, so there! He talks loud and kind o' scary, but he couldn't say -'no' to a kitten. Now, little Blue Coat, tell us who you are." - -Samuel had quite regained his usual bright manner under the spell of -their hospitality, and he gladly told them of the home and loved ones he -had left behind in Devonshire. Pleased to see the Crispins interested, -he described many droll adventures of the boys at school, and these set -the worthy pair laughing mightily. - -After dinner, Mr. Crispin showed his young visitor all the glories of -the toy-shop and the shoemaking den. Mrs. Crispin with much pride -exhibited four canaries, a yellow patchwork quilt, and a coral -breastpin; and Samuel was warmed to the heart by their simple -kindliness. - -The afternoon wore away all too soon, and when he was leaving, Samuel -held Mrs. Crispin's hand tightly in both of his, as he tried to thank -her for the blessed visit. - -"'Tain't nothing at all!" protested she earnestly. "Who wouldn't give a -nice-spoken lad a bite when he was faintin' with hungriness on the very -doorstep, an' him a Blue Coat, too? Now listen, Sammy; you are to come -here every Saturday. If we shouldn't be to home, you'll find the key -under the rubber door-mat, an' you can come right in an' help yourself -in the pantry. 'T ain't just that we feel sorry to see you starvin', but -we like children, we always did, 'specially nice ones, an' you seem so -gentlemanly mannered, an' we'd feel honored to have you here. Remember, -every Saturday, now, rain or shine." - -His acquaintance with the shoemaker and his wife proved the greatest -relief to Samuel. Not only did a toothsome dinner await him every -leave-day in their modest parlor, but the whole-souled friendliness of -their innocent welcome cheered him through all the following days. The -Crispins looked forward to the Saturday visits as eagerly as did Samuel -himself, and this assurance gave the boy courage to come with -regularity. - -During the springtime Mr. Crispin and Samuel even planned that the boy -should gain permission from the head master to leave Christ's Hospital -altogether and learn the shoemaking trade under Mr. Crispin's direction. -It was arranged that the shoemaker, instead of Samuel, should approach -Mr. Bowyer with the request, it being thought that his age and size -would carry more influence with the head master; but on the day set for -the interview Mr. Bowyer chanced to wear his "passy wig," and he -disposed of the subject by shouting violently,-- - -"'O'ds my life, man, what d'ye mean?" and pushing the astounded Crispin -bodily out of the room. - -Samuel was so disappointed at the failure of the dazzling scheme, and so -mortified at the treatment his friend had received, that he was rushing -past Mr. Bowyer with the intention of apologizing to Mr. Crispin for -having drawn him into his own petty troubles, when the head master -stopped him. - -"Some one is waiting to see you in my lower office, Master Coleridge." - -"To see me, sir?" - -Samuel was taken aback, for never before had any one paid him a call at -Christ's Hospital. - -"Who can it be, I wonder. Surely Mrs. Crispin would not come here." - -Crossing the threshold of the office, he descried a stalwart manly form -at the window. - -The first glance seemed to stupefy the lad. He halted abruptly in the -doorway, his hands fell limply at his sides, and he seemed unable to -advance or retreat. It only needed a slight movement on the visitor's -part to break the tension, when Samuel bounded forward with a great cry, -and threw himself into the stranger's arms. - -"Luke, Luke, my brother, my Luke, my Luke!" - -"Here I am, little fellow. I wanted to surprise you, so I didn't write." - -"Oh, Luke, you won't go away again and leave me here, will you? Please, -please tell me that you won't!" - -"I shan't leave you alone in the city for a day," declared the young -man warmly. "I have come up to walk the London Hospital, so I shall be -within easy reach hereafter. Your holidays you shall spend with me, and -I have already arranged with the master to make you comfortable here at -school. Bless you, little fellow, you mustn't quite suffocate me with -your hugging, for I want to live and take good care of you. I have -waited and worked for this ever since you came to London, and now you're -going to have fair weather all round. Come along; I've just begged a -holiday for you. What should you like to do?" - -"Introduce you to the Crispins." - -"Very well. We'll get the Crispins, and go for a ride on the good old -river Thames." - -"A boat ride! A boat ride! Luke, do you care if I ask Charles Lamb to go -with us?" - -"Not a bit. This is the day when we are going to do just as we please, -you know." - -"Oh, Luke, you're so good, and you'll like the Crispins, and Charles -'ll like you--and--and--isn't the world beautiful to-day, Luke?" - - -In a cosy little parlor, at the top of a London stair, a dozen persons -were chatting together. The sounds of wind and rain upon the casement -only served to increase the warmth and brightness of the snug apartment. - -Everybody seemed in the highest spirits, and finally one of the guests, -a man whom the others called "Southey," turned gayly to the hostess and -inquired with the ease of old friendship,-- - -"My good lady, when are we to have our supper? Please remember that -Wordsworth and I have journeyed all the way from Keswick solely for the -delight of supping with you. Do you realize that eleven o'clock has come -and gone?" - -Mary Lamb laughed merrily, but shook her head with decision. - -"Fifteen minutes more you must wait, so curb your hunger as best you -can. The guest of honor has not yet arrived, and when he comes, you will -all agree, I am sure, that it would be worth while to delay supper until -to-morrow, if only we might have him with us." - -"A mystery! A mystery!" cried the visitors, and thereupon they began to -ply Miss Mary's brother with questions as to who the expected personage -might be. - -To all these, the young host gave jovial but vague replies, exchanging -with his sister frequent nods and smiles over their heads. - -Presently there sounded a quick step on the stair, and Charles Lamb -threw open the door, shouting joyfully,-- - -"Welcome, Samuel, my blessed old friend! Welcome, a thousand times!" - -At his words, the guests sprang up with a single impulse, crying in -astonishment,-- - -"Coleridge!" - -Then for an instant they turned their eyes away from the two who stood -clasping one another's hands in wordless, heartfelt greeting. - -The silence endured but a moment; then the new-comer was quickly -surrounded, and the room rang with the hearty good-will of his -reception. - -Charles hastened to relieve him of his travelling cloak and hat, Mary -summoned the party to the table, temptingly laid, and the guests sat -down to the enjoyment of the viands and the company of their unexpected -friend. - -Samuel Coleridge had just returned after a two years' absence from -England, and the tales he related of his visit, the accounts he gave of -his adventures abroad, captivated the company. Every word that fell from -his lips was received with keen attention, and whether his mood was -grave or gay, serious or sprightly, his hearers sat enthralled. - -"To be sure, Coleridge is a wonderful poet," whispered Southey to the -lady next him, "but in my judgment he talks even better than he writes." - -"He holds us with his expressive eyes," mused Mary. - -"I can see," decided Charles, "that his power lies in his magnetic -voice, the voice that charmed us all in the old school-days." - -Whatever was the source of his singular influence, hours passed as the -visitors sat under the spell of Samuel's presence, and morning was -stealing across the threshold when they rose from the table and took -their departure. - -Coleridge was the last to go, and when about to descend the stair, he -again clasped the hand of his host with a warm and fervent pressure. - -"I am fond of them all," he said slowly, indicating those whose -footfalls still sounded in the passage below; "I am fond of them all: -Southey, Wordsworth, Lovell, and the rest; but you, Charles Lamb, you -are to me as though you had been born my younger brother." - - - - -THE LION THAT HELPED - -[CANOVA] - - -"Tonin, Tonin, come out with us to the River! Luigi has built a raft, -and we're going to pole it down to the second bridge." - -Five boys, bareheaded, barefooted, dirty-faced, and joyful, grouped -themselves before a mud-walled Alpine cabin, the last of a quaint -village row, while Pablo, their leader, hailed some one within. - -Instantly there appeared in the doorway a boy of their own age, clad as -roughly and lightly as themselves. His blouse was loosened comfortably -at the throat, his trousers were rolled well above the knee, and over -these cool garments he wore a hempen working-apron which was held in -place by a stout cord attached to its upper corners and passing about -his neck. In one hand he held a small steel hammer, in the other a -chisel. - -"Come on, Tonin," repeated Pablo, pointing excitedly toward the brook. - -The lad in the doorway shook his head and lifted his chisel meaningly, -as though no additional explanation were needed. - -"Oh, do, do!" urged the new-comers. "Leave your old stone-chipping for -an hour and come with us. We'll let you pole all the time if you will." - -"I can't," returned the other briefly. - -"Please come! Come along!" insisted four alluring voices, but Pablo -turned away impatiently. - -"Leave that sullen Tonin alone! He'd rather bang away at his -grandfather's stones than go with us on the jolliest jaunt we could -name. Come on, and let him stay by himself." - -Thereupon the boys ran swiftly down the adjoining slope, and Tonin -Canova stepped into the house with a shrug, as though glad to be rid of -them and their invitations. He did not tarry in the cleanly sunlit -cabin, but hurried out to the rear garden, where an old man wearing an -apron similar to his was busily tapping and chipping at a block of stone -erected upon wooden supports. - -"Why didn't you go with the others?" inquired the stone-cutter, looking -up from his work. "You needn't have come back, because I have finished -the urn for the terrace of the Villa d'Asolo, and it is too late in the -afternoon to begin on the Monfumo altar ornaments. Besides, you have -stood by your work pretty hard lately, and I think every boy needs a -holiday once in a way." - -"I don't want a holiday, grandfather." - -"Bless us! What are you talking about? Who ever heard of a boy who -didn't want a holiday every day in the week, if he could get it?" - -"I'd like to be free from working on your things, of course, but I don't -want to pole a raft. I'd rather carve my cherries, if you can do -without me the rest of the afternoon." - -"Ho, ho!" chuckled the old man fondly; "you're just like me, Tonin: work -is play when it happens to be stone-work. Do your cherries, if you have -the mind." - -"Hurrah! I can finish them to-day, and I'll do a pear next, and--see, -grandfather, by carnival-time I'll have plenty to sell," and throwing -open the door of a small rude cupboard set in the branches of a stunted -acacia, Tonin proudly displayed a collection of peaches, apples, and -grapes which his skilful fingers had wrought out of fragments of stone -left from old Pasino's cuttings. Next autumn, when all the villagers and -country folk of the province would assemble at Asolo for their carnival -and yearly frolic, Tonin would peddle his pretty fruit among the -pleasure-seekers, confident of filling his purse-bag with coins in -exchange for his wares. As he stood reviewing his handiwork, he smiled -slyly at thought of the gifts he would buy for the two old people who -adored him, and who had freely shared with him their roof and bread, -from his earliest infancy. - -The stone-cutter's earnings were necessarily small, and for two years -Tonin had assisted him regularly at his work, cutting, carrying, -measuring, and delivering day by day. He seconded Pasino's efforts so -intelligently, and labored through the long hours with such manly -patience, that the scanty comforts in the Alpine cabin visibly -increased, and all the while the boy was learning the use of the cunning -edged tools which his grandfather wielded so dexterously. The lad's -name, as it appeared on the parish register, was Antonio, but to the -guileless aged pair who cared for him he was simply and always _Tonin_. - -Hoof-beats, accompanied by a shout from the roadway, caused the -stone-cutter and the boy to hurry quickly to the hedgerow before the -cabin. - -A mounted horseman wearing the livery of the Duke d'Asolo called out, -as with difficulty he brought his spirited steed to a standstill,-- - -"Pasino, you are wanted at the villa. Something in the picture gallery -needs to be done, and you are the only one to do it. The duke gives a -great banquet to-night, and the room must be in readiness. Vittori sent -me, and bids you to hurry as fast as you can." - -"I'll follow you at once. Come, Tonin, mayhap you can be of service at -the villa also." - -Off galloped the messenger, and down the road marched Pasino Canova, -bearing his tool-box upon his shoulder, while his barefooted grandson, -similarly equipped, trudged cheerily by his side. - -The stone-cutter was frequently in demand at the Villa d'Asolo, for -besides the craft of his trade, the old man understood something of the -uses of plaster, stucco, and even marble. No other workman in this -remote hill country was so skilled, and for many years he had received -the friendly patronage of Giovanni Falier, Duke d'Asolo. - -On the way, Pasino stopped for an instant before the entrance of a -gentleman's country residence. "This'" said he, "is the home of Toretto, -the great, great sculptor." - -"Oh, grandfather, let's go in and look at his wonderful statues," begged -Tonin. "Please, grandfather! Surely he wouldn't care, for I came once -with Giuseppe Falier, and he allowed us to look at everything. Do, -grandfather!" - -"Not to-day," objected the old man, hastily resuming his onward way; "we -have work to do, and have promised to hurry to the Villa d'Asolo as fast -as we can." - -Tonin slowly followed Pasino down the road, looking backward over his -shoulder as long as the tall chimneys of Toretto's palace could be seen. - -"Grandfather," said he thoughtfully, as a turning of the way shut the -sculptor's house from sight, "I'd rather be able to make a statue as -beautiful as the ones Toretto showed us that day than do anything else -in the whole world." - -"Ah, that you might!" burst out the old man emphatically; "but, Tonin, -for such work the eyes, the fingers, the mind must be taught--taught, -Tonin, and--well, you know the rest: poor folk like us mustn't be gloomy -because we can't do fine works. Chances to learn such things cost so -much that none but gentlemen with bulging purses can afford them." - -"I'm not gloomy, grandfather! You can teach me all that you know, and -when I am a man, I will take care of you and grandmother." Here the boy -began to whistle gayly, seeking to banish the look of sadness that had -rested for a moment on the old man's features. - -Presently they reached the Villa d'Asolo, whose pillared gates were -thrown open to them by retainers. Across the terraces they took their -way, past arbors, gardens of blossoms, and plashing fountains, reaching -at last a postern door of the many-storied castle. - -In the passage they were confronted by Giuseppe Falier, the duke's -youngest son, a handsome lad no older than Tonin. A serving-man attended -him, carrying a glass aquarium that contained numerous brilliant -goldfish. Boy and groom were preparing to depart through the door by -which the Canovas had entered, but at sight of the new-comers Giuseppe -halted. - -"Hello, Tonin," he exclaimed; "come with me up to my cousin's house. -This is David's birthday, and I forgot all about it until this minute. I -didn't have any present to give him, so I decided I'd take the goldfish -out of the conservatory. He likes such things. I don't, myself. Come on, -and we'll have some fun. David has a new boat, and we'll make him take -it out." - -Giuseppe's invitation was so frankly cordial that Tonin would have -joined him readily had he had no duties to perform. Giuseppe was a lad -of jovial spirit who chose his friends wherever he found good comrades, -quite regardless of rank and riches, and many were the half-days that he -and Tonin had spent together, exploring the hills and valleys round -about Asolo. - -"I can't go to-day, Giuseppe," replied Tonin; "grandfather has something -to do in the picture gallery before the banquet to-night, and he is -likely to need me." - -"My eye, but there will be a crowd of people here! One reason I'm going -up to David's is because I'm not allowed to stay up for the fun. -Good-by. I'll take you up to see the boat some day next week," and -beckoning the servant to follow with the aquarium, the young patrician -disappeared through the outer door, and the Canovas made their way up a -stately marble stair, and through a winding corridor until they came to -a long narrow apartment whose walls were hung with canvases. - -Here they were greeted by Vittori, the stout and hoary seneschal of the -palace. He wore his crimson robe of office, and a stupendous bunch of -keys hung by a chain from his girdle, clanking as he walked. - -He bustled up to the Canovas hurriedly, puffing and panting as from some -undue exertion. - -"Ha, Pasino, you are the very man I most need to see. Those four deep -niches in the walls, two at either end of this gallery, are to be filled -with the statues which Toretto has just finished. The beastly things -were delivered yesterday, and Toretto himself promised to come to see -that they were set up properly, but instead, a message was brought from -him two hours ago saying that he had sprained his silly ankle and could -not stir from the house. The duke will be furious if his marble -doll-babies are not on view to-night, and as I wouldn't touch them -myself for fear of harming them with my clumsy fingers, I called you for -the business. There, in that further ante-room, you will find Toretto's -beauties inside the packing cases, and you are to get them safely into -these niches. My-o! My-o! What a load of care falls on a poor old man -who is keeper of a palace where one hundred noble guests are expected -for a feast! Nobody in all Venetia has more worries and -responsibilities. You may have as many men as you want, Pasino, and if -your eye spies out any need for decorations in this chamber, send for -what you wish. My-o! My-o! The carriages are beginning to arrive, and I -must make eleven more arrangements before the feast is ready. You have -plenty of time, for this room is not to be used until the ladies come up -at the end of the banquet, to drink their Persian coffee," and the -seneschal departed, accompanied by the sounds of his labored breathing -and jangling keys. - -Pasino's task was a delicate one, and though Vittori sent four strong -men to aid him, the evening was nearly spent by the time the glistening -statues were released from their temporary prisons and lifted to their -pedestals in the gallery niches. - -While they worked, sounds of music and subdued laughter floated up to -them, and fragrances and appetizing odors were continually wafted from -the banquet-hall below. - -Tonin worked with the others, and when the sculptured nymphs were -brought to view, his delight knew no bounds. Taking up his position -before the last erected one, he stood with folded arms, silently, -wonderingly drinking in the beauties which Toretto's chisel had -effected. He was wholly lost to time and place and was quite unaware -that the servants had removed all traces of packing and litter, and that -a bevy of maids were now seated in the gallery, weaving garlands at -Pasino's order, for the festooning of the unfinished pedestals. He was -so absorbed in the snowy goddess before him that he was deaf to -everything until old Vittori's voice suddenly rent the gallery's -stillness with something between a groan and a shriek. - -"Where is the aquarium? Who's seen my gold-fish? Answer, somebody, or -I'll throw you all out of the window! Oh, I shall be disgraced and -discharged and maybe half killed! Where is it? Why don't you speak?" - -The seneschal's appearance, as well as his words, indicated unusual -excitement, for his scarlet robe was thrown open at the throat, his -frosty locks were rumpled, his uplifted hands were shaking, and his lips -were twitching uncannily. - -"What's the matter? What's wrong?" demanded a dozen voices, but Tonin -darted across to the old man's side with the announcement-- - -"Giuseppe carried it away this afternoon as a present to his cousin -David." - -"My-o! My-o! I am lost, I am done, I am dead!" ejaculated the seneschal, -wringing his hands. - -"What's the trouble, Vittori?" asked Pasino, laying a quieting hand -upon the shoulder of his agitated friend. - -"It is this," returned the seneschal hoarsely; "the duke ordered me to -send to the table a fresh ornamental centrepiece with each course, -making every one handsomer than the one used before it. I did so, and -all has now been served but the dessert, and that will be due in about -fifteen minutes. For this fancy piece I have filled a great tray with -Parma violets on snow, thousands of them--and in the midst of the -flowers I planned to set the aquarium of goldfish for a bit of color and -life. My-o! My-o! What shall I do?" and once again the seneschal fell to -moaning. - -"Build a column of fruit in the centre of the tray," suggested Pasino. - -"Impossible! I used a pyramid of apricots and nectarines for the second -course." - -"Wouldn't a lighted candle or lamp do?" inquired Pasino, earnestly -endeavoring to find relief for the seneschal. - -"No! No!" wailed Vittori; "lighted things would melt the snow." - -"To be sure," agreed Pasino sympathetically. - -"I know something that might be pretty," ventured Tonin timidly. - -"What is it?" Vittori demanded. - -For answer the boy turned from the seneschal and his fellow-retainers, -and whispered to Pasino apart. The old man's face brightened as he -received the boy's confidence. - -"I don't know," he commented; "but it ought to be good--yes, yes, it -would be, it would indeed!" - -"Then let him put it through," shouted the seneschal desperately. "I -can't wait to hear what it is, for I'm late now. Do as he says, -everybody, for I've got to trust my reputation to this stripling whether -I like it or not. Saints help him, for if the work is a failure, woe to -poor Vittori! Have your ornament ready in the lower rear passage, lad, -when the tray goes through to the banquet-room. Everything else shall -be taken in first, so that you may have as much time as possible." - -Off went the harassed seneschal, and Tonin, beset with misgivings lest -he had been both rash and bold in his offer of assistance, addressed the -grooms with outward composure. - -"Bring me a firkin of butter, a pail of the coldest spring water, and a -big china platter." - -His orders were swiftly obeyed, and all looked on with expectant -interest while he directed a servant to dig from the cask as much butter -as could be heaped on the platter. Next he rolled back his sleeves and -plunged his hands into the water-pail, holding them there until they -were sufficiently cooled for his purpose, then attacking the butter with -his dripping fingers, he rolled and patted it into a goodly loaf, with -motions so quick and decisive that the spectators fairly blinked. -Seizing a small chisel and a pointed wooden blade from Pasino's -tool-chest, Tonin began to convert the meaningless dairy lump into a -form familiar to all beholders. - -With the touch of his nimble instruments, attended by occasional taps -and pressures from his lithe brown fingers, the loaf vanished, and in -its place appeared a noble lion, quite as though Tonin's chisel had been -a magic wand which had freed the king of the forest from a stifling and -hideous disguise. - -[Illustration: "In its place appeared a noble lion."] - -The tawny beast, with his bushy head, slender body, powerful limbs, and -graceful tail, brought a torrent of babbling admiration from the -on-lookers; but Tonin, heedless of their chatter, sought out his -grandfather with questioning glance. He received a quiet nod from -Pasino, and drying his hands on a corner of his hempen apron, he caught -up the platter and carried it to the appointed place below stairs, -followed by Pasino and a train of chuckling servants. - -He had gauged the time exactly, for as he stepped into the low-ceiled -passage, six flower-maidens, bearing the debatable centrepiece, entered -from the opposite doorway. The seneschal joined them immediately, and -without a word set Tonin's lion in the centre of the snowy field, -enclosed on every side by drifts of Parma violets. Vittori then abruptly -directed the maidens to enter the banquet-hall with their ornament. - -That the seneschal was alarmed lest the duke would not be pleased with -this hastily contrived decoration, Tonin read at a glance; and -impulsively he threw himself before the carriers to stay their progress. - -"Don't send it in if it isn't right, Master Vittori! Try something else, -please!" he implored. - -"Hist! Let them go, let them go! I have nothing else to send, so I must -stand or fall by your butter-toy. Alas for me, and you, too, sirrah, if -the duke be vexed!" - -A strained silence fell upon the group in the rear passage as the -flower-maidens crossed the main corridor and entered the banquet-hall. -The grooms and maids exchanged significant nods and winks, old Vittori -unconsciously pressed his keys tightly to his breast, Pasino withdrew -into the shadow, and Tonin waited in acute suspense, wondering whether -in his desire to relieve the seneschal's dilemma he had been guilty of a -childish and ignorant blunder. As the seconds flew by, the boy's -perplexity increased, and presently he was writhing with the fear that -his offering would affront the duke, and perhaps even render him -ridiculous before the lords and ladies who sat at the board. - -Sounds of harps and violins greeted them from beyond the velvet-hung -portal, but none in the rear passage regarded the melody. - -Five minutes dragged by, and one of the flower-maidens stepped into the -corridor. Each person in the rear passage started breathlessly forward -to hear her message. - -"His grace desires the seneschal to come to him." - -"My-o! My-o!" groaned Vittori; "mercy knows what he'll do to me--and to -you, too, Tonin Canova!" - -Pausing just long enough to settle his scarlet robe and adjust his linen -neckcloth, the seneschal concealed his distress as well as he could, and -walked sedately into the banquet-hall. - -Tonin locked his hands together in despair. - -"What a dunce I was--I, Tonin Canova, who has never been off this -mountain--to dare to set up my little work before grand persons like -those! Oh, oh! and poor Vittori may be discharged on account of it!" - -Suddenly the seneschal reappeared. - -"Tonin, you are wanted at once! His grace has sent for you. Hurry! Go -on!" - -"Not in _there_!" gasped Tonin, retreating toward the stair door; "I -should die of fright before those great folk." - -"Hurry, hurry, you impudent monkey! Do you think you can keep the Duke -d'Asolo waiting?" - -To make an end of the argument, Vittori seized the boy by the arm, -giving him a push that sent him into the banquet-room with a rush. - -Tonin was half-blinded by the myriads of lights, and quite dazed by the -grandeur of the spectacle. He dimly comprehended that the vast apartment -was hung with vines and banked with flowers; that a table like a huge -cross ran the entire length and nearly the breadth of the room; that the -Duke d'Asolo sat at the upper end, and that hosts of ladies and -gentlemen in gorgeous raiment turned about in their chairs and fixed -their eyes upon the young visitor. - -A scalding wave of shame rushed upward through Tonin's body, scorching -his cheeks and dyeing his neck as he became conscious of his own -workaday garb. He came to an abrupt stop, standing with downcast eyes -before the Venetian company, a truly diverting figure with his loose -blouse, rolled-up trousers and sleeves, bare arms, bare legs, and -dripping apron. - -"Come, my lad, and tell us something about yourself," said the duke in a -tone surprisingly gentle for one who palpitated with wrath and -vengeance. - -Tonin made his way slowly up the room, pausing at the duke's elbow, and -raising his eyes just far enough to get a glimpse of his yellow lion on -the table, directly before Giovanni Falier. - -"When did you do this?" inquired the master of the feast, indicating the -ornament with his jewelled index finger. - -"To-night," admitted Tonin feebly. - -"Can you make other figures and objects?" - -"Yes, signor." - -"Where did you learn?" - -"From grandfather, signor." - -"I have been greatly surprised this evening, as also have been my -guests, at sight of this--this decoration, and ahem--" - -"Now it's coming," thought Tonin in a panic. "Perhaps he'll put me in a -dungeon." - -"I have sent it clear around the table so that every one might examine -it closely, and we all agree about it. How should you like to make -statues, lad,--nymphs, you know, and fairies--" - -"And goddesses like that one upstairs?" cried Tonin, his face alight -with this unexpected turn of the conversation. - -"Yes." - -"Oh, oh! I'd rather make a goddess like that than to be a king, or _go -to the carnival_!" - -A chorus of laughter greeted this outburst, and Tonin trembled with -embarrassment and surprise. - -"Then you shall," the duke declared with a smile like April sunshine. -"You must have worked pretty hard, harder than most boys ever do, to be -able to make this," pointing to the lion; "and if you are willing to -keep on working, you may learn to do great things. You shall go to -Toretto, the sculptor who did the four pieces upstairs, and he will -teach you to make statues as good. Shall you like it, my boy?" - -"Like it! Oh, signor, if I had a chance to learn anything so beautiful -I'd work--I'd work--" - -A vision of the glistening goddess and her wordless grace came before -him, causing something to spring up in his throat that choked him. Twice -he tried to finish his eager speech, but the words did not come. He gave -a quick, eloquent gesture of entreaty, and down went his face into his -hands before them all. - -"A toast, a toast!" exclaimed the duke, springing to his feet with -upraised glass. "We'll pledge in water, if you please, good people, for -clear water and unspoiled childhood are the purest things of earth. -Ladies and gentlemen, I offer you our little friend, Tonin Canova. May -he work faithfully with his teacher day by day, and when he comes to -manhood, may he be good and great and happy! God bless him!" - -Clink, clink, went the glasses. - -Tonin raised his head, and as he turned to withdraw, he whispered to the -duke with a beaming smile,-- - -"I don't know any nice words to say, but maybe you'll tell all the -people for me how a boy feels when he's too happy to laugh and too happy -to cry." - - -Up the Alpine road to the village of mud-walled cabins rode a man one -day in autumn. His air was that of an experienced traveller, his dress -rich but modest, his horse a spirited charger. - -At the entrance to the village, a turn in the road brought him face to -face with a man in peasant attire who was walking in the opposite -direction. The rider bent curiously, and gazed down at the passer-by -with keenest interest; then bringing his horse sharply to a standstill, -he cried,-- - -"Pablo! Don't you remember me?" - -The man by the way halted in surprise. For a moment he regarded the -stranger blankly, then some memory out of his boyhood seemed to awaken, -for suddenly he seized the horse's bridle with both hands, and -shouted,-- - -"Tonin Canova! By all the fates and furies, you are the last man in the -world I expected to see to-day!" - -"I knew you by your quick and springy step. I suppose you are still the -leader of the town, Pablo, the foremost citizen of Passagno." - -A flush of pride crept into the peasant's cheek, but he merely waved his -hand toward the extensive vineyard lying further down the slope. - -"That is mine. That's all." - -"And enough, too, old friend. Your purse must be ready to overflow, -after a harvest from that fine vineyard." - -The peasant blushed again and nodded. Then half timidly he addressed the -other,-- - -"I'm glad to see you again, signor--" - -The rider lifted his hand in rebuke. - -"Not _signor_ to me, Pablo! I am still your friend, and not in any wise -changed from the lad who played with you in this very roadway." - -"But you have grown powerful and wealthy!" - -"Ye-es, but gold coins can never make me anything else than I was -before." - -"But we have heard that the city of Venice gave you a pension for your -whole life, because you had made such wonderful statues." - -"Yes, Venice has been good to me." - -"And that all the great people of Rome are friends with you." - -"True, but--" - -"That the Pope has written your name in the golden book of the capital." - -"So he did; still--" - -"That Napoleon of France invited you to his court, and that the German -Emperor has even made you a knight." - -"Hark to me, Pablo!" and this time the rider's voice was commanding. -"These things are indeed true, for people everywhere have shown me the -rarest kindness; but while the palace doors of all Europe are open to me -if I care to enter, and ladies and gentlemen of every nation pour their -compliments and gold upon me, my heart has turned back to my native -village and the dear simple friends of my childhood. I have left the -great world for a time, and have come back to see the old faces; and -Pablo, on that slope, near the little cottage,"--here his voice broke, -as he pointed to the last of the mud-walled cabins,--"I have planned to -build a church as beautiful as the Parthenon at Athens. If my good old -neighbors cannot travel far enough to see the temples of the world, they -shall have one near at hand, which will show them that Canova has not -forgotten them." - -True to his word, the sculptor lingered in Passagno until there had -risen on the mountain side a classic, snowy edifice which was the -wonder and pride of all the villagers. When the builders had finished -and had gone their way, the man who had designed it all put on his -apron, took up his chisel, and completed for the altar ornaments that he -had begun twenty years before, when he had lived in the cabin just over -the way. - -How the people rejoiced in their pillared house of worship, and how -grateful they were to the giver of so splendid a gift. Warmly they bade -him farewell when his task was at length completed, and he was obliged -to go in order to execute the greater works that awaited him. - -At last, in the city of Rome, when the sculptor's hair whitened, his -step faltered, and his heart grew strangely still, the friends about -him, a brilliant company, carried him tenderly up the Alpine road, and -laid him to rest beneath the altar of his own carving. - -When the service was ended, the lords and ladies, the princes and -cardinals, the poets and teachers who had paid him their devotion to -the last, wound their way slowly down to the turbulent world; and Tonin -Canova slept on the mountain side, in the heart of his Alpine village. - - - - -FRÉDÉRIC OF WARSAW - -[CHOPIN[4]] - - -It was the evening study hour at Nicholas Chopin's boarding-school. -Twenty-five lads belonging to the oldest families of Warsaw were -assembled in the schoolroom, preparing lessons for the following day. - -The place was large, well lighted, and comfortably warmed; good pictures -hung on the walls, and racks of books filled every available nook. At -the upper end of the room, near the master's desk, stood an open piano; -and at the lower, a table bearing plates, cups, and wholesome -refreshments which would be distributed among the boys when study-hour -was over. Throughout the room great cheerfulness and comfort reigned, -and the apple-cheeked boys at the desks showed that they were generously -cared for under this kindly roof. They were mostly little fellows, -ranging in age from eight to twelve years, and a merrier company one -would journey far to find. - -When Nicholas Chopin sat behind the desk, this hour was always a quiet -one; for while he was indulgent with the boys out of school, furthering -their enjoyment with all his heart, he was also a strict and thorough -teacher, who would tolerate no disturbance from the pupils during -lesson-time. - -But to-night the master was absent, and the new assistant, a mild-eyed, -pale young man, sat in Nicholas Chopin's chair and sought to keep the -boys at their tasks. He had been among them but two or three days, and -at the very beginning the pupils had decided that this was his first -attempt at teaching. His soft voice and worried look filled the boys -with glee; and half their playtime was spent in making plans to mock and -deride him. Until now, however, they had failed to carry out their -mischievous schemes, for Nicholas Chopin had compelled them to treat -the new assistant with respectful obedience. But to-night the master had -gone from home, leaving his assistant in full charge of the school, and -the boys threw all rules to the winds for the sole purpose of vexing the -new teacher. - -Instead of the usual stillness maintained at this hour, the room was -a-buzz with whispers. The boys noisily shuffled their feet, rattled -their papers, and tossed their books about on their desks. The teacher -rapped sharply with his ruler again and again, but these warnings were -greeted with impudent chuckles and laughter. - -At one of the side desks sat Frédéric Chopin, the master's son, toiling -at a much blotted copy-book. He was heartily liked by every boy in the -house, and for some reason, whenever he spoke in his quiet way, the -others obeyed his wishes without a syllable of complaint. John -Skotricki, who had the strongest arms and legs at school, was the -ringleader on the playground; but Frédéric was chief councillor and -fun-maker at all other times and places. Although the master's son, he -enjoyed no special favor or liberty, but was held to the same line of -duty prescribed for the other students. In the classroom he was not -noticeably clever, for he was very bad at numbers, and it is doubtful if -he could have found his own country on the great globe in the corner; -but there was one thing that Frédéric Chopin could do better than any -other boy in the school, better than any other boy in Warsaw, better, -probably, than any other boy in all the country of Poland: he could play -magnificently on the piano. So remarkably he played that everybody -wondered, and strangers often came to the house for a glimpse of the -young musician. - -A year before, when he was nine, he had played at a great charity -concert given in the city hall, and after the performance the people had -surged by the stage to shake his hand and praise him; and in the -excitement and pleasure of it all, he might have become very vain of his -powers and success, but he remembered just in time that while he could -play brilliantly on the piano, he could not jump as far by ten inches as -John Skotricki, and that he did not know as much about grammar as the -youngest pupil at school. - -One boy who had attended the concert, and who loved music passionately, -was the young Prince Radziwill. He decided that evening that he would -like to know the boy pianist, and soon it was no uncommon thing for the -prince's carriage to roll up to the Chopin school. Frédéric went often -with the young nobleman to drive, sometimes even accompanying him home -to the palace; but of these things he never spoke to the boys at school, -and not one of them was jealous because Frédéric had become the prince's -friend. - -He practised diligently for many hours every day in his own room; but he -never mentioned the subject of music to the other lads, and when in -their company he was as happy-go-lucky as any schoolboy in Warsaw. - -To-night, however, when he saw the new teacher's face flush with -displeasure in the noisy schoolroom, he felt a bit sorry, for he knew -that the young man would prove to be a good-natured companion if he were -not enraged at the outset. - -Frédéric glanced uneasily about him from time to time as the confusion -increased, realizing that even the most patient of teachers would not -long endure such rebellion. He, as much as any one, enjoyed the antics -that kept the whole school tittering, and was strongly tempted to join -in the mutiny; but he had promised his father to stand by the new -assistant this evening, and he felt honor-bound to do it. - -The crisis came when John Skotricki leaped from his seat and ran down -the room in pursuit of a boy who had given him a cuff on the ear in -passing. The teacher sprang up with an angry light in his eye, and -flourished the ruler threateningly. Frédéric exchanged glances with the -assistant, and threw down his pen with the announcement,-- - -"Boys, if you'll all be quiet in your seats, I'll tell you a story." - -The others, supposing that Frédéric was on their side, and that this was -a part of the joke, folded their arms; and instantly the room grew so -still that one could hear the ticking of the clock in the hall beyond. - -Frédéric turned out all the lights, for "a story always sounds better in -the dark," he explained. Then seating himself at the piano, he began to -speak, playing all the while music that helped to tell his story. - -Every student rested his arms on his desk, and bent attentively to -listen. - -"Once upon a time there stood a great house on the bank of a lonely -river." (Here came a lightly running passage on the piano, like the -rippling of water.) "A band of robbers riding through the country paused -in the glade at nightfall. Seeing the old mansion by the river side, -they decided to force an entrance at midnight and carry away the gold -and jewels that were probably secreted there. - -"They laid their plans carefully" (sounds of many gruff, deep-toned -voices, one at a time, then all together in a rumbling chorus), "and at -the solemn hour they had chosen" (twelve clanging tones), "they tied -their horses farther up the dell, and marched, two by two, toward the -house by the swirling river. Noiselessly they approached and surrounded -the many-pinnacled dwelling, each robber choosing a window through which -he would make his entrance. At the signal of the leader" (a high faint -trill), "each man climbed to his window ledge, sawed straight through -the iron bars that protected it" (a steady rasping sound as of edged -tools), "and ripped out the glass with the point of his dagger" -(tinklings as of shattered crystal). - -"Now for the treasures! Each man had one foot inside the house, and one -hand on the inner sill, when, all at once, lights flared up in every -room" (a reckless sweep of notes), "dogs barked fiercely, shouts were -heard from the upper corridors, pistol-shots burst on the stillness of -the night, and the robbers leaped from their perches, rolling over and -over in the mud below" (loud discordant notes, and the _bang, bang_ of -the pistols mingled with the furious growling and yelping of dogs). - -"Gaining their feet in a twinkling, the robbers fled as swiftly as -though wearing wings on their boots; and reaching the horses in -breathless fright, they swung themselves into their saddles and galloped -madly away. Hour after hour they rode" (pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat of the -hoof-beats), "through valley and village and glen. On, on they spurred" -(pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat), "until they came to a deep, dense forest. Into -its shadows they plunged, knowing that here they would be safe at last -from the dogs and the men who lived in the house by the rolling river. - -"They pulled up their horses and listened" (silence), "and listened" -(silence), "but heard no pursuing feet. So, dismounting, they turned -their horses loose to nibble at will, and jaded by hours of reckless -riding, the robbers threw themselves upon the green turf to rest. The -scents of the flowers were sweet, the grass was deep and soft, the -leaves overhead rustled, rustled, rustled, and ere long, in the cool of -the summer's dawn, the weary robbers--fell--asleep." - -So quietly had Frédéric spoken, so softly had he played as he described -the woodland sounds, that, gently touching the final chord, he -discovered, by the moonlight streaming in through the windows, that -twenty-four boys, like the tired robbers, were fast asleep. - -[Illustration: "Like the tired robbers, were fast asleep."] - -Stealing from the room on tiptoe, he summoned his sisters and the -servants to bring in lights; then stepping to the piano, he struck one -crashing chord. - -As though a bomb had exploded among them, the boys started from their -slumbers, rubbing their eyes and staring stupidly at one another. - -At that moment the clock chimed the hour of dismissal, and Nicholas -Chopin entered the room; whereupon the pupils bounded from their seats -with shouts of laughter over the musical spell that Frédéric had cast -upon them. - -When the cups and plates went round, the new teacher drew the master -into the hall and told him how cleverly Frédéric had helped him to -maintain order; but in the schoolroom the lads were waving their -sandwiches and napkins, and cheering the master's son as a jolly comrade -and a true-blue mate. - - -The city of Warsaw adored its composer, Frédéric Chopin. The residents -detected hidden meanings in his playing of the piano which they -believed would sometime be accepted beyond the realm of Poland. - -He was young, handsome, and gay, and his companionship was sought on -every side. Had not his breast been stirred by an impulse stronger than -the mere desire for popularity, Frédéric Chopin would have developed -into nothing more than an elegant young musician, the acknowledged -favorite of his fellow-townsmen. But he was not content to end his -career so tamely. He must see the world. He must conquer the public -beyond his native land. He must play, he must compose, he must work and -study to greater ends. - -Accordingly, one day in November, at the age of twenty-one, he set out -for Vienna. When he found himself actually leaving kindred and home -behind, a flood of sadness swept over him. - -"I shall never return," he groaned; "my eyes will never look upon Warsaw -again!" - -His friends responded lightly to these fears, and with their words of -cheer he soon recovered his usual bright spirit. - -He was escorted as far as the first day's travel would carry him by a -score of affectionate friends; and at the end of a banquet given in his -honor, he was touched to the heart by one of their number presenting to -him a silver goblet filled with Polish earth, with entreaties that he -would meet the world as a man, and keep his country in constant -remembrance. - -In Vienna he attracted much attention by his playing, and at the end of -a year he was accounted one of the leading musical spirits of the city. - -He had decided to pay a brief visit to his home and friends, when on his -way he was horrified to learn that his beloved Poland had been seized by -the Russians, that his country was in the hands of the enemy, and that -Warsaw was converted into a camp of foreign soldiers. He dared not -advance farther, as all absent Poles had been warned by the new -Government to keep away from Poland, on pain of death. - -Frédéric was nearly crushed by these unlooked-for tidings, and, only -waiting to learn that his parents were safe and well, he set his face -toward Paris. Here he decided to make his home, as had so many others of -his exiled countrymen. Success in this city meant success in the world, -and for this Frédéric Chopin labored through the following years. - -His playing was so rare, so peculiarly delicate, that no one in Paris -could approach him in his chosen style. One critic called him "the piano -god," another, "Velvet Fingers"; and when his compositions were printed, -and the people could play them for themselves, they were nigh -transported by his genius. - -London vainly besought him to take up his residence there, but he -steadily refused, remaining for the rest of his days in Paris, the pride -of the Parisians and the idol of the many Poles who, like himself, were -exiled from their native land. - -When the end came, and the "velvet fingers" were stilled at last, he was -buried from the Church of the Madeleine. Crowds of distinguished persons -and homeless Poles attended the sacred service, and the procession was -numbered by hundreds, that, to the strains of his own "Funeral March," -followed Frédéric Chopin to the tomb. - -Finally, when his body was lovingly laid in the place prepared for it, -one of his countrymen brought forth the silver goblet which for nineteen -years the composer had fondly cherished, and, as the sweetest -benediction he could offer, reverently took a handful of Polish earth -and sprinkled it upon the body of Frédéric of Warsaw. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[4] Chopin (pronounced _Sho-pang_). - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Boys Who Became Famous Men, by -Harriet Pearl Skinner - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOYS WHO BECAME FAMOUS MEN *** - -***** This file should be named 55353-8.txt or 55353-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/3/5/55353/ - -Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Boys Who Became Famous Men - Stories of the Childhood of Poets, Artists, and Musicians - -Author: Harriet Pearl Skinner - -Illustrator: Sears Gallagher - -Release Date: August 13, 2017 [EBook #55353] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOYS WHO BECAME FAMOUS MEN *** - - - - -Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="center"><a name="cover.jpg" id="cover.jpg"></a><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p class="bold2">Boys who Became<br />Famous Men</p> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><a name="i004.jpg" id="i004.jpg"></a><img src="images/i004.jpg" alt="The citizen wheeled abruptly, grasped his arm" /></div> - -<p class="bold">"The citizen wheeled abruptly, grasped his arm."</p> - -<hr /> - -<h1>Boys who Became<br />Famous Men</h1> - -<p class="bold"><i>Stories of the Childhood of Poets,<br /> -Artists, and Musicians</i></p> - -<p class="bold">By<br />Harriet Pearl Skinner</p> - -<p class="bold space-above">Illustrated by Sears Gallagher</p> - -<p class="bold space-above">Boston<br />Little, Brown, and Company<br />1905</p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="center"><i>Copyright, 1905</i>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">By Little, Brown, and Company</span>.<br /> -——<br /><i>All rights reserved</i></p> - -<p class="center">Published September, 1905</p> - -<p class="center space-above">THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="center">TO<br />FRANK, HOWARD, AND ROBERT ANDREWS</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table summary="CONTENTS"> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td><span class="smcap">Page</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Beni's Keeper: Giotto</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Victor: Bach</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">"The Little Boy at Aberdeen": Byron</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">"Tom Pear-Tree's Portrait": Gainsborough</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Georg's Champion: Händel</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Six Hundred Plus One: Coleridge</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Lion that Helped: Canova</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Frédéric of Warsaw: Chopin</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - -<table summary="LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS"> - <tr> - <td class="left">"The citizen wheeled abruptly, grasped his arm"</td> - <td><a href="#i004.jpg"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td><span class="smcap">Page</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">"He was roused by a hand upon his shoulder"</td> - <td><a href="#i017.jpg">4</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">"Sebastian started up, bewildered"</td> - <td><a href="#i051.jpg">37</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">"Lay in the grass reading aloud from his favorite story"</td> - <td><a href="#i073.jpg">56</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">"A head suddenly appeared above the wall"</td> - <td><a href="#i103.jpg">84</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">"The clavichord provided unceasing entertainment"</td> - <td><a href="#i137.jpg">116</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">"In its place appeared a noble lion"</td> - <td><a href="#i215.jpg">193</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left">"Like the tired robbers, were fast asleep"</td> - <td><a href="#i241.jpg">216</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2"><i>BOYS WHO BECAME<br />FAMOUS MEN</i></p> - -<h2><span>BENI'S KEEPER</span> <span class="smaller">[GIOTTO<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a>]</span></h2> - -<p>One summer morning, long ago, a small boy guarded his father's sheep on -a hillside in the Apennines. Up and down the stony pasture he trod, -driving back the lambs who strayed too far, and trying all the while to -keep his wayward charges in a group where he could count them from time -to time. His chief care was to prevent them from straggling into the -lonely passes above, where wild animals might set upon and devour them; -and to watch that they did not wander down the wooded slope and imprison -themselves in the tangled thickets below.</p> - -<p>The boy might easily have been mistaken for a dryad, as he sprang from -rock to rock, whistling shrilly here, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>coaxing, calling there, and -waving his crook to direct the truants back to the flock. It would have -seemed no great wonder if he had really stepped out from a mountain -boulder to command these gentle troops, for like all woodland sprites, -he was brown. His eyes were brown, his hair was brown, and the tunic -reaching barely to his knee was made of cool brown linen. His sleeves -were rolled to the shoulder, and his arms and legs, bared ever to the -sun, were as brown as bronze itself. A crimson cover-kerchief wound -carelessly about his head was the only bit of vivid color on the -mountain side.</p> - -<p>The sun shone hot, and when Giotto was satisfied that his sheep were all -about him, cropping the mosses, he threw himself down in the shade of an -ilex-tree, and wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his tunic.</p> - -<p>Below, he could see his home nestling in a forest of sturdy pines, and -far down the valley shone the roofs and spires<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> of the village. -Southward appeared a glimpse of the public road that threaded its way -through the hills to the mighty city of Florence. Giotto had never -visited the place, but his father, who every spring carried wool thither -to market, had often told him of the splendid bridges, towers, and -palaces to be seen there. Great men lived there too, Giotto's father had -said, and one of them, a certain Cimabue,<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> painted such pictures as -the world had never seen before. Of this painter and his colors the boy -was never tired of hearing; and as he lay on the grass under the -ilex-tree, he was longing unspeakably for the time to come when he -himself might go to Florence and behold the pictures wrought by -Cimabue's hand.</p> - -<p>Musing, his eye fell upon a smooth flat stone near by, and with the -sight came a desire that caused him to leap from his lounging position, -his face alight with purpose.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p><p>"Hold still for a little while, Beni!" he said, addressing one of the -sheep that nibbled beside the stone; "just be quiet, and I'll play I'm -Cimabue, and draw your picture."</p> - -<p>Giotto reached for a sharp bit of slate that had chipped from the rock -above, and carefully studying the woolly face before him, began to draw -upon the flat white stone. Patiently, thoughtfully he worked, glancing -now up at his placid companion, now down at his flinty canvas, and -coaxing Beni back into position with tempting handfuls of grass whenever -the animal turned to trot away.</p> - -<p>The sun rose high, and the boy, bending low over his task, forgot that -he was warm, forgot that he was tired, even forgot that he was hungry, -until he was roused by a hand upon his shoulder.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i017.jpg" id="i017.jpg"></a><img src="images/i017.jpg" alt="He was roused by a hand upon his shoulder" /></div> - -<p class="bold">"He was roused by a hand upon his shoulder."</p> - -<p>He sprang up, startled beyond speech by the touch, for he had believed -himself alone with the silence and the sheep.</p> - -<p>Before him stood a man in the robes of a scholar. His manner was -stately,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> his face pale and serious. He was gazing intently downward, -not upon the little Tuscan shepherd, but at Beni's picture upon the -stone.</p> - -<p>"Boy, where did you learn to draw?" he exclaimed in a voice of strong -excitement.</p> - -<p>"Learn to draw?" queried Giotto wonderingly. "Nowhere, sir. I haven't -learned."</p> - -<p>"Do you mean me to believe that you have had no teacher, no one to tell -you how to use your pencil?" The speaker searched the boy's face -earnestly, almost fiercely, in his desire to know whether the child -spoke the truth.</p> - -<p>Giotto, innocent of all but the facts of his simple experience, replied -sadly, "My father is too poor to pay for lessons."</p> - -<p>"Then God Himself has taught you!" declared the stranger, hoarse with -agitation. "What is your name?"</p> - -<p>"Giotto, sir."</p> - -<p>"I am Cimabue, Giotto."</p> - -<p>"Not—not Cimabue, the painter of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> Florence!" ejaculated the lad, -falling back a step, unable to believe that he who stood before him was -in reality the hero of his boyish dreams.</p> - -<p>"Yes," affirmed the man gravely, "and if you will go with me to -Florence, child, I will make of you so great a painter that even the -name of Cimabue will dwindle before the name of Giotto."</p> - -<p>Down upon one bare knee fell the boy, and grasping the master's hand in -both of his, he cried,—</p> - -<p>"Oh, teach me to paint pictures, great and beautiful pictures, and I -will go with you <i>anywhere</i>—" He broke off suddenly and rose,—"if -father will give me leave," he concluded quietly.</p> - -<p>"Oho!" and the artist smiled curiously. "If your father forbade, you -would not go with me, even though you might become a great painter?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Giotto slowly, casting down his eyes, "even though I might -become a great painter."</p> - -<p>"Most good, most good," burst out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> the master exultantly; "a true heart -should ever direct a painter's hand, and yours is true indeed, Giotto. -Come, let us go to him."</p> - -<p>Down the steep they hastened, the boy running on before to point the -way, the master following with the look of one who has found a diamond -in the dust at his feet; and when they came before Giotto's father with -their strange request, and the Tuscan peasant learned what fortune had -befallen his child, with the promised teaching and protection of Cimabue -the renowned, he bared his head, waved his hand toward Florence, and -said to the painter solemnly,—</p> - -<p>"Take him, master, and teach him the cunning of your brush, the magic of -your colors; tell him the secret of your art and the mystery of your -fame, but let him not forget his home, nor his mountains, nor his God."</p> - -<p class="space-above">And what became of the little Tuscan shepherd?</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p><p>He dwelt with Cimabue in the wonderful city of Florence, studying -early, studying late; and by the time he had grown to manhood, he was -known to be the greatest painter in all the world. Even his master -turned to him for instruction, and picture-lovers journeyed from distant -countries to see him and behold his works. He was encouraged by the -church, honored by the court, loved by the poor; and in all Christendom -no name was more truly revered than that of the painter, Giotto.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Giotto (pronounced <i>Jótto</i>).</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Cimabue (pronounced <i>Chím-a-boó-y</i>).</p></div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>THE VICTOR</span> <span class="smaller">[BACH<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a>]</span></h2> - -<p>Down the principal street of old Ohrdruf came a procession of boys -singing a New Year's anthem. The cantor marched before them, wielding -his baton high above his head, so that those following could watch its -motions and keep in perfect accord. Behind him marched the singers, two -by two. They carried neither book nor music sheet, but every eye was -fixed steadily upon the silver-tipped baton, and forty voices rose in -harmony so splendid and exact that passers-by stopped, listened, and -turned to follow the procession down the street.</p> - -<p>The singers wore students' caps and gowns of black, and upon the breast -of each shone an embroidered Maltese cross of gold, while below it -appeared the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> crimson letters, S. M. C., which denoted that these were -the choir-boys of St. Michael's Church.</p> - -<p>Marching into an open square, they formed a compact group about the -cantor, and started a fresh and stirring hymn; and presently stepped -forth the smallest boy of them all, who paused a pace or two in advance -of the others, and took up the strain alone. Clear and sweet rang out -his voice upon the frosty air, and listeners by the way turned to one -another with nods and smiles of pleasure.</p> - -<p>"That's little Bach," announced one.</p> - -<p>"They say he is one of the best sopranos at St. Michael's," murmured -another.</p> - -<p>The lad seemed quite unconscious of the impression he was making, for -his manner was as unaffected as though he were singing only to the -barren trees. His dark face was not noticeably handsome, but was very -earnest; and a certain plaintive note in his voice <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>appealed to the -company with singular power, for while the carol falling from his lips -was blithe indeed, the eyes of his hearers were wet. Fervently he hymned -the New Year's joy, now trilling, trilling, like a rapturous bird at -springtime; now softly crooning with the sound of a distant violin.</p> - -<p>When his solo ended, a round of applause and many bravos burst from his -audience, but the boy stepped quickly back to his former place and -finished the choral with the others.</p> - -<p>In the crowd of bystanders, a man wearing a coat and cap of rough gray -fur smiled broadly when the people applauded little Bach.</p> - -<p>"Who is the boy?" inquired a stranger at his elbow.</p> - -<p>"He is Sebastian Bach and my brother," announced the fur-coated man. "I -am the organist at St. Michael's, and he is one of the leading -sopranos."</p> - -<p>"You should be proud of the child, for he sings remarkably well."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p><p>"I am proud of him—ah, here come the collectors."</p> - -<p>The singing was done, and in and out among the bystanders went the boys, -passing their wooden plates for pennies in exchange for their serenade.</p> - -<p>Nearly every one contributed something, for the people of Ohrdruf were -genuine music-lovers, and they knew that the money gathered in this -fashion would be divided equally among the boys, to use as they pleased.</p> - -<p>The choir broke ranks, having paraded and collected in all the streets -of the town, and black-robed boys scurried away in every direction.</p> - -<p>"Are you bound for home now, Sebastian?" asked Georg Erdmann, the -soloist's marching companion.</p> - -<p>"No," replied the other, "I am going to the church to practise."</p> - -<p>"Oh, little Bach is going to practise on the organ," exclaimed a woman -who had overheard the boy's speech. "Come, sister, let's go in and -listen while he plays."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p><p>Whereupon the two matrons followed him across the square, and the -fur-coated organist, who had lately seemed so gratified at Sebastian's -success, scowled fiercely.</p> - -<p>"I wish that boy would stick to his singing, and let the organ alone," -he muttered. "People tell me every day that if I don't look sharp my -little brother will beat me at my own profession. He would make me a -nice return for my kindness, if, after I have taken him into my house, -fed him, clothed him, and taught him everything that he knows about -music, he should try to outstrip me in my own work and shame me before -my friends. I won't have it! I won't bear it! I'll admit that the boy is -industrious and generally obedient, but I sha'n't let him impose on me, -if he <i>is</i> of my own flesh and blood. Why should these people go to hear -<i>him</i> practise? Why don't they drop in while <i>I</i> am playing? I am the -organist, although people seem to forget the fact.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> I think I'll step -over to the church and see what these people are going mad about."</p> - -<p>Into the shadowy edifice he stole, taking up his position behind the two -women whose coming had so clearly annoyed him. The peal of the organ was -filling the place from floor to dome, but though the women listened with -eager attention, the face of Christoff Bach gradually softened.</p> - -<p>"He is playing his studies, just as I have taught him. Any boy who is -willing to work could do as well. There is nothing remarkable in that -performance. I needn't be worried for my position yet awhile."</p> - -<p>High in the organ-loft Sebastian practised faithfully, unaware of the -presence of kindred or stranger. Page after page he rehearsed, sometimes -repeating a difficult passage many times before leaving it.</p> - -<p>At length he removed the thick scroll from the rack, and replaced it -with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> second book of musical manuscript. Then the church re-echoed -with sounds of a brilliant fugue.</p> - -<p>At the first note Christoff Bach started violently and his mouth fell -open with astonishment. He strained forward to be sure that he heard -aright, and as the inspiriting theme rolled through the vaulted spaces -his eyes grew sinister and his hands were clenched so tightly that his -nails dug savagely into his palms.</p> - -<p>"My book," he gasped; "the music that I copied at Arnstadt for my own -use! When did he decide to steal it, and undertake to learn my best -selections? He can't keep to his own pieces, but must filch out mine -during my absence, and fumble them on the organ so that my friends can -laugh at me for being outdone by a ten-year-old. The braggart! I'd -thrash him soundly if I hadn't promised father that I'd keep my hands -off him; but I'll settle this business before I sleep. The upstart!"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p><p>Raging inwardly, Christoff Bach stalked from the church; and half an -hour later Sebastian quietly took his music bag under his arm and -started homeward, conscious that he was very hungry, and that an -appetizing New Year's dinner would be ready when he arrived.</p> - -<p>Sebastian Bach had lost both parents by death, and for nearly a year he -had lived with his brother at Ohrdruf. Seldom does an orphan fall into -such kindly hands, for Christoff had generously supplied the boy's -needs, and the organist's young wife had cared for Sebastian with all -the gentleness of a sister. They sent him to the Lyceum school, and -Christoff taught him music at home. At first the elder brother rejoiced -over the boy's progress in organ playing, and often rubbed his hands -with pride as he predicted for his pupil a future filled with musical -successes. But as the months rolled by, and the lad acquired greater -knowledge, Christoff became silent.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p><p>Had Sebastian been content to dawdle at his practising, or even to work -with moderate zest, his experience might have proved no different from -that of most music students; but he did nothing by halves, and whether -he worked or whether he played, whether he studied grammar or whether he -led the games at school, he attacked the enterprise with such force that -he usually came off victorious. Bringing this same determination to bear -upon his music, he soon left his fellow-students far behind; and -practising hour after hour and day after day, with his mind set upon -conquering all obstacles as soon as they appeared, he climbed and -presently leaped into musicianly skill. Some of his music mates -complained that Sebastian learned more in one week than they did in -three or four, and their conclusion was wholly correct; but while they -grumbled they forgot that he daily spent twice as many hours at the -organ as did any one of them, toiling steadily, unfalteringly, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>until he -had acquired a skill far exceeding theirs.</p> - -<p>He was such a good comrade, however, that they readily forgave him his -musical progress, and in every game and contest on the playground he was -eagerly sought as an ally.</p> - -<p>Strangely enough, as Sebastian's facility increased, his teacher's brow -clouded. The boy could not understand why his brother was more plainly -vexed over a perfect lesson than with a faulty one. In the beginning -Christoff had cheered Sebastian on, but of late he had grown crabbed and -irritable, and the lessons had come to be hours of harsh and sneering -criticism. Sebastian did not dream that his brother was jealous, but -this was really the case; and Christoff heard the boy's lessons with -deepening anxiety and distaste. Never, however, until to-day had the -organist admitted, even to himself, that he was afraid of his younger -brother, that he dreaded lest he himself should be outstripped by his -pupil.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p><p>When Sebastian opened the door of the great kitchen, which served the -family for dining-room and living-room as well, a savory odor floated -out to greet him.</p> - -<p>"Hurrah for the goose, Schwester! I hope it is nearly done!" he cried, -throwing down his music and hanging his cap and cloak on a peg beside -the door.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Bach was kneeling before the open fireplace, busily engaged in -turning the fowl that browned so temptingly above the blaze; but upon -Sebastian's entrance, she rose and approached him with a troubled look.</p> - -<p>"Christoff is very angry with you," she whispered, indicating the -chamber above with a motion of her hand.</p> - -<p>"Angry with me? What for? What's wrong?" exclaimed Sebastian astonished. -Before she could reply, a door above was heard to open, and down the -wooden stairway at the end of the kitchen rushed Christoff Bach, his -face purple, his eyes gleaming.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p><p>Seizing Sebastian roughly by the arm, he loudly demanded,—</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by stealing my pieces, and trying to learn them behind -my back, so that the town can laugh at me when you perform?"</p> - -<p>"Steal! Laugh!" echoed Sebastian blankly, unable to comprehend his -brother's meaning.</p> - -<p>"Don't pretend to be innocent! You can't hoodwink me any longer, my -young cub. I'll see that nothing like this occurs again."</p> - -<p>"What have I done, Christoff? I don't know what you mean."</p> - -<p>"You stole my book that I copied at Arnstadt, taking pains to lay hold -of it while I was safe at Gotha."</p> - -<p>"I didn't <i>steal</i> it," returned Sebastian horrified.</p> - -<p>"You didn't? What do you call your going into my room, taking music -without my permission, and practising it while I am out of town?"</p> - -<p>"I didn't suppose you would care a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> bit. I thought if I learned one or -two of Pachelbel's fugues, it would be a nice surprise for you when you -came back from Gotha."</p> - -<p>"A nice surprise! Ha, ha! Ho, ho! I suppose that next time I go from -home for a week you will surprise me by pilfering the contents of my -money-drawer."</p> - -<p>"I <i>didn't</i> steal, I <i>didn't steal</i> the book," protested Sebastian, -paling under the sting of his brother's taunt.</p> - -<p>"No, no, Christoff, I'm sure the boy meant no harm," interposed Mrs. -Bach, touching her husband's arm with a coaxing gesture; "I knew that he -borrowed your music book, but I thought also that you would be pleased -with his desire to study it."</p> - -<p>"Then you, too, are engaged in a plot to ruin me!" shrieked the -organist, carried quite beyond himself by the fury of his jealousy; -"I'll see whether I am not to be master in my own house. If I can't -leave my belongings in my room without fear that my brother will use<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> -them expressly to injure me, and that my wife will help him along with -the scheme, I'll begin to put them out of reach!"</p> - -<p>Snatching up Sebastian's music bag, Christoff, too impatient to loose -its fastenings of hook and tape, ripped it apart, seized his roll of -manuscript, thrust it into the shelf of a side cupboard, slammed the -steel wicker door, locked it grimly, and pocketed the key.</p> - -<p>"Let's have dinner," he growled, drawing out his chair noisily, and -dropping into his place at table without a glance toward either member -of his household.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Bach brought on the steaming goose, but everybody was dismally -uncomfortable throughout the meal. The organist's rosy-cheeked wife -tried to banish the gloom by speaking cheerily upon subjects not akin to -music; but Christoff would not reply, and Sebastian could not, so her -brave attempts soon failed, and the room was left in silence.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p><p>Sebastian's appetite was gone, and as soon as possible he hurried away -to his own room, where, deeply dejected, he sat with his face buried in -his folded arms.</p> - -<p>As the shade of twilight fell across his bowed figure, a quick footstep -sounded behind him, and a soft hand was laid upon his head.</p> - -<p>"Come, Bübchen," said Mrs. Bach kindly, "don't worry any more. Christoff -didn't mean all that he said to-day, and he is sorry that he spoke as he -did. See, I have brought you a bowl of bread and milk, for I noticed -that you ate no dinner. So now forgive Christoff for what he said when -he was angry, and forget all that happened this afternoon. If you act -toward him just as usual, he will do the same with you, and we shall all -be happy again."</p> - -<p>Sebastian eagerly raised his head.</p> - -<p>"He won't think me a thief any longer?"</p> - -<p>"No, no. Certainly not. After he had cooled down a bit I explained to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> -him what you meant by borrowing his book, and how hard you practised to -learn the second fugue against his return; and he said that he believed -that you were truly honest, and he was sorry that he had accused you -wrongfully."</p> - -<p>"And he'll let me use his book hereafter, and learn to play the fugues?" -cried Sebastian joyfully.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Bach shook her head slowly, her blue eyes fixed sorrowfully upon -the boy.</p> - -<p>"No," she said, "you cannot use his book any more. He said that he would -never scold you again for having taken it last week, but that you must -send him your promise never to play out of it again."</p> - -<p>"Schwester!" ejaculated the boy in keen distress, "why does he forbid me -to use it?"</p> - -<p>"I do not know; I do not know."</p> - -<p>"I may as well give up my playing altogether, for I have finished my own -pieces; Christoff himself said I might leave them now, and I have no -others to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> study. Music is so costly that I cannot buy any for -myself,—yes, I may as well forget that I wished to be a great, great -musician. Schwester!" The boy's eyes kindled and his cheeks glowed as he -continued ardently,—</p> - -<p>"I'd like to play so wonderfully by the time I'm a man that whole -audiences would sometimes smile and sometimes cry with the sweetness of -my music, and little children would drop their toys in the street and -stand in my garden listening. But how can I learn without any music to -study?"</p> - -<p>"Buy a book from the cantor with the money you earned to-day in the -parade," suggested Mrs. Bach hopefully.</p> - -<p>Sebastian shook his head. "I can't," he explained, "because I gave half -of it to Georg Erdmann, so that he might go to Gotha to visit his -grandmother, and I paid the rest to a gardener for a present that I -brought home yesterday for you."</p> - -<p>Throwing open the door of his closet, Sebastian stepped inside, and -quickly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> emerged, bearing in his arms a tiny rose-tree in full bloom.</p> - -<p>"I got it for your New Year's gift, and meant to put it on the dinner -table, but the trouble with Christoff made me forget all about it."</p> - -<p>"Oh, oh, it is a beautiful present, and so fragrant, so fragrant! But, -Bübchen," she said in a fondly chiding tone, "you should not have spent -your pennies for me; I have so much and you so little."</p> - -<p>"I have you, and—and Christoff, and music," returned Sebastian soberly.</p> - -<p>"You are truly a man, and surely a baby," said Mrs. Bach, laughing -merrily. At sound of a voice from below stairs she grew instantly -serious.</p> - -<p>"Christoff is calling me, and I must go down. You promise, Sebastian, -never to play out of his book again?"</p> - -<p>The boy nodded quickly.</p> - -<p>"I promise," he said.</p> - -<p>After she had gone Sebastian sat for hours, thinking. Again and again -he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> lived over the bitter scene of the afternoon, wincing painfully -every time that memory whispered the word "<i>stole</i>." The murmur of -voices below ceased finally, and he realized that the rest of the -household was wrapped in sleep. He lighted his candle and tried to study -his lessons for school, but a sense of sickening disappointment bore -down upon him so heavily that, though his eyes sternly travelled the -printed lines, his mind had room for no other thoughts than these,—</p> - -<p>"I cannot play. I have no music."</p> - -<p>He was startled from his reverie by the sound of a piteous whine. He -listened for a repetition of the plaint, and when the whine expanded to -a howl, Sebastian leaped from his chair, and dashed through the corridor -and down the kitchen stair, with a pang of recollection.</p> - -<p>"I forgot to let Grubel in, and it's bitter cold outside!"</p> - -<p>He made his way swiftly through the dark room, unbolted the outer door, -and flung it wide.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p><p>A huge St. Bernard bounded into the room, and Sebastian, brushing the -snow from the shaggy coat, caressed his pet affectionately.</p> - -<p>"Now, Grubel, Schwester doesn't like you to stay in this room. Come -along, old fellow, into the passage!"</p> - -<p>The dog obediently followed his master across the dark kitchen, and -trotted through the door that Sebastian held open for him.</p> - -<p>As the boy sought the stairway again, his attention was arrested by a -flood of moonlight pouring through the uncurtained pane and illuminating -one of the much-used music sheets that had fallen from the bag which -Christoff had thrown into the window-sill after locking his own book -behind the wicker door.</p> - -<p>"How bright the night is," thought Sebastian. "One could read the notes, -I believe, without a candle."</p> - -<p>Bending over the pages, he found it to be quite true that the dots and -lines were clearly definable.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p><p>"I wonder if I could write well by such a light; I'll try it," and idly -lifting a pen from his sister's table, he dipped it and scribbled his -name across the top of the music sheet.</p> - -<p>"Very good," observed he, eyeing the scrawl with admiration; then a -thought shot through his brain that seemed to turn him to stone, for he -stood motionless, with head thrown back and pen uplifted, while the -silvery moonlight, bathing him from head to foot, transfixed him into a -marble statue of expectancy.</p> - -<p>"I wonder if I could, I wonder if I could!" he whispered excitedly. -"I'll try now, this very night. If I could get hold of Christoff's -fugues, and copy them here in the moonlight, I should have a book of my -own, and still keep my promise not to play out of his."</p> - -<p>Turning to the cupboard that held the coveted treasure, Sebastian gazed -wistfully into its second shelf. The doors were of strong steel lattice -work, and Sebastian saw that it would be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>impossible either to insert -his hand through the finely interlaced bars, or to bend them in the hope -of securing a wider opening.</p> - -<p>The boy's burning desire to obtain the music, and his sense of the -justice of his purpose, would not let him draw back without a mighty -effort.</p> - -<p>Casting about for some means of assistance, his eye fell upon his -brother's violin case. Opening this, he hastily extracted the bow, -strong and slender, inserted it between the powerful wires, deftly -worked the roll of music to and fro, drawing it ever nearer until it lay -at the outer edge of the shelf. Slipping one finger and thumb through -the mesh, he seized the roll firmly and drew it from the cabinet. For a -moment he could do nothing but hug the volume madly to his breast, in -the joy of his accomplishment; then running noiselessly up to his room -for copy-paper, he speedily returned, spread the sheets before him on -his sister's table, drew up a chair, and set to work.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p><p>Swiftly and steadily he wrote, bending very low above the page, that he -might read his text correctly. He took no note of the flight of time, -but as the moon rose higher in the heavens, his pages grew shadowy, and -he was obliged to draw the table into the sheen of her passing radiance. -The fire died out, the room grew cold, and the boy from time to time -threw down his pen, and beat and blew upon his benumbed fingers, warming -them to further activity.</p> - -<p>At last the light failed utterly, and in the gloom Sebastian rose, -carefully rolled his brother's manuscript, strapped it as usual, pushed -it through the lattice, adjusted it to its former position by aid of the -violin bow, gathered up his freshly written sheets, and crept cautiously -to his room.</p> - -<p>Next morning he met his brother at breakfast, and Christoff secretly -wondered that the boy wore so cheerful a countenance. No reference was -made to the distressing scene of yesterday, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> the brothers set off -together, Christoff on his way to a pupil, and Sebastian to school, -quite as though the painful episode had not happened.</p> - -<p>Sebastian attended his various classes like one in a dream, for his mind -was filled with his daring enterprise, and the tremendous effort he must -put forth before his book should be completed.</p> - -<p>His zeal did not abate, and at evening he waited breathlessly until the -household fell into heavy slumber; then once again he stole down to the -kitchen, arranged his materials at the window, and toiled feverishly -until the white light faded.</p> - -<p>Night after night he repeated his adventurous vigil, and no one of the -family suspected that anything extraordinary was taking place in the -house.</p> - -<p>To Sebastian's surprise, he discovered that the moon rose later each -night; and ere long he was obliged to wait up so late for his shimmering -torch that he was forced to bathe his face in icy water,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> tramp up and -down his chamber, and bite his tongue severely in order to keep awake. -Even these heroic measures failed when the moon was delayed until the -middle of the night; and Sebastian realized with dismay that he must set -his work aside until the time in the following month when his friendly -lantern would begin again to mount the sky at an early hour.</p> - -<p>Laboring with such hindrances as dim and fleeting light, nearsighted -eyes, loss of sleep, and piercing cold, the lad's progress was -necessarily slow. Week after week, month after month, he continued at -his weighty task; but never once did his interest flag nor his patience -fail. His organ lessons with Christoff were carried on in a half-hearted -fashion, old selections being rehearsed, and studies previously -finished, indifferently played and heard. Had not Sebastian been fired -with a dominant purpose, and bent upon mastering his art at any cost to -himself, he would doubtless, at this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> period of cold laxity on his -teacher's part, have abandoned his music altogether. But deep in his -breast there was rooted a desire so strong, a hope so pure, that even -Christoff's unjust denial had not power to discourage him.</p> - -<p>If the elder Bach had been less orderly in his habits, Sebastian would -not always have found the manuscript within reach; but though Christoff -took it daily from the cabinet, he always returned it precisely to the -place and position which it had occupied before.</p> - -<p>One night Sebastian barely escaped detection. He had just descended to -the kitchen, and was groping about for the violin box, when accidentally -he stumbled upon the hearth-rug, and overturned a chair with a great -clatter. Christoff, roused by the unwonted noise, bounded from his bed -and made for the stair, pausing just long enough on the way to light a -candle.</p> - -<p>Sebastian was appalled at hearing his brother's step. Dropping to the -floor,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> he crept hastily under the dining-table, convinced that its -drapery would not screen him from his brother's eagle eye. He shook from -head to foot, not with fear of punishment, but with dread of losing his -chance at the fugues.</p> - -<p>Christoff, however, came only half-way down, and stood upon the stair, -holding the candle high above his head and peering about the dusky -kitchen for traces of intruders. Nothing out of the ordinary greeted his -gaze, for Sebastian had hastily righted the chair before beating his -retreat, and the music roll had not yet been taken from the cupboard. -The organist, perceiving no mark of robbers, heaved a sigh of relief and -quickly repaired to his room, deciding that the disturbance must have -been an ugly dream.</p> - -<p>Six months had glided slowly by, bringing their gifts of increasing -warmth and fragrance, when, one clear midsummer's night, Sebastian -finished his book. He was so beset with agitation upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> discovering that -only one page remained to be copied that he could scarcely command -himself to pen the finishing notes.</p> - -<p>"I'm almost done," he murmured over and over, as his quill flew across -the paper. "One line more, and the fugues will be mine! Now, a single -measure, a single measure! One note—ah—it is done, it is done!"</p> - -<p>The monument to little Bach's courage and fidelity was built.</p> - -<p>The pen dropped from his aching fingers, and, overcome with weariness, -he laid down his head beside the closely written sheets and fell asleep.</p> - -<p>His friend, the moon, shone upon him brightly for a time, and in her -pearly beams the tired child's face was as white as the page beside it. -Even she withdrew at length, and nothing disturbed the silence of the -room but the regular breathing of the sleeper.</p> - -<p>He was awakened by a voice exclaiming,—</p> - -<p>"Bübchen, what are you doing here?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p><p>Sebastian started up, bewildered, for Mrs. Bach stood beside him, and -the kitchen was blazing with sunshine.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i051.jpg" id="i051.jpg"></a><img src="images/i051.jpg" alt="Sebastian started up, bewildered" /></div> - -<p class="bold">"Sebastian started up, bewildered."</p> - -<p>"I—I don't understand," whispered he, dazed by the brightness and the -woman's presence.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Bach laughed and shook him good-naturedly.</p> - -<p>"You're still asleep, that's what is the matter. See, it's breakfast -time, and I am ready to put the kettle on. What have you been doing -here?"</p> - -<p>Sebastian merely pointed to his final page, lying next Christoff's, and -Mrs. Bach gathered the truth at once.</p> - -<p>Up went her hands in astonishment, but prudence stifled the comments -that rose to her lips.</p> - -<p>"Quick! Run up to your room with your papers, and I'll get this roll -back into the cabinet. Hurry, for Christoff will be down in a minute!"</p> - -<p>Sebastian obeyed, and from the bottom of the stairs Mrs. Bach called him -as usual when breakfast was ready.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p><p>The following months were filled with delight for Sebastian, who -studied his fugues with ever-deepening happiness. For this practice, he -intentionally chose the hour when his brother was engaged in teaching at -a distant quarter of the town. Every day, when Christoff set off to the -house of his pupil, Sebastian would hurry to the church, and play from -his precious book until time for the organist to return for his own -organ-work.</p> - -<p>Winter had come again to Ohrdruf, and one day Sebastian climbed to the -organ-loft, placed his cherished book upon the rack, and began to play -the Pachelbel fugues.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Bach, walking in the street, heard the music and entered the -church. Passing up the stair, she drew a stool from a shadowy corner and -sat down to listen and enjoy.</p> - -<p>Sebastian welcomed her with a nod and smile, for the sympathy of his -sister-in-law was his daily comfort.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p><p>One number after another he played, and the harmonies swelling from the -organ at touch of his flying fingers vibrated through the sacred place -from threshold to chancel.</p> - -<p>Musician and listener were so absorbed that they failed to hear a -footfall upon the stair, and both were unaware that a third presence was -added to the gallery.</p> - -<p>Like a thunderbolt out of a blue heaven came a derisive hoot in -Sebastian's ear. His hands were grasped as in a vise, and Christoff's -face bent menacingly above him.</p> - -<p>"Again, again, again," thundered the organist; "again you have stolen my -book, despite your promise!"</p> - -<p>Sebastian struggled to his feet, and confronted his accuser quietly.</p> - -<p>"I have not stolen your book. This one is mine."</p> - -<p>"Yours," sneered Christoff; "pray, where did you get a book of -Pachelbel's fugues?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p><p>Further concealment was useless, now that his brother had discovered -the existence of his manuscript, so Sebastian in a few words told the -story of his painful and valiant achievement.</p> - -<p>Christoff listened amazedly, but no relenting gleam softened his look of -scorn. He laughed harshly when the tale was ended, and, catching the -fated book from the rack, rolled it tightly and crowded it into his -leathern girdle.</p> - -<p>"I'll end this pretty business at once," he shouted, bringing his teeth -together with a snap. "Finding that steel lattices are not sufficient -protection against your prying fingers, I'll lock my book behind a door -of solid iron, and," triumphantly tapping the volume in his belt, "I'll -put this one along with it for safe keeping."</p> - -<p>"Christoff, husband!" cried Mrs. Bach, her voice breaking into sobs; "do -not be so cruel as to take his book away. He has worked so long, so -hard—"</p> - -<p>She ended her defence abruptly as her eyes fell upon the boy.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p><p>No trace of passion or grief distorted Sebastian's features, but, -instead, his countenance was singularly serene. Turning toward his -brother with a smile of mysterious power and sweetness, he said,—</p> - -<p>"You may lock my book behind twenty iron doors if you wish, Christoff, -but the music is all written in my heart. You can bury my volume in the -earth or the ocean, but you never can take the fugues away from me -again, for I have memorized them, every one."</p> - -<p class="space-above">Many years later King Frederick II. of Prussia assembled his brilliant -court in the throne room at Potsdam to listen to a concert arranged by -the musicians of the royal palace.</p> - -<p>The program was but fairly begun when a page entered the hall, and -dropped upon his knee before the king, with a whispered message.</p> - -<p>Frederick bent with impatience toward the lad who had dared to bring a -petition<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> from any one at a moment so ill chosen, and was about to -dismiss him abruptly, when his ear caught one word of the boy's -tremulous speech.</p> - -<p>The monarch's look of annoyance changed to one of joyful surprise, and -rising quickly, he commanded the musicians to instant silence.</p> - -<p>"Bach has come," declared the king in exultant tone; "Bach has come; the -mighty maker of music. Bring him hither that we may do him homage!"</p> - -<p>A hundred exclamations greeted the king's announcement, and presently a -man of distinguished appearance and quiet dignity was ushered into the -apartment.</p> - -<p>Down from his throne stepped the king, advancing half-way up the hall to -meet the new-comer. By a quick gesture, he forbade the stranger to bend -the knee, but said simply,—</p> - -<p>"Play for us."</p> - -<p>Without a word the visitor sat down before the piano, and speedily the -room<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> was filled with such music as had never before been heard in the -king's palace.</p> - -<p>Frederick would not permit him to leave the instrument, but sat close -by, in rapt enjoyment, while Bach gave one after another of his -marvellous compositions.</p> - -<p>"For a long, long time I have known of you, Sebastian Bach," murmured -the king, when at last they parted for the night. "Strange tales have -come to my ears of the court composer of Poland and Saxony. I have heard -of the princes who are proud to take you by the hand; of the beggars -that listen in companies before your door; but I never imagined that -music could be such music as you have given us here."</p> - -<p>That night, had the palace of Potsdam had heart to feel and brain to -understand, it surely would have throbbed with hospitality, for within -its well-defended walls slept two who led the world in thought and -action: one was Frederick the Great; the other, Bach the Victor.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Bach (pronounced <i>Bakh</i>).</p></div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>"THE LITTLE BOY AT ABERDEEN"</span> <span class="smaller">[BYRON]</span></h2> - -<p>"Vacation's here! Vacation's here!" shouted George Byron, bursting into -the room and throwing his books upon the table.</p> - -<p>"And a pity it is," returned his mother coldly; "you are so bad at -numbers that you ought to be at school every day in the year."</p> - -<p>George flushed deeply, but did not reply. He had learned that when Mrs. -Byron wore this worried expression it was wiser of him to keep silence. -Doubtless she had received one of those troublesome business letters -again. Such missives always did disturb matters in the Aberdeen -apartment, often causing Mrs. Byron to speak sharply to those about her.</p> - -<p>This lady had belonged to the Gordons, one of the proudest families in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> -Scotland; and upon her marriage with handsome Jack Byron, her fortune -was seized to pay his numerous debts. Consequently, at her husband's -death a few years later, Mrs. Byron was left in the city of Aberdeen -with scarcely enough to keep herself and her child from want. The tiny -rooms in Broad Street were filled with the massive furniture and costly -vases, mirrors, and china that Mrs. Byron had brought from her father's -house at her bridal; but the cupboard was scantily provisioned, and much -thought and labor were required to keep George's apparel in trim for -school. While, however, Mrs. Byron spent only pennies where her -neighbors lavished pounds, her brain and fingers contrived so -successfully that neither she nor the lad ever presented a shabby -appearance.</p> - -<p>"Come, George," said the lady more gently, repenting her impatience, -"put your books away, and May will serve tea at once."</p> - -<p>The boy's face brightened, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>whistling softly, he crossed the room to -the bookshelves. The odd slide and sudden halt with which he moved, -together with the stout cane upon which he leaned, betokened that "the -little boy at Aberdeen" was not quite like other boys.</p> - -<p>Sadly enough, George Byron was lame, a burden very hard for an impetuous -lad to bear. He was, however, too plucky ever to allude to his -affliction in the presence of his playmates, but carried his misfortune -bravely and independently as long as his companions seemed to forget it, -and seldom was any of them so unkind as to mention his crooked feet. -Athletic sports were his chief delight, although there were few that he -could enter. At running, leaping, and dancing he was helpless, always -forced to stand aside and watch when these were in progress; but he was -an expert archer, could throw farther than any boy at the grammar -school, and with the sling his marksmanship was astonishing. He was a -prime favorite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> with all the boys at school and in the neighborhood of -Broad Street, and he was thoroughly accustomed to the rôle, for his -handsome face and fun-loving disposition speedily won admiration -wherever he went.</p> - -<p>He gayly joined the boys in their pranks and adventures, often with his -ringing voice and daring spirit commanding the expeditions, but, to the -lads' amazement, he found his best enjoyment in the company of a little -girl named Mary Duff. She was such a pretty child that passers-by often -turned to look after her, and her soft voice and sweet manner showed her -to be a real little gentlewoman. The mothers approved of this -friendship, for they said that Mary improved George's manners, and that -George helped Mary with her reading. The children loved each other -dearly, and seldom did there pass a day when they two were not seen -together.</p> - -<p>To-night, at bedtime, George said:</p> - -<p>"Wake me early, please, mother, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> Mary, Aladdin, and I are going to -spend the day by the river."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Byron promised, and accordingly the next morning George felt -himself being shaken by the shoulder, while from the midst of a dream he -heard his mother say,—</p> - -<p>"Wake up, wake up! This is the third time that I have called you, and -Mary is already here."</p> - -<p>Up sprang George, all drowsiness put to flight. When he had dressed -himself and finished his bowl of oatmeal, he joined Mary in the -drawing-room with a tin box of sandwiches, and an apple in each pocket.</p> - -<p>The visitor bore a small basket containing her contributions to the -luncheon; and as she slipped off the sofa at George's entrance her -pinafore and little sunbonnet rustled loudly in their starchy crispness.</p> - -<p>Down the stairs hurried the pair, bent upon calling for Aladdin, the -third member of their company.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p><p>As they reached the street, George was accosted by Bobby Black, who, -with a group of neighboring boys, was emerging from his gate opposite.</p> - -<p>"Come on, Byron, we're going to watch the cricket game in Murdoch's -field!"</p> - -<p>George shook his head decisively.</p> - -<p>"I'm going somewhere else."</p> - -<p>"Ha, ha! Ho, ho!" jeered the boys in chorus, and Bobby called out in a -teasing tone,—</p> - -<p>"Oh, you'd rather go with Mary Duff than with us. You're Mary Duff's -beau! Ha, ha! You're Mary Duff's beau!"</p> - -<p>The little girl crimsoned with annoyance at Bobby's silly taunt, but -George retorted quickly,—</p> - -<p>"Well, <i>you</i> can't be Mary Duff's beau until you learn to wash your -hands."</p> - -<p>The laugh turned on Bobby, and George and Mary set off in quest of -comrade number three.</p> - -<p>As they approached a square stone building, a man standing before its -open<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> door disappeared within, only to return immediately, leading -Aladdin, the most captivating of Shetland ponies.</p> - -<p>This animal was George's one important possession, but instead of a -plaything, it had been purchased for the boy's convenience in getting -about. George's poor feet made walks of any great length painful -undertakings, but sitting on Aladdin's back, he could go as far and as -swiftly as he desired.</p> - -<p>The pony was black and satiny for the most part, but upon his forehead a -small white patch was to be seen, and his mane and tail were snowy. He -was so fond of his master that he would follow him about like a kitten; -and he always whinnied joyfully whenever the boy appeared at the stable -door.</p> - -<p>George tied his box and Mary's basket to the small red saddle, and -turned to his companion.</p> - -<p>"We'll ride and tie, of course. You mount first, and leave him at -Baillie's stile."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p><p>Stooping, as he had read that the great lairds did, he allowed Mary to -place her chubby foot in his clasped hands. Then, with her agile spring, -he landed her securely on Aladdin's back. She gathered up the reins and -trotted away, while George took up his walking stick and limped slowly -after her.</p> - -<p>Their plan was the old one, followed often by farmers and mountaineers, -when two persons travel with one horse. One rides to a certain point, -dismounts, ties the horse and walks on, while the other trudges along on -foot until he comes to the place where the horse is waiting, when he -mounts and rides to a second stopping-place, secures the animal for his -friend, and once more tramps on his way. Thus, by changes of walking and -riding, a goodly journey can be accomplished with less fatigue than -might be supposed.</p> - -<p>To-day the playmates proceeded along the wooded shore of the river Dee, -at no great distance from home, but far enough that they were able to -walk on the soft<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> earth, to stand in a forest of mighty trees, and to -bask in sunshine undimmed by the city's smoke and grime.</p> - -<p>The journey was a difficult one for George, for he insisted upon walking -his full share of the way, and, hopping along with his stout cane, he -would sometimes be obliged to lean heavily against a tree or rock, -panting violently and clutching at his support with both hands. He dared -not drop down on the mossy bank, lest with no one near to lend him a -hand he might not manage to get up again. So, after but two or three -turns of marching, George sat down upon a stump and waited for Mary and -Aladdin to come up with him.</p> - -<p>The pony, with his dainty sunbonneted rider, soon came into view, and -George hailed them from the roadside.</p> - -<p>"Hi! Let's stay here. Don't you think we have gone far enough?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Mary, pushing back her bonnet and glancing about the quiet -place, where dazzling sunbeams pierced<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> through the leafy ceiling and -lightened the carpet of gay green moss; "do let's stay here; it seems -nice and far."</p> - -<p>Whereupon the lady slipped from her saddle, and leaving Aladdin to his -own devices, after prudently freeing him of box and basket, joined -George on the stump.</p> - -<p>"What shall we do first?" she queried.</p> - -<p>"Let's throw clay balls," suggested George, rising quickly.</p> - -<p>"Let's!" agreed Mary. So together they scrambled down the river bank, -and heaped a piece of driftwood with stiff clay. Returning, George cut -two slender switches from a willow-tree and presented one to his -partner. Then he rolled a bit of clay into a marble-sized ball, pressed -it firmly on the tip of the rod, and, with a quick fling, sent the ball -far out into the river.</p> - -<p>George wielded his twig so dexterously that he could tap a mast in a -passing boat, and selecting almost any tree, stone, or sail within a -range of two hundred yards, could send his pudgy bullet home.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p><p>His cheeks soon glowed with the fun and exercise, and at every swish of -the withe he called his comrade to bear witness to his unerring aim.</p> - -<p>Mary, following his example, faithfully loaded her switch and let fly at -every target that her fancy chose. Her success, however, was not -brilliant, for her ball seldom soared beyond the shadows of the trees -under which they sat, and never by any chance approached the object she -had intended to hit. After numerous fruitless efforts, she laid aside -her wand and brought from her basket a rag-doll which George had -christened "Heatheress."</p> - -<p>Luncheon followed, and when Mary had spread the repast on a napkin, she -said,—</p> - -<p>"Let's play house while we eat, and I'll be the mother, and you be the -father, and Heatheress will be the baby, and Aladdin—oh, yes, Aladdin -will be the visitor."</p> - -<p>Now George would have writhed with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> shame had the boys at school heard -of his entering into such girlish pastimes as this, but Mary was always -so ready to join any game that he suggested, no matter how much she -might dislike it, that he felt in duty bound to play her plays a part of -the time. Besides, Mary Duff was so sweet, so winsome, that George found -it hard to refuse anything that she asked; so he played "house" with a -will, and enjoyed it nearly as much as she.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Aladdin," called Mistress Mary, as she gathered her family about -the board, "please don't take the trouble to come downstairs; I have -just sent your luncheon up to your room."</p> - -<p>The guest was evidently pleased with the arrangement, for he ate -heartily of the delicious green things that he found in his apartment.</p> - -<p>When the children had finished, they withdrew to the screen of a blasted -oak and sat rigidly still, watching the birds fly down and carry away -the crumbs of the feast.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p><p>Later, they made little rafts of chips gathered from the river, -furnished them with paper sails and pebbly cargoes, and set them afloat -for Spain, Africa, and Jamaica.</p> - -<p>Finally, George drew from the breast of his jacket a faded, ragged book, -and lay in the grass reading aloud from his favorite story of Robert -Bruce, while Mary leaned against a tree near by and listened. Before the -reader had reached the climax of the tale, he glanced over his book, -only to discover the little girl fast asleep against her tree, with her -lap full of wild flowers. Forbearing to disturb her, George finished the -story in silence. Then the book slipped from his hands and he, too, -stretched on the cool grass, with a few stray sunbeams flickering across -him, sank down, down, to the land of dreams.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i073.jpg" id="i073.jpg"></a><img src="images/i073.jpg" alt="Lay in the grass reading aloud from his favorite story" /></div> - -<p class="bold">"Lay in the grass reading aloud from his favorite story."</p> - -<p>A sociable whinny roused the boy at length, and scrambling up by aid of -a slender sapling, he noticed that the shadows had greatly lengthened -during his nap.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p><p>"Wake up, Mary," he called, tweaking one of her brown curls; "I -promised your mother that I would bring you back by five o'clock, and we -must go now."</p> - -<p>Mary assented, as she usually did to whatever George proposed, and in -five minutes she had sprung into the red saddle and cantered off to the -first tying-place.</p> - -<p>"Where's mother?" cried George, entering the house half an hour later.</p> - -<p>"She's gone to Mrs. McCurdie's for tea," replied May Gray, the Scotch -woman who had been George's nurse.</p> - -<p>"Then I'll get Mary to come and have tea with me," and Master Byron -hurried down the stairs and through his neighbor's gate. He returned -shortly, bringing Mary with him; and the children were in the midst of -their meal, when the street door was thrown hastily open and Mrs. Byron -stepped into the room. Her cheeks were scarlet, and her eyes flashing -with excitement.</p> - -<p>"What is it, mother?" demanded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> George, rising, alarmed by her visible -agitation.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Byron placed both hands upon his shoulders, and looking down into -his eyes, said hurriedly,—</p> - -<p>"Your great-uncle, Lord Byron, is dead; and you, George, are now Lord -Byron of Rochdale, master of Newstead Abbey, and chief of the Erneis."</p> - -<p>The boy looked bewildered, and resting one hand upon the table for -support, he bent earnestly toward his mother.</p> - -<p>"<i>I am Lord Byron?</i>"</p> - -<p>"You are! you are! Mrs. McCurdie has just come from Newstead, and she -told me that uncle died nearly a month ago. There has been some mistake, -else we should have heard of it before. I never knew the old gentleman, -for he and poor Jack were not the best of friends, but I cannot think -that he would have had us left in ignorance of his death. Doubtless the -letters and papers will come very soon, and then, my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> lord, you can go -to England and take possession of your castle."</p> - -<p>"It—is—very—strange," murmured the boy. Always he had known that some -day he would probably come into his uncle's title and estates, but he -had somehow expected the momentous event to delay its happening until he -should become a man. That honor and riches should at this time come to -him, little George Byron, of Broad Street, Aberdeen, was an overwhelming -surprise. True to his nature, whenever deeply moved by joy or sorrow, he -grew silent, trying to settle in his own mind whether he was the same -boy who had thrown clay balls in the woods that day.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Byron rapidly explained some of the changes to come, and George -listened as though stunned by the glories of his prospects.</p> - -<p>May Gray, his devoted old nurse, slipped out and imparted the news of -her dear boy's succession to all whom she met.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p><p>Presently neighbors and friends came flocking in to hear the story. The -drawing-room became quickly crowded with guests, and they made so much -of George, shaking his hand, patting his head, bowing to him, and -offering compliments he did not understand, that the boy began to think -being a lord was rather tiresome business.</p> - -<p>When they departed, George closed the door upon the last one with a loud -sigh of relief, and went in search of Mary, with whom he had not spoken -since his mother had arrived with her astounding message.</p> - -<p>The little girl sat demurely on a low stool, and as George approached -her, she rose and backed timidly away.</p> - -<p>The boy looked at her curiously.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"I—I must go home," she whispered, making for the door.</p> - -<p>"No, you mustn't! Your mother said you were to wait until your father -called for you. It's terribly early yet."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p><p>"But I must go," insisted the child, with her hand upon the knob.</p> - -<p>"Mary!"</p> - -<p>George's tone was suddenly masterful. "Are you mad at me?"</p> - -<p>"No, oh, no," she replied, shaking her head vigorously.</p> - -<p>"Well, something makes you seem very queer. If you're not mad, tell me -why you're starting home!"</p> - -<p>Mary looked at him steadily for a moment, then her brown eyes filled -with tears, her chin began to quiver, and she sobbed out,—</p> - -<p>"I can't play with you any more, George, because your mother said you -were—<i>a lord</i>, and—<i>awful rich</i>!"</p> - -<p>Down went her face into the circle of her chubby arm.</p> - -<p>"Mary, don't cry, please don't cry!" entreated George with a suspicious -break in his own voice. "I like you the very same, the very same, and -I'm just as I was, Mary. Truly I am."</p> - -<p>Perceiving with distress that the little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> maid's plump shoulders still -shook with grief, George regarded her uncertainly for a moment, then -hurried across to Mrs. Byron, who sat busily writing at her desk.</p> - -<p>"Mother," he inquired anxiously, "do you see any difference in me since -I have been made a lord?"</p> - -<p>"No," replied she, laughing, without looking up, "certainly not."</p> - -<p>"There! I told you!" he exclaimed triumphantly, returning to the side of -his sorrowful guest. "You will believe mother, won't you?"</p> - -<p>A nod of the head against the pinafore sleeve rewarded him. Then from -the depths of the elbow came in a choking voice,—</p> - -<p>"But, George, you are going away!"</p> - -<p>"Yes," he returned sadly, "I am going away."</p> - -<p>A fresh outburst of weeping greeted his admission, and at his wits' end -for means to comfort the little woman, he declared,—</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p><p>"When I leave, Mary, I'll give Aladdin to you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, George, <i>Aladdin</i>!"</p> - -<p>Up came the tear-stained face, dimpling with joy and surprise.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Aladdin. And whenever you ride him, it will be just as nice as -playing with me, won't it now?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes," she assented graciously.</p> - -<p>"And, Mary," went on the boy earnestly, the while something tugged hard -at his heart and threatened too to strangle him, "let's promise that all -our lives you'll like me better than anybody else in the world, and I'll -like you better than anybody else in the world."</p> - -<p>"Let's!" she agreed; and George took her brown little hand in his, and -pressed it to his lips, in such fashion as he had read that the gallant -Gordons greeted the ladies of their clan.</p> - -<p>The following day came a letter with an impressive yellow seal, -confirming the fact of George's lordship.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p><p>Then followed a sale of all the furniture and draperies which the -Byrons had used in the Broad Street flat; and one morning in July, the -family left Aberdeen for England.</p> - -<p>They were not to go to the castle at once to live, for the Earl of -Carlisle, George's new guardian, had decreed that he should attend one -of the great English schools for boys, joining his mother only at -vacation times. Mrs. Byron did not desire to spend the months of -George's absence alone in the great establishment, so she had taken a -house near the school, where, except for occasional visits to the new -domain, they would reside while George's education was being further -advanced. But now they were going for a glimpse of their future home, -and after to-day, Aberdeen would know them no more.</p> - -<p>May Gray accompanied the Byrons to England, sturdily refusing to be left -behind.</p> - -<p>Mary Duff attended them to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> coach, and the children's parting was a -tearful one on both sides. But after many embraces, and the boy's -promise to send her a letter every week, Mary allowed George to mount to -the seat beside his mother; and as the conveyance rolled slowly away, -she waved both chubby hands in response to George's steadily fluttering -handkerchief, until the coach, Blue Dog, was lost to view.</p> - -<p>After a night spent at the Nottingham inn, the Byrons hired a carriage -and drove out to Newstead.</p> - -<p>When they came to the Abbey woods, and the woman at the toll-bar held -out her hand to receive their coins, Mrs. Byron, playfully feigning to -be a stranger in order to hear what the toll-keeper would say, asked -lightly,—</p> - -<p>"To whom does this place belong?"</p> - -<p>"The owner, Lord Byron, has been some weeks dead."</p> - -<p>"And who is the next heir?" ventured Mrs. Byron.</p> - -<p>Innocently the woman replied,—</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p><p>"They say it is a little boy who lives at Aberdeen."</p> - -<p>"And this is he, bless him!" ejaculated May Gray, unable to keep the -secret; and at her words, the astonished toll-woman bowed nearly to the -ground, hysterically commanding the baby who clung to her skirts to -salute his young lord.</p> - -<p>The Byrons drove through the Abbey woods, which proved to be an arm of -the very Sherwood forest where long ago had dwelt Robin Hood and his -merry men. Past the lake, with its fish, pleasure boats, and the toy -ships which the old lord had delighted to sail to the end of his days; -through the park, stocked with deer for the chase, and up to the Abbey -they came.</p> - -<p>The boy caught his breath at sight of the grand old structure which had -been the glory and retreat of hundreds of monks in the Middle Ages, and -which later King Henry the Eighth had presented to a certain Lord Byron, -who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> had fashioned one of its wings into a princely dwelling. The -visitors drove around the ancient pile, feasting their eyes upon its -Anglo-Gothic beauties; then they descended from the carriage and entered -the building. Guided by one of the servants in charge of the premises, -they visited the dim cloisters, where scores of hooded monastics had -daily walked; the chapel, the cells, the castle dungeons, the vast hall -where the first Lord Byron had entertained three hundred guests at -Christmas dinner; the late lord's drawing-room, the art gallery, and the -mighty kitchen.</p> - -<p>Everywhere the news had spread that the boyish guest was none other than -the rightful lord of Newstead; and wherever George Byron appeared, men -uncovered deferentially, and women and children offered sweeping -curtsies. Mrs. Byron smiled at these with proud acknowledgment, and May -Gray chuckled without ceasing throughout the progress,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> but George's -face was uncommonly grave.</p> - -<p>When his feet became too weary to allow of further touring, the party -sat down before an open-air luncheon, spread for them on a table in the -shade of a great elm.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Byron, noting George's sombre silence, asked curiously,—</p> - -<p>"Of what are you thinking, my lord?"</p> - -<p>"Of Mary," he returned soberly.</p> - -<p>"Of Mary," she exclaimed in surprise; "doesn't the sight of all this -grandeur atone for her loss?"</p> - -<p>"No," he returned, "nothing can take the place of Mary."</p> - -<p>"Then I'll tell you what we'll do," rejoined his mother quickly; "if you -promise to study well at school, and bring in good reports, we will come -back to Newstead at holiday time, and invite Mary to spend Christmas -with us here."</p> - -<p>"Oh, mother, do you mean it?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly, I mean it."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p><p>"Hurrah, hurrah, for Newstead and Christmas and Mary!"</p> - -<p class="space-above">One day in the city of London there was published a strangely beautiful -poem. Upon the first page was printed the title, "Childe Harold," and -just beneath it appeared the name of the author: George Gordon Byron.</p> - -<p>When the scholars and students and fashionable folk read the little -book, they were spellbound by the beauty of the story and the verse. -Immediately they said to one another,—</p> - -<p>"We must know him, this poet who can write such enchanting lines;" and -forthwith they thronged to his house to learn what sort of a person he -might be.</p> - -<p>They found a man, young, genial, elegant in appearance and cordial in -manner. A few noticed that he limped slightly when he walked; others -that his features were strikingly handsome; and all agreed that any one -so thoughtful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> and talented should be sought out and welcomed to every -one of their homes.</p> - -<p>Thereupon, invitations began to pour in upon the poet, every post -bringing letters from persons of rank, families of quiet life, -statesmen, professors, and even people from the provinces, urging George -Byron to visit them and enjoy the hospitality they had to offer. The -citizens of London opened their doors to him with one accord, vying with -one another for the privilege of receiving him under their roofs.</p> - -<p>The young lord was astonished at the warmth of their enthusiasm, and to -this day is remembered his saying,—</p> - -<p>"I awoke one morning and found myself famous."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>"TOM PEAR-TREE'S PORTRAIT"</span> <span class="smaller">[GAINSBOROUGH]</span></h2> - -<p>Tommy Gainsborough did a very dreadful thing. If he had not possessed -such a trick in the use of pen and pencil, this never would have -happened. But, you see, he spent most of his school hours in drawing -pictures on the fly-leaves of his books, which pleased the other boys so -greatly that he filled their books also with sketches of people, trees, -and houses; while they, in return, worked out his problems in fractions -and wrote his spelling lessons for him. His copy-book he was content to -keep himself, for he chanced to be the best penman at the Sudbury -Grammar School, and his pages were always elegantly inscribed.</p> - -<p>As the months went by, and his lesson papers were daily found to be -correct,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> the teacher's reports of Master Gainsborough's progress proved -highly gratifying to the boy's parents. But while Jack supplied his -answers in arithmetic, and Joe prompted him with names and dates at -history time, Tommy Gainsborough's ignorance of these subjects was -deplorable, and his conduct towards parents and teachers was deceiving -indeed.</p> - -<p>As spring came on he grew restless under the confinement of walls and -rules, and longed for the dewy fields and fragrant lanes. If only he -might spend the days outside, he thought, instead of sitting mewed up in -this dreary schoolroom, what splendid woodland pictures he could draw. -Twice he asked the schoolmaster to excuse him, but Mr. Burroughs curtly -refused, since it would be unfair to dismiss one pupil to roam the -meadows and keep the others at their tasks. Tommy next tried his father, -but that gentleman replied with all seriousness,—</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p><p>"My son, you have worked so well this term that I wish you to keep a -perfect record until the end of the year. When vacation comes you will -be free to spend every day out of doors, but your education is too -important to be slighted for pleasure."</p> - -<p>Tommy was much disappointed at this decision, and, I am sorry to say, -closed the door quite ungently as he started for school.</p> - -<p>The day was an enchanting one, and as the boy trudged along the unpaved -streets that ran between rows of quaint and ancient houses, a feeling of -hot rebellion took possession of him.</p> - -<p>"Father does as he likes," he muttered, "and I think I ought to do the -same way once in a while. What is the sense in listening to old -Burroughs drone all day about nouns and divisors?"</p> - -<p>The fresh spring breeze, with its scents of green things growing, was so -tantalizing that he paused before the schoolhouse door and thoughtfully -wrinkled his brow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> Presently his face grew defiant, and he dashed into -the schoolroom with the look of a man who had made up his mind to do as -he pleased.</p> - -<p>Finding himself to be the first arrival, he hurried to his desk. Deftly -tearing from his copy-book a slip of paper resembling those upon which -Mr. Gainsborough wrote Tommy's occasional excuses, the boy dipped his -pen and quickly wrote the words,—</p> - -<p>"Give Tom a holiday."</p> - -<p>Now if he had used his own style of penmanship the ruse would have been -readily understood by the schoolmaster; but he boldly imitated his -father's finely pointed lettering to a nicety, and at the end jotted -down the initials, "<i>J. G.</i>," with two short lines drawn under them, -just as his father would have signed the note.</p> - -<p>Carefully drying his pen, he closed his desk and left the building -before any one else arrived. He waited around the corner until almost -time for school to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> begin, then rushed into the schoolroom, now filled -with noisy pupils, marched straight up to the master's desk, and -presented his forged excuse.</p> - -<p>Mr. Burroughs read the slip with some surprise.</p> - -<p>"Of course, Tom," he said, "if your father wishes you to have a holiday, -I shall not refuse permission; but I understood that he wished you to -remain steadily at school until vacation time."</p> - -<p>"May I go?" queried the boy hastily, not caring to discuss the question.</p> - -<p>Mr. Burroughs bowed, but laid the slip of paper in his desk. Tommy, not -lingering for further debate, sped from the room; and when he reached -the place in the next street, where, under Dame Curran's rosebush, he -had hidden his sketch-book, he threw his cap high in air from sheer joy -of springtime and freedom.</p> - -<p>Out from the town he hurried, and soon was tramping through the forest -that furnished the banks of the winding<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> river Stour. All day long he -revelled in the glory of the woods, and hour after hour he worked with -his pencil, striving to put into his book the charming bits of landscape -that greeted his eye on every side. One sketch comprised a bend in the -river, with grassy meads beyond; another, an old vine-covered bridge, -now fallen into disuse; a third merely pictured a broken tree lying -across the sunlit path.</p> - -<p>Occasionally he experienced a sharp twinge somewhere when he remembered -that all this pleasure was stolen. "But then," he argued, "what -difference does it make? Old Burroughs didn't know, and father will -never find it out!"</p> - -<p>He stifled these pricking thoughts as fast as they arose, not permitting -them seriously to disturb his holiday. He whistled, he sang, he lay on -his back and looked up at the sky through the chinks in the tender -foliage. Sometimes he closed his eyes and listened, and the mysterious -woodland sounds, mingled with the purling of the river, yielded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> him -boundless enjoyment. When, however, the shadows of the trees fell at a -certain angle, Tommy closed his sketch-book with a sigh and went swiftly -homeward.</p> - -<p>"I must get there at the usual time," he meditated, "else they'll ask me -where I've been."</p> - -<p>As he came in sight of the "Black Horse," the public inn of bygone -times, where armored knights had claimed food and shelter, but which was -now the comfortable residence of John Gainsborough, Tommy began to -whistle airily.</p> - -<p>Approaching nearer, he discovered that his father had come with pipe and -chair to the front stoop, and was sitting with his face turned down the -street, as though watching for somebody.</p> - -<p>Tommy began to whistle louder, and as he turned in at the gate, his -countenance was beaming with innocence.</p> - -<p>He bounded up the steps with the intention of getting into the house as -quickly as possible, but as his hand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> touched the latch a stentorian -voice said,—</p> - -<p>"Thomas!"</p> - -<p>The boy stopped short, his eyes round with surprise, his lips still -puckered for the whistling that had been so abruptly quelled.</p> - -<p>"I called for you at school to-day."</p> - -<p>"<i>Called for me at school to-day</i>," echoed Tommy, reddening in dismay.</p> - -<p>"I did. I found that I must drive out to Squire Bagley's place, and I -decided to take you along. It seems that you had already given Mr. -Burroughs an excuse from me."</p> - -<p>Tommy's fingers began to pick at his jacket, and he racked his brains -for a story that would fit the occasion.</p> - -<p>"Well, father, I thought—"</p> - -<p>"Silence, if you please! I am terribly shocked to find that my son would -deliberately write and act a lie. Such conduct deserves the severest -punishment. Will you take your whipping before tea or after?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p><p>"After," said Tommy promptly; and accepting this as a dismissal he -vanished into the house.</p> - -<p>The evening meal was not a joyous one for the culprit, owing to his -foretaste of what was coming later. His brothers and sisters evidently -knew nothing of his escapade, and chattered among themselves as usual; -but his mother's eyes rested upon him from time to time with sorrow in -their depths. Once a sob came into Tommy's throat, but he fiercely -choked it back, scorning to weep even under such harrowing -circumstances.</p> - -<p>As the family rose from the table, Mr. Gainsborough, pointing to the -stairway, said sternly,—</p> - -<p>"To your own room, Thomas!"</p> - -<p>Very slowly the boy obeyed, and when the upper door had closed upon him, -Mrs. Gainsborough laid a detaining hand upon her husband's arm.</p> - -<p>"Wait for a moment, John, and look at the child's work."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Gainsborough, who was herself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> an accomplished painter of flowers, -opened Tommy's sketch-book, and laid before her husband's eyes the -record of the day's outlawry.</p> - -<p>A whispered consultation followed, then Mr. Gainsborough ascended the -stair with a heavy, portentous tread.</p> - -<p>Tommy, sitting miserably on the side of his bed, heard the measured -tramp, tramp along the corridor; and folding his arms he set his teeth -grimly and waited for the worst.</p> - -<p>Mr. Gainsborough entered the room and closed the door behind him.</p> - -<p>"Thomas," he began in a relentless tone, "you have disgraced yourself -and your family by your behavior to-day, but I have decided not to give -you a whipping."</p> - -<p>Tommy leaped from the bed with an exclamation of puzzled relief.</p> - -<p>"Instead, my son, I shall take away all your pencils and drawing -materials for a month, and shall see that you do not have access to any -at school."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, father," howled Tommy despairingly, "I'd rather take the -whipping—even two of 'em, if you'll give me back my things! Please whip -me, father, as you said you would, and let me have my sketch-book!"</p> - -<p>"At the end of a month, and not one day sooner."</p> - -<p>Mr. Gainsborough kept his word, and throughout the following weeks -Tommy's fingers fairly tingled for the touch of his beloved instruments. -Pencils and paper were so costly at that time that it was useless for -him to save his pennies in the hope of buying them for himself; and -during the weary days of waiting, Tommy decided positively that his pen -should never again perform dishonest tricks, plunging him into such -trouble.</p> - -<p>One midsummer morning, weeks after Tommy's pencils had been restored to -him, Mrs. Gainsborough appeared at the corner of the garden, where the -boy was busily digging worms for fish bait.</p> - -<p>"Tommy," she inquired in a vexed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> tone, "have you been gathering my -yellow pears?"</p> - -<p>"No," returned he, pushing his hat back and looking up at the distressed -lady.</p> - -<p>Now Tommy was guilty of so many mischievous doings that when anything -went wrong about the place he was always suspected of being in the plot -somewhere, though sometimes he was truly innocent, as happened to be the -case just now.</p> - -<p>"No," he repeated, "I haven't touched a single one of the yellow pears. -Honor bright!"</p> - -<p>"Then some one else has," declared Mrs. Gainsborough. "For three days, -since they have been ripening so beautifully, I have tried to find -enough to fill a fancy basket for the dean; and although each evening I -have seen ten or twelve that would be perfect in another day, I have -gone the following morning to gather them, and have found only hard and -green ones hanging. The other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> children know nothing about it, so I -suppose some one has stolen the pears. It is too provoking!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Gainsborough turned away, and her son went on with his digging, -giving no further thought to the missing fruit.</p> - -<p>The next morning he awoke very early, so early that the great red sun -was just peeping over the hill. He turned drowsily on his pillow and was -preparing to launch into another delicious nap, when it occurred to him -that sunrise was a capital time for the drawing of shadows.</p> - -<p>Instantly he scrambled out of bed, and five minutes later was on his way -through the orchard with his sketch-book under his arm.</p> - -<p>Dew lay thickly upon the grass and leaves, and even the ruddy fruit -hanging overhead sparkled brightly as the first rays of the sun shone -upon its clinging drops.</p> - -<p>"Now for the shadows," thought Tommy, glancing about the orchard.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> "I -think I'll draw that clump of currant bushes, if I can get a good -position."</p> - -<p>He walked up and down several times, trying to find a place where his -view would be unobstructed. This was no easy matter amid so many trees, -but at length he found that by sitting inside the entrance of an old -rustic summer-house he could command his model exactly.</p> - -<p>A few feet at his left, and close beside the stone wall dividing the -orchard from the public road, grew his mother's pear-tree, laden with -ripe, rich fruit.</p> - -<p>Tommy had opened his book, and with half-closed eyes and uplifted pencil -was measuring the height of the currant bushes, when, to his surprise, a -head suddenly appeared above the wall, at the very spot shaded by the -pear-tree.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i103.jpg" id="i103.jpg"></a><img src="images/i103.jpg" alt="A head suddenly appeared above the wall" /></div> - -<p class="bold">"A head suddenly appeared above the wall."</p> - -<p>The stranger cast a quick, cautious glance about the premises, showing -that his errand was no friendly one, then threw back his head and gazed -greedily at the luscious pears that grew above<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> him. As he stood thus, -with the morning light falling brightly across his visage, Tommy saw -that his features were strongly marked and prominent, his face seamed by -deep and vicious lines.</p> - -<p>The boy, accustomed to study the form and appearance of things, quickly -comprehended the stranger's long nose, low brow, pointed chin, and -hollow cheeks.</p> - -<p>The man looked furtively about for the second time and sprang to the top -of the wall. Quite unconscious that a spectator was eagerly watching -from the covered structure near by, the intruder ascended boldly into -the pear-tree and proceeded to fill his pockets and hat with the juicy -fruit.</p> - -<p>Never a sound came from the summer-house, but before the rogue had -completed his stolen harvest, Tommy's cunning pencil had drawn the -robber's portrait, with the narrowed eyes, leering lips, unkempt hair, -and rakish hat, exactly as they had impressed him at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> the moment when -the vagabond stood gazing aloft at the fruit overhead. Tommy finished -the sketch with a few hasty strokes, then closed his book and burst -suddenly from the summer-house, shouting "Wow, wow!" at the top of his -voice.</p> - -<p>Down leaped the man to the earth, and scaling the wall at a bound, he -fled, dropping many of the pears as he ran.</p> - -<p>Tommy's unearthly shrieks had roused the household, and he hurriedly -explained to his mother the cause of her daily vanishing pears, -displaying his sketch as proof of his argument.</p> - -<p>An hour later Mr. Gainsborough opened Tommy's book before the squire, -pointed to the drawing upon the last page, and related the story of the -boy's early morning experience.</p> - -<p>The squire immediately recognized the picture as of a ne'er-do-weel who -had been loitering about Sudbury for some time, and who had more than -once been convicted of petty thieving.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p><p>"I'll send for him," declared the magistrate; and that very afternoon -the offender was brought in.</p> - -<p>Mr. Gainsborough accused him of invading his orchard and attempting to -carry away his fruit; but the culprit stoutly denied all knowledge of -the episode.</p> - -<p>Quietly the squire opened Tommy's book, and held it before the -defendant's astonished gaze.</p> - -<p>He uttered a baffled whine, then, with a laugh that was like a snarl, he -admitted his guilt of the morning, and also confessed to having robbed -the pear-tree upon three previous occasions.</p> - -<p>"My man," announced the squire sternly, "I shall let you go free this -time upon your promise of good behavior, but if you ever repeat the -offence I'll give you a sentence of confinement on bread and water. -There is plenty of honest employment to be had in Sudbury, and I advise -you to go to work and live as a decent citizen."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p><p>The man shambled out, and from that day forth was seen no more about -the village.</p> - -<p>Mr. Gainsborough, concluding from the day's developments that he could -justly afford to encourage this play-work of Tommy's, which was -beginning to take on a shade of importance, bought a large new -sketch-book and presented it to the boy.</p> - -<p>Tommy turned five somersaults to express the warmth of his gratitude; -but before despatching the old book to its future home on the closet -shelf, he opened it and, with his bravest flourishes, wrote beneath the -sketch on the final page,—</p> - -<p>"Tom Pear-tree's Portrait."</p> - -<p class="space-above">When years had gone by and Thomas Gainsborough had arrived at manhood, -he astonished all England by his remarkable paintings. His pictures of -woods and lanes, fields and shining water, captivated the country folk -by presenting so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> perfectly the scenes before their doors; and the city -dwellers were awakened by his colors to the charms of the wide, sweet -country they had forgotten.</p> - -<p>These landscape studies set Thomas Gainsborough high in the world of -art, but when at length he turned his cunning brush to the task of -painting portraits, his fame was heralded from city to province. He -began by making likenesses of his wife and daughters, and when these -were exhibited at the Royal Academy, people exclaimed at the skill and -dignity of the work. Even King George III., who chanced to visit the -gallery on one of these occasions, paused before Gainsborough's canvas, -and clasped his hands in admiration.</p> - -<p>"Summon this painter to the palace," commanded he, "and let him paint -his sovereign and his queen."</p> - -<p>This order from the king made Gainsborough's portraits the fashion at -court, and straightway all the ladies of rank<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> and beauty came to him, -entreating him to paint their pictures.</p> - -<p>His fortune and reputation, by these well-earned favors, rose far beyond -anything he had expected, and if ever a man was truly happy in his life -and work, that man was Thomas Gainsborough.</p> - -<p>He was so generous, so good-humored, so lovable in his old-time -frankness, that people who sought his acquaintance because he was a -famous artist quickly forgot his amazing skill in the pleasure of his -ever-boyish company.</p> - -<p>It was supposed that he had reached the climax of his art when he -exhibited a picture of the Duchess of Devonshire, for this set Great -Britain agog with praise and wonder; but Thomas Gainsborough was -destined to climb yet one step higher in the ladder of public esteem, -and the work that crowned his success and brought the world to his feet -was a childish portrait entitled "Blue Boy." This was hung on the wall -of the Royal Academy, and when the spectators came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> surging through the -gallery, chattering amiably of this canvas and that, they halted -speechless before the boy with the thoughtful eyes, the fresh brown -skin, and the pale-blue dress. The lad was so young, so sweet, so -lifelike in his quiet pose, that not a word was uttered by the critics -standing by. One by one they slipped away, aware that Thomas -Gainsborough had not attained the goal of his greatness by pictures of -kings, queens, court beauties, and mighty soldiers, but by the youthful, -innocent portrait entitled simply "Blue Boy."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>GEORG'S CHAMPION</span> <span class="smaller">[HÄNDEL]</span></h2> - -<p>"No, no, Hans, you are too loud, and Frieda goes too fast! Just listen -to Otto's trumpet and watch my cane, all of you, and then you'll be -right."</p> - -<p>The tone was an emphatic one, and the speaker pounded sharply on the -floor with his walking stick.</p> - -<p>He was a small boy, whose flaxen hair hung straight and thick on either -side of his face. He was panting with excitement, his eyes were -sparkling, his lips were set.</p> - -<p>Before him, on the floor, sat six boys and girls in a semi-circle, -attending earnestly to his commands. One boy possessed a toy horn; two -others, mouth organs; a fourth, a chubby girl, had dropped a tin fife in -sheer fright; and the fifth and sixth clung to drum and dinner-bell -respectively.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p><p>"This time," went on the conductor sternly, "I want you to begin when I -bring my cane <i>down</i>. Now watch! One, two, three, four,—<i>one</i>!"</p> - -<p>As the big baton descended with the leader's vehement "<i>one</i>," a -deafening uproar burst from the obedient orchestra.</p> - -<p>"Keep on, keep on! You're going it now! <i>Slower</i>, Frieda! One, two, -three, four!"</p> - -<p>The director swung his cane vigorously, shouting his orders above the -strains of the lusty symphony. A few measures were bravely rendered, -when the conductor suddenly threw down his stick with a look of extreme -exasperation.</p> - -<p>"Peter," he said quietly, in the tone of a teacher sorely tried but -patient, "please don't <i>jingle</i> the bell. Take the clapper in your hand, -and tap it when I say 'one' and 'three.' Like this!" and seizing the -bell, he illustrated his meaning, compelling the fat offender to perform -the feat to his satisfaction <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>before going on with the rehearsal. When -the bell-ringer had been sufficiently drilled, the director once again -took up his baton and ordered a fresh beginning.</p> - -<p>They were playing in good earnest, for this imperious conductor desired -something far above the discordant blasts that are usually obtained from -musical toys. Weeks before he had assigned to each playmate a certain -instrument, teaching him in private to draw real melody from it; and -to-day he had assembled the six performers in his bedroom, introducing -them to the delight of joining together in a familiar musical theme.</p> - -<p>To be sure, the toys were shrill and piping, the players often faulty -and careless, but after an hour's persistent and perspiring labor on the -part of all concerned, the Duke's Military March rang through the house -in creditable time and tune.</p> - -<p>While the music continued with true martial spirit, the door opened -softly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> and a plump, fair girl of sixteen peeped into the room. -Perceiving the occupation of the children, she smiled brightly and -slipped away. A moment later another form appeared upon the threshold, -that of an elderly, dignified man. His hair was white, his eyes were -protected by huge gold spectacles, his shoulders were slightly bent; but -a close observer would have readily detected a resemblance between the -handsome old gentleman and the leader of the orchestra. One bore the -markings of age, the other the dimples of childhood; but they plainly -displayed a kindred will, energy, and intelligence, although one was -seventy and the other but seven.</p> - -<p>Mr. Händel was the town surgeon of Halle, appointed by the Duke of -Sächse, and the flaxen-haired boy was the idolized child of his -declining years.</p> - -<p>At first sight of the juvenile orchestra the visitor smiled as -indulgently as had the girl before him, entering the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>chamber -unobserved, and seating himself in a distant corner where he could watch -the highly interesting performance. But he turned quickly grave when his -eye fell upon the small director, who was bending anxiously forward, his -whole being absorbed in the sounds that issued from the toys at signal -of his cane. The flush that burned the leader's cheek, the intensity of -his glance, and the strained alertness of his lithe young body, seemed a -forbidding vision to the old gentleman, for his face clouded and he -shook his head in increasing disapproval.</p> - -<p>Presently the concert ended, the children scrambled noisily to their -feet, and the conductor leaned upon his cane, regarding them with the -serene composure of a man who has wrought successfully and is modestly -proud of the fact.</p> - -<p>"We must go home, Georg," said Peter, exchanging his bell for his cap.</p> - -<p>"I'm going to run, 'cause I'm so dretful hungry," announced Frieda, -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>disappearing in quest of curds and seed cakes.</p> - -<p>"You may all go now," consented the director affably, "but," raising a -commanding finger, "we will practise again at seven o'clock to-morrow -morning, and whoever is one minute late won't be invited to my party in -the afternoon."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Georg," wailed Frieda, recalled from the corridor by this edict, -"must I come at seven, whether I've had any breakfast or not?"</p> - -<p>The leader bowed.</p> - -<p>"Whether you have had any breakfast or not," he rejoined firmly.</p> - -<p>The children trooped down the stairs, leaving their chief to gather up -the toys and place them carefully upon the table.</p> - -<p>He was about to leave the room when, for the first time, he discovered -that he was not alone.</p> - -<p>"Father!" he exclaimed, bounding gladly to the old man's side, and -laying one hand affectionately upon his shoulder.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> "Did you hear us -play? Didn't we do well? If only we had a fiddle we could make much -better music. Oh, father, it is such fun—why—what's the matter, -father? I sharpened your pens and aired your dressing-gown."</p> - -<p>The boy's hilarious comments ceased as he became aware of his father's -darkened expression, and he hastened to allay the doubts that he -supposed to be the cause of this unlooked-for displeasure.</p> - -<p>"I know, Georg, that you sharpened the pens, and I believe you when you -tell me that you aired the dressing-gown, but I shall give you a new -duty to-day. See that you perform it promptly!"</p> - -<p>Georg listened in wonder, for never before had his father addressed him -with such hardness of manner, and instinctively the boy drew a pace -backward.</p> - -<p>"A new—duty?" he stammered.</p> - -<p>"I want you to take those musical toys and throw them into the pond, or -give them to some one who never comes into this house."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p><p>Georg was dumfounded.</p> - -<p>"Throw them away—my trumpet, my fife, my—"</p> - -<p>Breathless with consternation the boy rushed to the table and gathered -his treasures protectingly in his arms.</p> - -<p>"These—I must—keep," he asserted chokingly, eying his father from the -breastworks of drum and bell.</p> - -<p>For answer Mr. Händel pointed to the door, and Georg, reading naught but -doom in that significant gesture, dropped his toys with a crash and -clasped his father's arm beseechingly.</p> - -<p>"Father, don't make me throw them in the pond! Tell me why it is wrong -for me to have them; please, father, tell me!"</p> - -<p>The old gentleman's face expressed both resolution and kindness.</p> - -<p>"Listen, Georg. When I gave you those toys at Christmas time, I expected -you to amuse yourself with them as other children do, in turn with -balls, kites, and sleds. But this you have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> failed to do, and every -play-hour since that time you have given to these musical toys. Now, -Georg, I mean to give you a thorough education, so that when you are a -man you may become a jurist, capable of following a respectable career -and earning a snug fortune. Ever since you were born I have planned and -saved for this purpose, and I cannot have my arrangements upset by these -silly mouth organs. Tut, tut!" as the boy endeavored to speak, "no -words, my son, over this matter! If I allow you to keep these things and -play with them, day in and day out, as you have been doing, you will -grow into a <i>musician</i>, and then where will my jurist be? No, no, it is -not to be thought of. When I came in to-day, you were so deep in the -Duke's March that you did not know that I was near. No, boy, you cannot -have them any longer. I would have taken them away before, had I -realized that you were so set upon them."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p><p>"Please, father—" whispered Georg, quaking, but persistent.</p> - -<p>"You must either throw them away or give them away to-day. You shall -have an hour to decide which you wish to do, and at the end of it, I -shall expect the matter to be settled for all time. Also, Georg, I wish -you to see no more of four of those children who were here to-day. -Frieda and Peter seemed dull enough, but the others were too musical by -far to be fit companions for you. You may tell them that I forbid them -the house from to-day."</p> - -<p>At this stroke of fate, Georg threw himself at full length on the floor, -sobbing tempestuously. His father departed without further parley, and -the boy was left alone to battle with his disappointment.</p> - -<p>As the hour drew to a close, he mastered his emotion as well as he was -able, washed from his face the traces of weeping, and hurried out to -call a meeting of his orchestra by the pond-side.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p><p>He would not confess to his mates that he was grieved with the message -he had for them, but delivered it with an air of mannish bravado.</p> - -<p>"I shan't have an orchestra any more, and I have brought you all of my -instruments. I'll give you each the one you've been using, so you can -play hereafter. You needn't come to-morrow to rehearse, for I can't lead -any longer."</p> - -<p>"No orchestra! You won't lead!" chorused the musicians blankly, as they -received the cherished toys into their hands.</p> - -<p>"Never again," affirmed Georg loftily, but he must needs set his teeth -hard upon his lower lip, lest its trembling should betray his stinging -regret.</p> - -<p>"You see," he explained with the easy patronage of a captain who has led -his troops to victory, but who is about to be promoted out of their -midst, "it is not as though I were to be a musician when I grow up. It -is all well enough for you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> fellows to play on these things every day, -but I really ought not to waste my time with them, for," importantly, -"when I am a man, I am going to be a jurist."</p> - -<p>"A <i>what</i>?" demanded his hearers in one breath, much impressed by the -high-sounding title.</p> - -<p>"A jurist," Georg repeated, folding his arms, much gratified at the -effect his announcement had produced.</p> - -<p>"What does a—a jurist do?" inquired Frieda, feminine curiosity -conquering her awe.</p> - -<p>"Oh," replied Georg easily, "a jurist, Frieda, writes down in a book -everything that people ought to do, and when they don't do just as he -has written, he cuts off their heads."</p> - -<p>"Ach!"</p> - -<p>"Their heads?"</p> - -<p>"You will learn to cut them off?"</p> - -<p>Georg bowed.</p> - -<p>"Now you understand why I must give up the orchestra. If you decide to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> -keep on without me, perhaps, sometime—"</p> - -<p>He was turning away with a kingly wave of the hand, his last sentence -unfinished, when a question from Peter recalled him to the second and -most distressing part of his mission.</p> - -<p>"You'll have your party to-morrow afternoon? We needn't play on things, -you know."</p> - -<p>The blood mounted to Georg's forehead, and his fingers twitched -uncomfortably; but he managed to speak so boldly that his listeners were -quite unaware of his struggle.</p> - -<p>"I am glad you mentioned the party, Peter, for I had nearly forgotten -it. No, I won't have any party, and I must tell you—at least, father -says—that—that Hans and Otto and Gretchen and Leopold must not come to -my house any more. Of course," he added hastily, seeking to drown the -gasps of his troopers, "it isn't that you're not good enough and nice -enough for me to play<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> with, but father says that you four are very -musical, and you might make me musical too; but Frieda and Peter can -come, for they are dull."</p> - -<p>"I hate your old tunes and notes, anyway," protested Peter, much -injured; but Frieda cut him short with the excited proposal,—</p> - -<p>"Let's have your party for Peter and me and you, to-morrow!"</p> - -<p>"<i>Have</i> your party! <i>Have</i> your party!" sneered Otto; and Hans informed -Georg in biting tones that he wouldn't forget this when his birthday -came next month.</p> - -<p>Here Georg visibly weakened, for he remembered that Hans was expecting -either a violin or a flute upon that occasion, and he nearly lost his -studied indifference with the recollection. He was obliged to face -about, to hide the sudden teardrops that glistened on his cheeks; and, -marching proudly toward his father's pasture, with head high in air, and -back steadily kept<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> toward his forsaken band, he called out,—</p> - -<p>"I'm not mad at you, but you can be mad at me if you like. I won't have -a party to-morrow for Frieda and Peter, 'cause I like Hans and Otto -better than I do them, 'cause they know how to keep time when I beat."</p> - -<p>He had reached the pasture with the last word of parting, and flinging -himself over the bars, he fled across the green as though twenty scouts -of the enemy were close upon his heels. The mask that he had worn to -conceal his heartburning had fallen, and he was crying bitterly as he -ran.</p> - -<p>Old Kappelstahr, Georg's special pet since the days when she was a -sportive calf, stood mildly chewing her cud near the inner fence. As her -master dashed among the kine in evident agitation, the heifer turned to -look after him, apparently surprised that he had passed her by without a -word of greeting.</p> - -<p>Georg, glancing backward, happened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> to catch that look of gentle -interest. He halted irresolutely, then, rushing to her side and throwing -his arms about her neck, the dejected jurist sobbed out his woe upon her -warm brown shoulder.</p> - -<p>During the succeeding days and weeks, Georg felt as lonely as a -shipwrecked mariner cast upon a deserted island of the sea. -Instinctively, when lessons were done, he reached out for amusement to -the musical toys that were his no longer. Sometimes he heard sounds -arising from the pond-side, where his forbidden orchestra rehearsed -under Otto's direction. That he might neither make music nor mingle with -those who did, filled him with blank dismay; and hour by hour he -wandered about the house and garden, unable to attach himself to other -interests or games. His father required him to make an industrious use -of his school hours, even adding to the regular course certain studies -that he deemed useful to one preparing for a serious profession.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p><p>The old gentleman was sorry indeed when he saw how the absence of the -musical toys and companions affected Georg, and he even sought to modify -the discipline by presenting to the boy a complete set of carpenter's -tools.</p> - -<p>Georg thanked him for the gift, but what was the old gentleman's -surprise, a week later, upon seeing the chest in his son's room, still -unopened, with every tool in place, and across the wooden lid a series -of black and white keys painted, in imitation of a harpsichord.</p> - -<p>Mr. Händel frowned, but made no reference to the matter before Georg.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Händel believed that her husband was right at all times, and would -not have reversed his decision regarding the musical affair, if she -could; but her sister Anna, the plump fair girl who had peeped in upon -the last rehearsal of the orchestra in Georg's room, sympathized warmly -with the boy, and sought to console him in every way possible.</p> - -<p>Anna was barely sixteen, herself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> scarcely more than a child, blue-eyed, -yellow-haired, and a member of the Händel household. Her sweet temper -and merry heart had long before won Georg's devotion, and in his present -trial no one was admitted to his confidence but this youthful aunt.</p> - -<p>Never a word of disrespect or rebellion did Anna utter against Mr. -Händel, for she believed implicitly in a child's obedience to his -parents; but, being of a musical temperament herself, she entered into -the boy's trouble as though she, too, were under the ban. In a certain -sense she was, there being no musical instrument in the house, and often -she felt stirred by the same impulse that wrought so constantly upon her -nephew.</p> - -<p>"Never mind, Georg," she would say, "let Hans and Frieda have the mouth -organ and the drum. Just you attend to your school, and when your father -sees that you mean to study hard and carry out his wishes, he will give -them back to you."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p><p>But weeks dragged wearily by, and, despite Georg's diligence at school, -Mr. Händel did not relent. Frieda and Peter came occasionally, but they -had never been Georg's chosen comrades, and he joined their games -mechanically, plainly relieved when they took their departure. He longed -unceasingly for Otto, who was clever with the trumpet, and for Hans, who -was now the possessor of a violin.</p> - -<p>He became restless and dissatisfied, and his mother despaired of a child -who went about with such a sober face.</p> - -<p>He never gave voice to the discontent that surged in his breast, for -parental authority was strict in the Händel household, and he would have -been sharply punished for outspoken protest. But he did not recover from -his disappointment, as his father had so reasonably expected; a slight -paleness crept over his plump cheeks, his lively spirit was tinged with -melancholy, and from his compressed lips was seldom heard his former -ringing laugh.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p><p>Every one in the house noticed the change, but all except Anna thought -the mood would presently pass away if properly ignored, and no mention -was made in his hearing of the subject that lay nearest his heart. The -girl, however, realized that Georg was seriously unhappy, and right -heartily did she try to divert him from his consuming desire.</p> - -<p>One November afternoon, as Georg sat studying before the sitting-room -fire with his mother, who had fallen asleep over her knitting, his -attention was attracted by a pebble being thrown against the window. -Raising his eyes, he beheld his aunt beckoning to him from the garden. -Down went the book and out went the boy.</p> - -<p>"What is it, Aunt Anna?"</p> - -<p>For answer, the girl caught him about the neck and whirled him madly up -and down the gravelled path.</p> - -<p>"It's a secret, Georg, the best and biggest secret in the whole world. -Nobody is to know it but you and me, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> it is so lovely that I can't -keep from spinning like a top!"</p> - -<p>"Wait! Stop! Let loose!" and the boy broke from her clasp, -half-strangled by the joyful energy of her arm. "What is the secret? -Hurry and tell!"</p> - -<p>The girl stood smiling and speechless, unable to find words to frame her -tidings. Then glancing about to assure herself that no one was near, she -bent quickly and whispered,—</p> - -<p>"You remember, Georg, that poor Granny Wegler died last week. Well, her -daughter, Mrs. Friesland, who came from Munich to take care of her, -called here to-day to tell me—what do you suppose?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"She said that she had found a note written by Granny, saying that when -she died, she wanted to leave her <i>clavichord</i> to me. Just think of it, -Georg, I am to have that dear, beautiful little clavichord that stood in -Granny's parlor,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> and you and I can play on it whenever we please!"</p> - -<p>Georg's face went from red to white and back to red again with this -stupendous news. Afraid that a shout would serve to recall him to house -and book, he sought to express his delight by rolling over and over in -the crackling brown grass and pulling up the dead blades by handfuls.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, however, he ceased his tumbling about, and sat up, his hair -filled with bits of leaves and grass.</p> - -<p>"Ought I to play on it, Aunt Anna? Will father care?"</p> - -<p>Georg's voice shook with apprehension, but the girl hastened to reassure -him.</p> - -<p>"When your father made you give away the toys, he never said a word -about clavichords. It can't be wrong to play on it when you never have -been forbidden."</p> - -<p>Anna's idea of obedience was very strict, and in the present case she -was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> wholly sincere, never doubting for an instant that they were about -to proceed in the straight path of duty.</p> - -<p>"Oh, no," murmured the boy, much relieved, "he didn't mention -clavichords, I'm sure."</p> - -<p>"Now this is to be a secret of yours and mine, and while the others are -gone to the Kirmess to-morrow, I shall have the darling brought over and -carried up to the garret."</p> - -<p>"Ho, ho! Hurrah for our secret! Hurrah! hurrah!"</p> - -<p>When, next day, Georg saw the clavichord borne to the shadowy chamber -under the eaves and set up in all its thrilling reality against the warm -brick chimney, he pressed both hands over his mouth in the fear that his -cries of exultation might reach his father's ears in town.</p> - -<p>When the carriers were gone, he approached the instrument timidly, and -only after Anna had played several tunes, could he be induced to touch -its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> yellowed keys. But when he had once overcome the awe that filled -him at sight of his heart's desire, he clung to it as a thing of life, -passing every hour thereafter that he could snatch from his school -studies, in the company of this glorious toy. In the beginning, Anna -taught him the few rudiments of musical art that lay within her ken, but -before many weeks had passed, the pupil turned teacher, so far -outstripping his aunt that he was able to give her many helpful -suggestions.</p> - -<p>That Georg speedily recovered his vaulting spirits, every one remarked; -but none guessed the reason. The good surgeon supposed that the boy's -regret for his lost playthings and companions was forgotten, and he -smiled to see his son as noisy and mischief-loving as before the -September episode.</p> - -<p>The conspirators were for a time in terror of discovery, but the tones -of the clavichord were so thin and muffled that their tinkling would -never disturb a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> drowsy garret mouse, much less penetrate the oaken -floors to the chambers under foot. No one but Georg's mother ever -visited the attic region, and during this important season, she chanced -to be afflicted with acute rheumatic pain that prevented her climbing -the steep stair leading to the treasure-house.</p> - -<p>The winter was a long one and cold, but Anna and Georg, in their high -retreat, were as happy and comfortable as meadow-larks. Trunks, chests, -old clothing, and discarded furniture abounded there; bunches of dried -herbs were strung to the cross-beams, and cobwebs draped the outlying -nooks; but the great chimney emitted a cosy warmth, and the clavichord -provided unceasing entertainment.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i137.jpg" id="i137.jpg"></a><img src="images/i137.jpg" alt="The clavichord provided unceasing entertainment" /></div> - -<p class="bold">"The clavichord provided unceasing entertainment."</p> - -<p>As time went by, Anna's interest waned considerably, owing to the -succeeding preparations of Christmas gifts, March birthday festivities, -and spring finery; but when months had rolled away and summer suns were -once more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> ripening the fruit and coloring the flowers, Georg was as -intently absorbed in the clavichord as on the day of its first -appearance.</p> - -<p>One June morning he was starting for a day's visit with some cousins who -lived on the most fashionable street in Halle. He was attired for the -occasion in his best suit of shining black satin. A deep collar of -Mechlin lace, a pair of gleaming silver shoe-buckles, and a silver cord -wound around his broad black beaver filled him with satisfaction as he -emerged from the house door.</p> - -<p>At this juncture Mr. Händel drove into the gravelled plaza lying between -stable and street, and Georg observed with surprise that the carriage -was festooned with yellow streamers, that Mummer, the staid mare, was -groomed until she shone, and tricked out in the yellow harness and -tassels reserved for state occasions.</p> - -<p>"Where are you going, father?" called Georg.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p><p>"To Weisenfels. The duke sent for me this morning. He wishes a report -of the state of health in Halle."</p> - -<p>"Oh, father, please take me with you! I've never seen the court, and I -want to go so much!"</p> - -<p>"Not this time, Georg. I have business to attend to, and I cannot look -after you."</p> - -<p>"You needn't look after me," insisted the lad, laying his hand upon the -door of the slowly moving vehicle. "I'll be good and do everything you -say, and Christian will take care of me. Please, father, take me!"</p> - -<p>"No, no! Some other time I'll take you, but this time I shall be too -busy. Get up, Mummer!"</p> - -<p>With the touch of the whip, the ancient mare broke into a gentle -dogtrot, the only gait more swift than a walk in which she ever -indulged.</p> - -<p>Georg saw the carriage roll through the gates and take the road toward -Weisenfels.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p><p>To go to the duke's court was something that he had long desired, and -this seemed a wholly favorable time for the undertaking. Had his -father's denial been decisive, Georg would have accepted it with the -best grace he could muster, and gone on about his visit; but he had seen -that the surgeon was merely preoccupied, refusing the petition absently -in order that his reflections should not be disturbed, rather than that -he cared to forbid the journey.</p> - -<p>"If he only knew how much I wanted to go, he would have said 'yes,'" -thought Georg. "Father nearly always lets me do things when I ask him. -He really didn't hear what I said,—didn't hear inside him, I mean,—or -he would have taken me. I'll go! I'll go anyway, and when I get there -father will be sure to let me stay."</p> - -<p>Fired with this determination, Georg set off, running nimbly behind the -carriage, taking pains all the while to keep out of the surgeon's sight.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p><p>Although Mummer was not very fleet as horses go, she jogged steadily -along, and the boy, following close behind the carriage, began to wonder -why she never stopped to catch her breath and cool herself. Up and down -hill, over bridges, through strips of forest, went horse, carriage, and -boy; and, as the sun blazed down, and the road grew dusty to choking, -the last one of the procession became so hot and breathless that he -feared he must stop or die.</p> - -<p>At twelve o'clock the carriage drew up before a roadside inn; and when -the hostler came to take charge of Mummer, Mr. Händel opened the door -and stepped out upon the flower-bordered driveway.</p> - -<p>The flash of a silver hat-cord seemed to twinkle before his eyes, and -seized with a sharp suspicion, the old gentleman strode quickly round to -the back of the carriage only to see a pair of small black legs -disappearing under the vehicle.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p><p>"Georg!" he ejaculated. "Come out, instantly! What are you doing here?"</p> - -<p>A dusty, sheepish boy crawled slowly into sight, murmuring confusedly as -he rose,—</p> - -<p>"I knew you'd let me go if you thought about it, so I came—"</p> - -<p>Dizzy from heat and fatigue, Georg clutched the wheel to keep himself -from falling; and the surgeon took him anxiously by the shoulder.</p> - -<p>"You foolish boy! What possessed you to undertake such a tramp! I didn't -care particularly if you came. Here, let's go into the inn and get -dinner! You will feel better when you have had warm food and time to -rest. I'll send a messenger back to your mother, so she will know that -you have come with me. You foolish child!"</p> - -<p>The evening was spent in the ducal palace, whither the surgeon had been -summoned with his professional report; and the novel sights and sounds -proved so exciting to Georg that long after he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> was tucked into his cot -he lay wide awake, thinking of all that he had enjoyed. When sleep did -finally overtake him, he dreamed of the gayly uniformed guards stationed -inside and outside the palace, of the massive corridors, rich with works -of art, and the vast assembly room where the duke had held an audience, -while he himself had looked down from an upper gallery upon the throngs -of men and women, the flowers, the banners, and listened to the music -wafted from the musicians' balcony opposite.</p> - -<p>Christian Händel, a nephew of Georg's, although more than twice the -boy's age, was a member of the duke's train, and he had piloted the -small visitor about the place, pointing out to him the things that would -prove of especial interest. He had likewise introduced his young -relative to the musicians, and they, attracted by the boy's -straightforward manner and intelligent replies, cordially received him -among them.</p> - -<p>Morning came before Georg realized<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> that he had been asleep, and with -it, Christian, who shook him awake.</p> - -<p>"Dress yourself quickly, Georg, for the duke goes to church this -morning, and when he attends, nobody else in the house is permitted to -stay away."</p> - -<p>Christian conducted Georg to the organ-loft, that he might better see -the sumptuous chapel and the duke with his richly apparelled retinue -passing in for service.</p> - -<p>The white-haired organist, whom Georg had met the night before, greeted -him pleasantly; and Christian left him in care of the aged musician, -while he hurried down to take his place among the crimson-clad -retainers.</p> - -<p>When, an hour later, the duke sat in his apartment at breakfast, the -sound of the organ fell upon his ear. Himself a passionate lover of -music, he could readily distinguish the touch of the various players at -court; but this soft and unfamiliar strain caused him to bend forward -with a puzzled look. Gradually<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> the music grew more distinct, and soon -the palace resounded with a strong and stately melody.</p> - -<p>"Who is at the organ?" the duke demanded suddenly, glancing inquiringly -at one of his attendants.</p> - -<p>"It is the little Händel from Halle, your grace," replied Christian.</p> - -<p>"A relative of yours?"</p> - -<p>The young man blushed, for he was unwilling to confess to an -eight-year-old uncle; but he told the truth and satisfied his pride by -explaining distinctly,—</p> - -<p>"He is my grandfather's youngest son."</p> - -<p>"Bring him hither, and his father also."</p> - -<p>Christian disappeared, and presently Mr. Händel entered by one door, -just before his son and grandson appeared on the threshold of the other.</p> - -<p>The duke motioned the old gentleman to a distant corner, and beckoned -the boy to approach.</p> - -<p>Georg, bereft of Christian's support, and unaware of his father's -presence, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>became so frightened that his breath almost failed as he -advanced, and he wondered wildly if the trembling of his knees could be -detected by the company. He carried his black beaver on his arm, as he -had seen the courtiers do, and when he came within a few feet of the -ducal chair, he bowed with a curious little bob that set the whole room -laughing.</p> - -<p>"Silence!" commanded the duke sternly; then turning, he kindly asked his -small auditor what his name might be.</p> - -<p>"Georg Friedrich Händel," replied the boy tremulously, but with the -sound of his own voice his terror dissolved, and he stood before the -Duke of Sächse with respectful composure.</p> - -<p>"When did you learn to play the organ, my manikin?"</p> - -<p>"This morning, your grace."</p> - -<p>"This morning!" echoed the duke, astounded. "Can it be true that you -have never tried the instrument before to-day?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p><p>"Well, you see, we have no organ at home," returned Georg -apologetically.</p> - -<p>The duke studied him for a moment, as though seeking for traces of -falsehood, but Georg's utter simplicity was strangely convincing.</p> - -<p>Quietly the duke put his next question.</p> - -<p>"Upon what instruments <i>have</i> you played before?"</p> - -<p>"Last winter and this summer I have played every day on my aunt's -clavichord, your grace."</p> - -<p>Here a loud gasp was heard from a distant corner, but the duke frowned -for silence.</p> - -<p>"And what before the clavichord, my boy?"</p> - -<p>"A mouth organ, a tin trumpet, a fife, a drum, and a dinner-bell, your -grace."</p> - -<p>A dozen irrepressible titters burst from the attendants, but the duke -grew very grave.</p> - -<p>"And that is all, lad?"</p> - -<p>"All, your grace."</p> - -<p>"No lessons?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p><p>"No—except when Aunt Anna and I taught each other. But you mustn't -tell father about the clavichord, your grace, because it is a secret, -and father told me to give away my own instruments, and Aunt Anna -wouldn't like to give away her clavichord, so please don't let him know -about it."</p> - -<p>"I am afraid that he knows already," said the duke, smiling; and at his -signal, the Halle surgeon emerged from his corner, pale with amazement.</p> - -<p>Georg was so confounded at sight of his parent, that, unable to meet his -expected look of condemnation, he buried his face in the folds of the -duke's breakfast cloth.</p> - -<p>"I am sorry, Mr. Händel," said the duke, "that I betrayed the child's -secret. Had I known there was anything confidential in the interview, I -should have held it in private. But now that the mischief is done, will -you tell me why you oppose the musical study that Georg desires?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p><p>"Merely, your grace, because he neglects his school for music when I -allow it. I am a music-lover myself, but I wish to educate my son for a -jurist, and I cannot have the plan interfered with, even by music."</p> - -<p>"Let me suggest, then, that you allow the music lessons and compel the -school lessons, taking away the instrument if he fails at school; and -when he is old enough and wise enough to be a jurist, he will be capable -of choosing for himself the work of his life."</p> - -<p>"I thank you, your grace! The advice is fair and judicious, and I shall -be happy to act upon it. If I have made a mistake, it was out of concern -for the child's best good, your grace."</p> - -<p>"An error on the safe side, Mr. Händel. A-ha, my small minstrel, do you -hear how your father and I have arranged matters?"</p> - -<p>Georg had not fully understood the conversation, but he gathered that -the duke had somehow persuaded the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>surgeon to allow his little son to -play upon the clavichord as much as he wished, if he were faithful at -school.</p> - -<p>"Does the prospect please you?" asked the duke, his eyes twinkling.</p> - -<p>"It does, it does!" cried Georg, his face radiant. "I am obliged to your -grace, and I am sure that you are almost as good and fine a person as my -Aunt Anna."</p> - -<p class="space-above">One night, in London, a concert was given at a certain music-hall, and -the money earned from the sale of tickets was to be used to relieve the -poor children of the city.</p> - -<p>Such a throng of people crowded into the hall that every seat was -promptly filled, and the door-keepers were obliged to turn away many who -desired to attend.</p> - -<p>King George II. appeared in the royal box, and when he had been -respectfully saluted by the people, the hall grew still. The stage was -filled with singers, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> soon the room resounded with the thrilling -notes of a new piece called "The Messiah."</p> - -<p>The people had expected to be only pleasantly entertained, but as one -strain followed another, they bent forward entranced. Such harmonies -they had never listened to before, and the people in the hall were moved -to the point of tears. At length the sounds grew so impressive that the -king could contain himself no longer, but leaped to his feet. Instantly -the people, following the lead of their sovereign, rose impulsively in -their places, and so standing, they waited until the glorious chorus was -ended.</p> - -<p>Throughout the performance, a fine old gentleman sat quietly on the -stage near the singers, listening intently. His face wore a look of -noble earnestness, and he did not smile until the last note died away, -and from every part of the house voices cried,—</p> - -<p>"Händel! Händel!"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p><p>For a moment he did not respond to their calls, but as the hall fell -into a tumult, and the shout increased to a deafening roar, the -white-haired gentleman rose and quietly bowed.</p> - -<p>This did not satisfy the crowd, and from above, below, from right and -from left, excited men and women demanded that he should play for them.</p> - -<p>The old gentleman bowed again, but finding that the audience would not -depart until he had yielded to its desire, he turned toward the massive -organ at his right.</p> - -<p>Before he had taken a step, one of the singers hurried to his side, laid -a hand upon his arm, and conducted him slowly to the organ-bench. Then -it was that any stranger would have learned what all London -understood,—that the courtly old gentleman was blind.</p> - -<p>At the first rich chord from the organ, a hush fell upon the room, and -when the silvery-haired musician finished, and rose to his feet with -another stately bow, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> people silently filed out, too stirred by the -grandeur of his music for ordinary speech.</p> - -<p>That night, in the city of London, hundreds of suffering and friendless -children were gathered into places of refuge, and were fed, warmed, and -clothed with the money earned by the genius and loving-kindness of Georg -Friedrich Händel.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>SIX HUNDRED PLUS ONE</span> <span class="smaller">[COLERIDGE]</span></h2> - -<p>Up to London, one May morning, came Samuel Coleridge, and as the coach -rattled over the pavements, and the roar and tumult of the city filled -his ears, the boy clutched his uncle's arm with delight. Never before in -all his ten years had he journeyed beyond the quaint country village -where he was born, and the dun clouds of city smoke caused him to look -expectantly about for rain.</p> - -<p>His uncle laughed and patted the boy's arm good-naturedly. "Never mind," -he said; "these crowded streets will soon become as homelike to you as -one of your Devonshire fields."</p> - -<p>Mr. Bowdon was right, and at the end of a week Samuel could go alone -about the quarter of the city where his uncle resided, and his ears grew -so accustomed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> to the mighty din that he quite forgot there was any -noise to hear.</p> - -<p>Samuel was the youngest of thirteen children. His mother was a widow, -and gradually she had become too poor to provide food and shelter for so -great a family. To be sure, the oldest brothers and sisters aided her as -best they could, but times were hard, money was scarce at best, and when -Uncle Bowdon proposed to undertake the care and education of Samuel his -offer was thankfully accepted. It was planned that the boy should visit -at his uncle's house for several weeks, and that later in the summer he -should enter the famous charity school known as Christ's Hospital. Many -families sought to send their sons to this school, but only those pupils -were admitted who were too poor to pay for their education.</p> - -<p>Samuel was tall for his age, and very dark. He was attractive without -being handsome, for his striking look of intelligence, his slight, -straight figure and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> ready laughter, earned for him the frankest -approval of friends and strangers too.</p> - -<p>Mr. Bowdon was exceedingly proud of him, and often took him to his club, -that his friends might become acquainted with his young guest. Also Mr. -Bowdon planned frequent excursions about the city, so that his nephew -might enjoy the notable sights of London. These were indeed gala days -for Samuel, and when the time came for him to go to school he could -scarcely believe that ten weeks had flown since he had come up by the -coach from his country home. It is doubtful whether Mr. Bowdon would -have been willing to part with the lad even after so long a visit, but -his business just at this time compelled him to take a long journey to -the East Indies, and he desired to see the boy safely established before -departing from London.</p> - -<p>Accordingly, one fine July afternoon, uncle and nephew arrived at the -great school in Newgate Street, through whose high iron gate they were -admitted by a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> boy wearing a queer costume of blue and yellow. Samuel -had no eyes for the stately buildings grouped about the enclosure, for -across the shaded central grass-plot marched a veritable army of boys, -walking four abreast with military precision. Like the page at the gate, -they wore long blue coats reaching nearly to the ankle and trimly -girdled with red, bright yellow stockings, low buckled shoes and -neckbands of snowy whiteness. Oddly enough, their heads were bare, and -Samuel supposed that they had left their caps behind, though he learned -later that the "king's boys," as these were called, never wore head -coverings of any description, but went serenely abroad in all weathers, -guiltless of beaver, helmet, or turban.</p> - -<p>On they came, more boys and more boys, until Samuel grew fairly dizzy -with watching the steadily moving column.</p> - -<p>"What is the occasion?" inquired Mr. Bowdon of the gatekeeper.</p> - -<p>"The lord mayor is visiting the school<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> to-day, sir, and the scholars -are going now to hear his address."</p> - -<p>When the gayly apparelled procession had gone in, the steward of the -school, a young man in russet gown, came to greet the strangers and to -show them about the place. He conducted them through the twelve -dormitories, where rows of narrow white beds stood side by side down -either wall; to the dining-hall with its long tables, where all the -students sat down at once; and to the office of the registrar, a -spectacled old gentleman, who took down a great book and gravely wrote -upon one of its yellowish pages,—</p> - -<p>"Samuel Taylor Coleridge, aged ten; born at Ottery St. Mary, Devonshire, -October, 1772. Regularly entered at Christ's Hospital, July 18, 1782."</p> - -<p>Then Mr. Bowdon took his departure, for he was to leave the city at -nightfall. Samuel accompanied him to the gate, where he received his -uncle's affectionate farewells, then peering wistfully through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> the iron -palings, he watched the portly figure move slowly down Newgate Street, -until it was lost to view in the passing crowds.</p> - -<p>With the last glimpse of Mr. Bowdon, Samuel was seized with a sudden -panic of fear and loneliness, for never before had he been out of the -sight of kindred faces, nor out of the sound of kindred voices. Even the -page had left the gate, and Samuel clung to the palings in strange -dismay. His attention was arrested by the doors of the lecture-hall -being thrown open and the blue and yellow procession reappearing, headed -by the lord mayor of London and a company of white-wigged, black-gowned -masters and tutors. The gate swung back, the lord mayor received a -military salute from the boys, and passed out to his waiting carriage, -and at sound of a clanging bell the procession turned and wound its way -to the dining-hall, leaving the campus deserted except for the presence -of one young stranger.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p><p>"I wonder if I am to go in, or if I am to have any supper at all," -queried the boy, looking anxiously about, as he suddenly awakened to the -fact that he was fearfully hungry. "Nobody knows that I am here but the -steward and the old man with the book."</p> - -<p>His doubts were relieved by the appearance of the brown-robed steward, -who beckoned to him from the entrance of the dining-hall.</p> - -<p>Samuel sped to his side, and was ushered into the vast apartment where -the pupils sat at dinner. Quiet reigned here, broken only by a subdued -conversation at the masters' table, and the voice of a tutor who from a -desk at the upper end of the room read a Latin oration for the -entertainment of those present.</p> - -<p>Samuel was conducted to a vacant seat at one of the long tables, where a -wooden bowl of soup and a slice of bread awaited him. These he quickly -despatched, and turning to the boy on his right, was about to inquire -modestly how he should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> get a fresh supply, when his neighbor hastily -pressed his finger to his lips, as a sign that speech was forbidden. -Samuel was surprised at this injunction, especially as he was still -hungry, and glancing about the board, he discovered that every other -bowl was as empty as his own, and that no single crumb of bread was to -be seen.</p> - -<p>No one addressed him, but he was aware that numerous pairs of eyes were -fixed curiously upon him. He shrank from this open scrutiny, although -the boys at his table were all near his own age; and reddening, he gazed -persistently at his bowl.</p> - -<p>"Ss—ss!" came in a soft hiss from a lad across the table.</p> - -<p>"Ss—ss! Ss—ss!" cautiously echoed a dozen others.</p> - -<p>Samuel wriggled uncomfortably in his chair, but to his surprise, his -neighbor on the right reached over and grasped his knee with friendly -force. Samuel instantly responded by seizing the stranger's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> knee, and, -fortified by this unlooked-for support, threw back his head and eyed in -turn each lad at the table. There was something in his fearless glance -that caused the hisses quickly to subside; and when the bell rang, and -the students trooped out, no word of challenge was offered to him. -Moreover, no other kind of words came either, for it was the hour of -recreation, and the boys swarmed the campus, shouting, whistling, -singing, and engaging in various athletic games. The most popular sports -seemed to be leap-frog and basting-the-bear, for groups everywhere were -indulging in these rollicking pastimes.</p> - -<p>Samuel stood alone watching, for even his neighbor at table had joined -the merry-makers. He decided that if he wished to become one of them he -must make a bold move; so, marching up to one of the leap-frog -companies, he ventured to enter the game. The effort was quickly foiled, -however, for one pupil seized him by the leg, another by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> hair, -while twenty voices shouted at once,—</p> - -<p>"Clear out! Don't you know you can't play with us till you get your blue -coat?"</p> - -<p>Samuel retired, much crestfallen, wondering when he should be promoted -to the prevailing uniform. He wandered up and down the schoolyard, -watching here, watching there, hearing never a word of greeting, nor -meeting with a friendly nod or smile. At length he came upon an outer -stairway, which seemed to lead somewhere, and climbing it, more with the -desire to get away from the hordes of strangers than to explore the -premises, he came out upon a flat, leaded roof. Resting his folded arms -upon the parapet, he stood gazing at the evening sky, solitary and sad. -Up to him came the shouts of the students and the roar of the city's -noises, and for the first time since he had come to London, his heart -turned back with a mighty longing to the fields, the river, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> -simple folk of his native village. If only he might hear the lapping of -the water and the tinkling of the sheep bells, he would give all that he -possessed in the world. He thought of his mother and of his big brother -Luke, and the vision of their faces came before him with such startling -plainness that he set his teeth and clenched his hands to stem the tide -of homesickness that surged over him.</p> - -<p>At sound of the deep-toned bell, he hurried down the stair, suspecting -that the slender supper was about to be supplemented by a tea or -luncheon of some sort; but he was mistaken, for, although the western -sky was still ablaze, the boys were filing toward the dormitories.</p> - -<p>"This way, Coleridge," called the steward, appearing on the green.</p> - -<p>"Where are they going?" inquired Samuel.</p> - -<p>"To bed," rejoined the other briefly.</p> - -<p>"To bed!" ejaculated Samuel; "why, it's only seven o'clock!"</p> - -<p>"Seven is the hour for bed at this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> school," explained the other -shortly, and Samuel gathered from his tone that further comment would be -unacceptable.</p> - -<p>Awakened next morning by the signal bell, Samuel sat up in his narrow -cot and blinked sleepily. Across his bed was thrown a complete uniform -such as the other boys wore, and springing up, he gladly donned the -costume, and marched down with the others.</p> - -<p>At breakfast he sat in the same seat he had occupied last night, and his -right-hand neighbor greeted him with a cordial pinch on the arm.</p> - -<p>The meal this morning consisted of a quarter-of-a-penny-loaf, on a -wooden plate, and a small leathern cup of beer. Samuel was accustomed to -rich country milk, fruit, and vegetables; but with yesterday's hunger -still unappeased, he could not afford to be fastidious. In a twinkling -the bread and beer had disappeared, and he was unconsciously glancing -about in search of some one who would serve him with more, when he -chanced to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> notice that every plate and cup at the table was swept -clean, and that the lads were shifting about in their chairs as though -anxious to be dismissed. Then it was that Samuel realized with a curious -pang that plates were never refilled at Christ's Hospital, and that the -allowance was always distressingly small. Almost as hungry as when he -had sat down, he rose with the others and passed outside.</p> - -<p>He was about to speak to his table neighbor, when that young person -suddenly set off for the high iron palings. Without stood a half-grown -girl, holding a little basket on her arm, and when the boy came up with -her, she took something from the tiny hamper, and passed it through the -fence. That the gift was in the nature of food of some sort, Samuel -discovered from the alacrity with which the boy proceeded to devour it; -and the lad from Devonshire stood watching the operation with the -strangest of gnawing sensations inside him. Other boys looked greedily -at this <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>spectacle, but went about their affairs as though the sight -were a familiar one; and Samuel, following their example, was turning -mechanically away when a beckoning gesture from the lad at the fence -called him thither.</p> - -<p>"Here, I like you, and I'll give you a bit. Come on!"</p> - -<p>Before Samuel had time to accept or decline, the stranger had crowded -into his hand a hot roll, and was all but pouring a small can of tea -down his throat.</p> - -<p>"Thank you—it's fine," gurgled Samuel, "but I don't want to take the -things you ought to have."</p> - -<p>"I can spare some. You see I'm ashamed to have this stuff brought to me -when the other boys can't get any, but when it comes, I'm so starved I -eat it anyway. My sister brings a little breakfast over every day, for -our house isn't very far away, and it helps out, I can tell you. Here's -another piece of crust. Eat it, quick, for I know you want it."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p><p>Samuel accepted the proffered fragments gladly, frankly confessing that -he had not felt quite satisfied at breakfast.</p> - -<p>"Oh, we never have enough here," remarked the other calmly. "Wednesdays -are the best, for then they give us meat stew; but that happens only one -day in seven."</p> - -<p>While Samuel swallowed the pleasing morsels, he keenly examined the face -of his generous host. The strange boy was apparently a year or two -younger than himself, slightly Jewish in appearance, and very handsome. -He was frail-looking, with curling black hair, bright dark eyes, and -sensitive lips. His expression was thoughtful, and something in his -impulsive manner had attracted Samuel from the beginning.</p> - -<p>"What's your name?" demanded the younger lad, when Samuel had finished -his unexpected breakfast.</p> - -<p>"Samuel Taylor Coleridge. What's yours?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p><p>"Charles Lamb; and this is my sister Mary."</p> - -<p>The girl smiled prettily, and waving her basket as she turned to go, -called back, "You must come to see us some time with Charles."</p> - -<p>Samuel thanked her and promised; and as the bell rang, summoning the -pupils to lessons, he inquired,—</p> - -<p>"How many boys are there here?"</p> - -<p>"Six hundred."</p> - -<p>"Plus one, now I've come."</p> - -<p>"I like you," declared Charles again, linking his arm with that of the -new boy, as they fell into line.</p> - -<p>"I like you, too," responded the other warmly; and so began a friendship -that grew stronger with each succeeding day.</p> - -<p>Samuel was speedily installed in school work, and having been a -book-lover from the age of three, he was placed in a class of boys who -were generally older than himself. With these he made friends at once, -for his originality, both in work and play, won the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>admiration of the -lads. With the teachers, too, Samuel fared better than most, for while -James Bowyer was not a man to be trifled with, having always a birch -twig within reach for the correction of young offenders, his wrath -seldom descended upon pupils so apt as Samuel.</p> - -<p>"But," cautioned Charles, "look out for Jemmy Bowyer when he wears his -passy wig!" He meant <i>passionate</i>, for on some occasions the head master -appeared in the school-room with his smooth and carefully powdered wig -replaced by an old, unkempt, and discolored one, and woe to the pupil -who failed in his lessons or otherwise displeased him while thus -decorated! His head-dress was the barometer that warned the boys of his -moods, and they modelled their conduct accordingly.</p> - -<p>Mr. Bowyer was a conscientious teacher, who desired to give the lads -most thorough and careful instruction, and the boys who studied -earnestly were safe from the touch of his rod except on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> the days when -he wore the "passy wig." Then his temper was most uncertain, and worker -and laggard alike were frequently brought to judgment.</p> - -<p>At the end of a week, Samuel felt as though he had been a member of -Christ's Hospital for a long, long time. Each day was spent like every -other day, and he soon found himself going through the routine of study, -recitation, play, and sleep as familiarly as the oldest student there.</p> - -<p>On Saturday morning Charles said,—</p> - -<p>"This is our weekly holiday, you know. Where will you go?"</p> - -<p>"Nowhere, I suppose," replied Samuel. "My uncle has left town, and I -don't know anybody else in London, so I think I'll have to stay here."</p> - -<p>"You can't do that."</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>"Because nobody is allowed to stay inside the grounds on leave-days. We -are all turned out as soon as breakfast is over, the gates are locked, -and we can't come in again until evening."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p><p>"But surely they won't send us out who have no friends in London!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, they will. But come along, and we'll spend the day together -somewhere. I'm not going home this time, because my people are away at -work."</p> - -<p>At eight o'clock six hundred boys filed into Newgate Street and -scattered in all directions. For those whose parents resided in town, -this weekly holiday was always most welcome; but to the boys who had -neither kindred nor friends within reach, the enforced leave-day was -often a difficult one.</p> - -<p>To-day Samuel and Charles walked about the streets for a time, then made -their way to the bank of the New River. Here, to Samuel's delight, green -fields stretched before them, birds twittered in the trees, and sleek -cows browsed along the shore.</p> - -<p>"Oh, oh!" he exclaimed, "this is almost as good as the real country."</p> - -<p>With one accord the boys snatched off their garments and plunged into -the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> stream. Both were good swimmers, and they splashed about, diving, -floating, and showing their skill in various ways, until they grew -tired. Ascending the bank, they dressed quickly and wandered farther up -the stream. For a while they threw stones into the current, watching the -eddies widen from each pebble that sank into the water; and after a time -they lounged against a convenient tree, Samuel relating stories that he -had read of ancient heroes, and Charles eagerly listening.</p> - -<p>"I wonder what time it is," hinted the latter at length.</p> - -<p>"Not much past noon," replied Samuel, glancing at the sun with the -experienced eye of the country-bred.</p> - -<p>"Wouldn't it be fine if we were cows, with a whole field-full of dinner -spread before us," murmured Charles, gazing at the Alderneys beyond.</p> - -<p>"And see how fat that bird is! He must eat four or five meals every -day!" exclaimed Samuel; then hastening to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> turn the conversation to -topics less vital, he asked genially,—</p> - -<p>"What things do you like best in the world?"</p> - -<p>"Let me see," mused Charles; "yes, I know very well. I like money, -vegetables, and my sister Mary. What do you?"</p> - -<p>"Homes, churches, trees, and old people's faces," returned Samuel -promptly. "What shall we do now,—go back into town?"</p> - -<p>"Not yet, for if we do, we must keep on walking for four or five hours."</p> - -<p>"Let's go swimming again, then."</p> - -<p>"I'm with you," and a minute later they descended into the river for the -second time.</p> - -<p>Both were almost as much at home in water as on land, and they swam -about, teaching one another aquatic tricks until they became quite -breathless. Making for the shore, they climbed weakly up the bank, and -only partially robing, dropped side by side upon the sward.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p><p>Overcome by fatigue, Charles fell asleep, while Samuel lay panting and -composing verses about the Seven Champions of Christendom.</p> - -<p>Finally they rose, languid and drooping, and trudged back to the school -in Newgate Street, sorry that their holiday was done, but thankful for -the supper, however meagre, that would presently be served to them.</p> - -<p>As the weeks passed by and summer slowly gave place to autumn, Samuel -made rapid progress in his classes. He studied almost constantly, not -that he meant to be especially dutiful, but because he loved printed -pages better than any other company. He was born with a thirst for -books, which made him con his lessons eagerly in the absence of other -and more entertaining volumes; and at Christ's Hospital the boys had no -access to books of any kind besides the text-books used in their regular -courses.</p> - -<p>With no fresh stories, histories, or poems to feed his ravenous young -mind,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> Samuel was obliged to dwell upon the tales and truths he had read -before coming to London. He soon became known among the students as a -capital storyteller, and often he would be found seated tailor-fashion -in a remote corner of the playground, surrounded by a dozen choice -spirits who listened open-eyed and open-mouthed to his dramatic -recitals.</p> - -<p>One Saturday in November he was walking down the Strand. Charles had -gone to spend this leave-day with his parents, and Samuel was tramping -about the streets alone. His thoughts were busy with his favorite hero, -Leander, and so absorbed did he become in the story that he entirely -forgot the presence of the crowds in the busy thoroughfare. Reviewing -the stirring scene when Leander swims the Hellespont to visit the -priestess, on the opposite shore, Samuel unconsciously threw out both -arms as though buffeting the waves, and one hand smartly rapped the coat -tails of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> respectable gentleman walking immediately before him.</p> - -<p>Samuel started in confusion at being brought back so suddenly from -Grecian clouds to London pavements, and offered a stammering apology; -but the citizen wheeled abruptly, grasped his arm, and frowned down upon -him with mingled horror and distaste.</p> - -<p>"What! So young and so wicked! Who could believe that a stripling like -you would attempt to pick my pocket in broad daylight! Mm—mm!"</p> - -<p>"You're mistaken, you're mistaken, indeed you are," protested Samuel; "I -was thinking about Leander crossing the Hellespont, and I must have been -swimming too. I didn't even see you, sir, truly I didn't."</p> - -<p>"Leander! Well, my young gentleman, what do you know about Leander?"</p> - -<p>Samuel explained that he had read and re-read all the mythical tales of -Greece, and that he often thought them over for amusement.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p><p>The stranger's expression softened.</p> - -<p>"You are fond of books, then?"</p> - -<p>"I love 'em, sir!"</p> - -<p>"Do you read every day?"</p> - -<p>"Not since I came to London, for we have no books except our lesson -books at school."</p> - -<p>"Mm—mm! Should you like to read if you had the opportunity?"</p> - -<p>"Wouldn't I?" burst out Samuel, with enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>"I think we can arrange matters then. A boy who swims with Leander down -London Strand, causing people to take him for a sneak thief, ought -surely to have books to read," and pressing a yellow card into Samuel's -hand, he continued,—</p> - -<p>"This is a ticket to a circulating library in Cheapside. By showing this -to the librarian you can draw as many books as you like. Good day, my -young gentleman!"</p> - -<p>Without waiting to hear Samuel's exclamations of gratitude, the -stranger<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> was off, leaving the boy overjoyed in the street.</p> - -<p>From that day the school life was made more bearable by the precious -fruit of the yellow ticket. Hunger, cold, loneliness, and punishments -were daily forgotten in the adventures of knights of old. Samuel took -all risks in slipping out to get the books, but, fortunately, he was -never detected, and he proceeded to read straight through the library at -the rate of two volumes daily.</p> - -<p>The ruggedness of his present life, however, could not be entirely -smoothed by stories and poetry. Christ's Hospital did not differ from -other charity schools of the time in its discipline and arrangements for -the welfare of its inmates; and indeed many of the great schools of -England, Germany, and France, whose walls could be entered only by the -payment of extravagant fees, were similarly conducted. Instructors had -not yet learned that young bodies should be cared for as zealously as -young brains, and that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>happiness promotes better work than does -distress. They managed their schools exactly as had their fathers before -them, deeming it the most natural thing in the world that growing boys -should be poorly nourished and poorly warmed.</p> - -<p>As winter drew on, Samuel yearned deeply for his home. He pictured to -himself the family in the comfortable old house in Devonshire, and his -thoughts clung so feverishly to the images of his mother and his big -brother Luke that even his dreams enfolded them, and often he awoke -weeping in the night. He could not inform the loved ones of his dreary -condition, for all letters written by the students were read by the -masters before being posted, and if unfavorable comments were found -therein, the notes were promptly destroyed.</p> - -<p>Charles Lamb was ever Samuel's greatest solace. They met their little -world together, fighting, dreaming, hoping, and depending upon each -other for company at all times. Both were gayly disposed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> and many were -the daring pranks they played on their mates and upon each other. The -leave-days were almost the hardest of the week for Samuel, as Charles -usually went home, and he was left to walk the streets alone from -morning till night. Sometimes he, too, paid a visit to the Lambs, but -finding that they were very poor and very busy people, he feared that -his presence might seem an intrusion, so he usually stayed away.</p> - -<p>One winter's day Samuel was walking slowly round Newgate market. He had -no interest in Newgate market, but he must walk somewhere, and this was -as good a place as any. A cold rain beat pitilessly upon his uncovered -head, and from time to time he drew his blue coat more closely about -him. Everyone but himself seemed in a hurry to get to places of shelter, -and occasionally persons would pause to stare curiously at the lad who -stood motionless in the downpour, gazing listlessly into shop windows. -Whenever he found a deserted stair or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> vestibule, he stole in and read -until he was curtly despatched by owner or policeman. Round and round -the square he trod, jaded, famished, waiting for the hours to drag -themselves by.</p> - -<p>Suddenly revolting at the sights and sounds of the market, Samuel -hurried into a by-street, turning to the right here, to the left there, -bent only upon leaving the deadly familiar spot behind. On he went, -shivering and footsore. On he went, purposeless and oppressed. He was -usually able to gather odd bits of pleasure and information from these -weekly excursions, but to-day the city seemed like a dull and winding -lane, where one had no choice but to walk and walk until nightfall -brought the end. Even cathedrals, bird-stores, and persons attired in -black, which ordinarily proved highly diverting, failed to arrest his -attention, and he tramped the flooded pavements hour after hour and mile -upon mile.</p> - -<p>Finally he halted before a toy-shop<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> whose windows looked into a narrow -court, and was glancing over the display of balls, dolls, and -fishing-rods, when a delicious odor of cooked food greeted him from -behind. Samuel faced about so sharply that he almost sent a baker's boy -sprawling, who chanced to be turning into the court with a huge basket -on his shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Look out! Look out! Would you try to upset a hard-workin' cove?" bawled -the white-capped 'prentice; but Samuel allowed him to pass unanswered, -for with the whiff of meaty fragrance his stomach gave a furious lurch, -and his head seemed about to swim off his shoulders. He swayed -unsteadily, caught blindly at the window ledge, and leaned his forehead -against the dripping stone as he struggled to regain his self-command.</p> - -<p>"Blue Coat!"</p> - -<p>The name was shouted into his ear, and Samuel was dizzily conscious of -being collared from behind, while a strong arm pulled him smartly erect.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p><p>"I beg your pardon, sir," quavered the boy, alarmed at the gruff tone -and iron hand. Twisting his head about, he got a glimpse of a very fat -man with a round red face and protruding blue eyes.</p> - -<p>"What made ye look so hard at my baker's boy? Anything wrong?"</p> - -<p>"No-o!"</p> - -<p>"Must ha' been. You glared after him like a tiger."</p> - -<p>"Nothing was the matter except I was so hungry,—and—when I smelled the -bread and meat—I couldn't help it, I suppose."</p> - -<p>For the first time since he had become a pupil at Christ's Hospital, -Samuel gave voice to his privations, and, unmanned by sheer want and -exhaustion, the truth came out, while tears of misery rained down his -pallid cheeks.</p> - -<p>"Hungry!" The ejaculation came like the report of a small cannon.</p> - -<p>Samuel could only nod in speechless, desperate assent.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p><p>"Come in here!" roared the captor, enforcing his order with a ferocious -tug at the blue collar.</p> - -<p>Samuel feared that he had somehow trespassed upon the big man's rights, -and that punishment was likely to follow. He longed vaguely to run, but -weakness held him chained, and he felt himself being pushed before his -jailer through the toy-shop and into a small parlor at the rear.</p> - -<p>"Mother! This Blue Coat is so hungry that he nearly devoured our dinner -through his eyes as the baker brought it in."</p> - -<p>"Hungry?" echoed a piping feminine voice, and from the farther corner of -the parlor a little woman approached with a napkin thrown over her arm.</p> - -<p>"Sakes alive, ain't you had no dinner over to the school?" she asked in -a motherly tone that set Samuel's heart beating.</p> - -<p>"No. We don't have any dinner on Saturdays. They give us a little -supper<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> when we go back," and Samuel explained the holiday system.</p> - -<p>"What, then, did you have for breakfast?"</p> - -<p>"A slice of bread and a cup of beer."</p> - -<p>"How perfectly outraging! Our dinner is just ready, so sit up to the -table as quick as you can. 'Tain't a fancy meal, but it's good enough to -fill up a hollow, faintin' stomach. How perfectly outraging!"</p> - -<p>Before Samuel could consent or object, he was thrust into a chair at the -small round table, where several steaming dishes awaited the pleasure of -the party. Host and hostess took their places, and a heaped-up plate was -speedily set before the astonished guest.</p> - -<p>"Eat that slice of hot mutton," adjured the woman pleasantly; "and after -that, you'll find those potatoes and beans pretty satisfyin'."</p> - -<p>The substantial repast seemed a kingly banquet to Samuel, and he ate -with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>almost wolfish appreciation. His plate was like the widow's cruse -of oil, which was promptly refilled as soon as emptied; and the fat man -and the little woman looked on, the while, with benevolence shining from -their faces.</p> - -<p>"Now," said the hostess, when Samuel could take no more, not even a -second slice of currant pudding, "while we sip our tea, we'll tell each -other who each other is. My husband over there is Mr. Crispin, and I'm -Mrs. Crispin. He has the toy-shop that you came through, and he is a -shoemaker, besides. We never had any children, and we just live along -here, contented with what good things we have. Now Mr. Crispin is the -best man in the world—"</p> - -<p>"Hush, hush, my dear!" burst out the big man, a tremendous blush -spreading over his honest face.</p> - -<p>"He is, so there! He talks loud and kind o' scary, but he couldn't say -'no' to a kitten. Now, little Blue Coat, tell us who you are."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p><p>Samuel had quite regained his usual bright manner under the spell of -their hospitality, and he gladly told them of the home and loved ones he -had left behind in Devonshire. Pleased to see the Crispins interested, -he described many droll adventures of the boys at school, and these set -the worthy pair laughing mightily.</p> - -<p>After dinner, Mr. Crispin showed his young visitor all the glories of -the toy-shop and the shoemaking den. Mrs. Crispin with much pride -exhibited four canaries, a yellow patchwork quilt, and a coral -breastpin; and Samuel was warmed to the heart by their simple -kindliness.</p> - -<p>The afternoon wore away all too soon, and when he was leaving, Samuel -held Mrs. Crispin's hand tightly in both of his, as he tried to thank -her for the blessed visit.</p> - -<p>"'Tain't nothing at all!" protested she earnestly. "Who wouldn't give a -nice-spoken lad a bite when he was faintin' with hungriness on the very -doorstep, an' him a Blue Coat, too? Now listen,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> Sammy; you are to come -here every Saturday. If we shouldn't be to home, you'll find the key -under the rubber door-mat, an' you can come right in an' help yourself -in the pantry. 'T ain't just that we feel sorry to see you starvin', but -we like children, we always did, 'specially nice ones, an' you seem so -gentlemanly mannered, an' we'd feel honored to have you here. Remember, -every Saturday, now, rain or shine."</p> - -<p>His acquaintance with the shoemaker and his wife proved the greatest -relief to Samuel. Not only did a toothsome dinner await him every -leave-day in their modest parlor, but the whole-souled friendliness of -their innocent welcome cheered him through all the following days. The -Crispins looked forward to the Saturday visits as eagerly as did Samuel -himself, and this assurance gave the boy courage to come with -regularity.</p> - -<p>During the springtime Mr. Crispin and Samuel even planned that the boy -should gain permission from the head<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> master to leave Christ's Hospital -altogether and learn the shoemaking trade under Mr. Crispin's direction. -It was arranged that the shoemaker, instead of Samuel, should approach -Mr. Bowyer with the request, it being thought that his age and size -would carry more influence with the head master; but on the day set for -the interview Mr. Bowyer chanced to wear his "passy wig," and he -disposed of the subject by shouting violently,—</p> - -<p>"'O'ds my life, man, what d'ye mean?" and pushing the astounded Crispin -bodily out of the room.</p> - -<p>Samuel was so disappointed at the failure of the dazzling scheme, and so -mortified at the treatment his friend had received, that he was rushing -past Mr. Bowyer with the intention of apologizing to Mr. Crispin for -having drawn him into his own petty troubles, when the head master -stopped him.</p> - -<p>"Some one is waiting to see you in my lower office, Master Coleridge."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p><p>"To see me, sir?"</p> - -<p>Samuel was taken aback, for never before had any one paid him a call at -Christ's Hospital.</p> - -<p>"Who can it be, I wonder. Surely Mrs. Crispin would not come here."</p> - -<p>Crossing the threshold of the office, he descried a stalwart manly form -at the window.</p> - -<p>The first glance seemed to stupefy the lad. He halted abruptly in the -doorway, his hands fell limply at his sides, and he seemed unable to -advance or retreat. It only needed a slight movement on the visitor's -part to break the tension, when Samuel bounded forward with a great cry, -and threw himself into the stranger's arms.</p> - -<p>"Luke, Luke, my brother, my Luke, my Luke!"</p> - -<p>"Here I am, little fellow. I wanted to surprise you, so I didn't write."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Luke, you won't go away again and leave me here, will you? Please, -please tell me that you won't!"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p><p>"I shan't leave you alone in the city for a day," declared the young -man warmly. "I have come up to walk the London Hospital, so I shall be -within easy reach hereafter. Your holidays you shall spend with me, and -I have already arranged with the master to make you comfortable here at -school. Bless you, little fellow, you mustn't quite suffocate me with -your hugging, for I want to live and take good care of you. I have -waited and worked for this ever since you came to London, and now you're -going to have fair weather all round. Come along; I've just begged a -holiday for you. What should you like to do?"</p> - -<p>"Introduce you to the Crispins."</p> - -<p>"Very well. We'll get the Crispins, and go for a ride on the good old -river Thames."</p> - -<p>"A boat ride! A boat ride! Luke, do you care if I ask Charles Lamb to go -with us?"</p> - -<p>"Not a bit. This is the day when we are going to do just as we please, -you know."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, Luke, you're so good, and you'll like the Crispins, and Charles -'ll like you—and—and—isn't the world beautiful to-day, Luke?"</p> - -<p class="space-above">In a cosy little parlor, at the top of a London stair, a dozen persons -were chatting together. The sounds of wind and rain upon the casement -only served to increase the warmth and brightness of the snug apartment.</p> - -<p>Everybody seemed in the highest spirits, and finally one of the guests, -a man whom the others called "Southey," turned gayly to the hostess and -inquired with the ease of old friendship,—</p> - -<p>"My good lady, when are we to have our supper? Please remember that -Wordsworth and I have journeyed all the way from Keswick solely for the -delight of supping with you. Do you realize that eleven o'clock has come -and gone?"</p> - -<p>Mary Lamb laughed merrily, but shook her head with decision.</p> - -<p>"Fifteen minutes more you must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> wait, so curb your hunger as best you -can. The guest of honor has not yet arrived, and when he comes, you will -all agree, I am sure, that it would be worth while to delay supper until -to-morrow, if only we might have him with us."</p> - -<p>"A mystery! A mystery!" cried the visitors, and thereupon they began to -ply Miss Mary's brother with questions as to who the expected personage -might be.</p> - -<p>To all these, the young host gave jovial but vague replies, exchanging -with his sister frequent nods and smiles over their heads.</p> - -<p>Presently there sounded a quick step on the stair, and Charles Lamb -threw open the door, shouting joyfully,—</p> - -<p>"Welcome, Samuel, my blessed old friend! Welcome, a thousand times!"</p> - -<p>At his words, the guests sprang up with a single impulse, crying in -astonishment,—</p> - -<p>"Coleridge!"</p> - -<p>Then for an instant they turned their eyes away from the two who stood -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>clasping one another's hands in wordless, heartfelt greeting.</p> - -<p>The silence endured but a moment; then the new-comer was quickly -surrounded, and the room rang with the hearty good-will of his -reception.</p> - -<p>Charles hastened to relieve him of his travelling cloak and hat, Mary -summoned the party to the table, temptingly laid, and the guests sat -down to the enjoyment of the viands and the company of their unexpected -friend.</p> - -<p>Samuel Coleridge had just returned after a two years' absence from -England, and the tales he related of his visit, the accounts he gave of -his adventures abroad, captivated the company. Every word that fell from -his lips was received with keen attention, and whether his mood was -grave or gay, serious or sprightly, his hearers sat enthralled.</p> - -<p>"To be sure, Coleridge is a wonderful poet," whispered Southey to the -lady next him, "but in my judgment he talks even better than he writes."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p><p>"He holds us with his expressive eyes," mused Mary.</p> - -<p>"I can see," decided Charles, "that his power lies in his magnetic -voice, the voice that charmed us all in the old school-days."</p> - -<p>Whatever was the source of his singular influence, hours passed as the -visitors sat under the spell of Samuel's presence, and morning was -stealing across the threshold when they rose from the table and took -their departure.</p> - -<p>Coleridge was the last to go, and when about to descend the stair, he -again clasped the hand of his host with a warm and fervent pressure.</p> - -<p>"I am fond of them all," he said slowly, indicating those whose -footfalls still sounded in the passage below; "I am fond of them all: -Southey, Wordsworth, Lovell, and the rest; but you, Charles Lamb, you -are to me as though you had been born my younger brother."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>THE LION THAT HELPED</span> <span class="smaller">[CANOVA]</span></h2> - -<p>"Tonin, Tonin, come out with us to the River! Luigi has built a raft, -and we're going to pole it down to the second bridge."</p> - -<p>Five boys, bareheaded, barefooted, dirty-faced, and joyful, grouped -themselves before a mud-walled Alpine cabin, the last of a quaint -village row, while Pablo, their leader, hailed some one within.</p> - -<p>Instantly there appeared in the doorway a boy of their own age, clad as -roughly and lightly as themselves. His blouse was loosened comfortably -at the throat, his trousers were rolled well above the knee, and over -these cool garments he wore a hempen working-apron which was held in -place by a stout cord attached to its upper corners<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> and passing about -his neck. In one hand he held a small steel hammer, in the other a -chisel.</p> - -<p>"Come on, Tonin," repeated Pablo, pointing excitedly toward the brook.</p> - -<p>The lad in the doorway shook his head and lifted his chisel meaningly, -as though no additional explanation were needed.</p> - -<p>"Oh, do, do!" urged the new-comers. "Leave your old stone-chipping for -an hour and come with us. We'll let you pole all the time if you will."</p> - -<p>"I can't," returned the other briefly.</p> - -<p>"Please come! Come along!" insisted four alluring voices, but Pablo -turned away impatiently.</p> - -<p>"Leave that sullen Tonin alone! He'd rather bang away at his -grandfather's stones than go with us on the jolliest jaunt we could -name. Come on, and let him stay by himself."</p> - -<p>Thereupon the boys ran swiftly down the adjoining slope, and Tonin -Canova stepped into the house with a shrug, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> though glad to be rid of -them and their invitations. He did not tarry in the cleanly sunlit -cabin, but hurried out to the rear garden, where an old man wearing an -apron similar to his was busily tapping and chipping at a block of stone -erected upon wooden supports.</p> - -<p>"Why didn't you go with the others?" inquired the stone-cutter, looking -up from his work. "You needn't have come back, because I have finished -the urn for the terrace of the Villa d'Asolo, and it is too late in the -afternoon to begin on the Monfumo altar ornaments. Besides, you have -stood by your work pretty hard lately, and I think every boy needs a -holiday once in a way."</p> - -<p>"I don't want a holiday, grandfather."</p> - -<p>"Bless us! What are you talking about? Who ever heard of a boy who -didn't want a holiday every day in the week, if he could get it?"</p> - -<p>"I'd like to be free from working on your things, of course, but I don't -want to pole a raft. I'd rather carve my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> cherries, if you can do -without me the rest of the afternoon."</p> - -<p>"Ho, ho!" chuckled the old man fondly; "you're just like me, Tonin: work -is play when it happens to be stone-work. Do your cherries, if you have -the mind."</p> - -<p>"Hurrah! I can finish them to-day, and I'll do a pear next, and—see, -grandfather, by carnival-time I'll have plenty to sell," and throwing -open the door of a small rude cupboard set in the branches of a stunted -acacia, Tonin proudly displayed a collection of peaches, apples, and -grapes which his skilful fingers had wrought out of fragments of stone -left from old Pasino's cuttings. Next autumn, when all the villagers and -country folk of the province would assemble at Asolo for their carnival -and yearly frolic, Tonin would peddle his pretty fruit among the -pleasure-seekers, confident of filling his purse-bag with coins in -exchange for his wares. As he stood reviewing his handiwork, he smiled -slyly at thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> of the gifts he would buy for the two old people who -adored him, and who had freely shared with him their roof and bread, -from his earliest infancy.</p> - -<p>The stone-cutter's earnings were necessarily small, and for two years -Tonin had assisted him regularly at his work, cutting, carrying, -measuring, and delivering day by day. He seconded Pasino's efforts so -intelligently, and labored through the long hours with such manly -patience, that the scanty comforts in the Alpine cabin visibly -increased, and all the while the boy was learning the use of the cunning -edged tools which his grandfather wielded so dexterously. The lad's -name, as it appeared on the parish register, was Antonio, but to the -guileless aged pair who cared for him he was simply and always <i>Tonin</i>.</p> - -<p>Hoof-beats, accompanied by a shout from the roadway, caused the -stone-cutter and the boy to hurry quickly to the hedgerow before the -cabin.</p> - -<p>A mounted horseman wearing the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> livery of the Duke d'Asolo called out, -as with difficulty he brought his spirited steed to a standstill,—</p> - -<p>"Pasino, you are wanted at the villa. Something in the picture gallery -needs to be done, and you are the only one to do it. The duke gives a -great banquet to-night, and the room must be in readiness. Vittori sent -me, and bids you to hurry as fast as you can."</p> - -<p>"I'll follow you at once. Come, Tonin, mayhap you can be of service at -the villa also."</p> - -<p>Off galloped the messenger, and down the road marched Pasino Canova, -bearing his tool-box upon his shoulder, while his barefooted grandson, -similarly equipped, trudged cheerily by his side.</p> - -<p>The stone-cutter was frequently in demand at the Villa d'Asolo, for -besides the craft of his trade, the old man understood something of the -uses of plaster, stucco, and even marble. No other workman in this -remote hill country was so skilled, and for many years he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> received -the friendly patronage of Giovanni Falier, Duke d'Asolo.</p> - -<p>On the way, Pasino stopped for an instant before the entrance of a -gentleman's country residence. "This'" said he, "is the home of Toretto, -the great, great sculptor."</p> - -<p>"Oh, grandfather, let's go in and look at his wonderful statues," begged -Tonin. "Please, grandfather! Surely he wouldn't care, for I came once -with Giuseppe Falier, and he allowed us to look at everything. Do, -grandfather!"</p> - -<p>"Not to-day," objected the old man, hastily resuming his onward way; "we -have work to do, and have promised to hurry to the Villa d'Asolo as fast -as we can."</p> - -<p>Tonin slowly followed Pasino down the road, looking backward over his -shoulder as long as the tall chimneys of Toretto's palace could be seen.</p> - -<p>"Grandfather," said he thoughtfully, as a turning of the way shut the -sculptor's house from sight, "I'd rather be able to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> make a statue as -beautiful as the ones Toretto showed us that day than do anything else -in the whole world."</p> - -<p>"Ah, that you might!" burst out the old man emphatically; "but, Tonin, -for such work the eyes, the fingers, the mind must be taught—taught, -Tonin, and—well, you know the rest: poor folk like us mustn't be gloomy -because we can't do fine works. Chances to learn such things cost so -much that none but gentlemen with bulging purses can afford them."</p> - -<p>"I'm not gloomy, grandfather! You can teach me all that you know, and -when I am a man, I will take care of you and grandmother." Here the boy -began to whistle gayly, seeking to banish the look of sadness that had -rested for a moment on the old man's features.</p> - -<p>Presently they reached the Villa d'Asolo, whose pillared gates were -thrown open to them by retainers. Across the terraces they took their -way, past arbors, gardens of blossoms, and plashing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>fountains, reaching -at last a postern door of the many-storied castle.</p> - -<p>In the passage they were confronted by Giuseppe Falier, the duke's -youngest son, a handsome lad no older than Tonin. A serving-man attended -him, carrying a glass aquarium that contained numerous brilliant -goldfish. Boy and groom were preparing to depart through the door by -which the Canovas had entered, but at sight of the new-comers Giuseppe -halted.</p> - -<p>"Hello, Tonin," he exclaimed; "come with me up to my cousin's house. -This is David's birthday, and I forgot all about it until this minute. I -didn't have any present to give him, so I decided I'd take the goldfish -out of the conservatory. He likes such things. I don't, myself. Come on, -and we'll have some fun. David has a new boat, and we'll make him take -it out."</p> - -<p>Giuseppe's invitation was so frankly cordial that Tonin would have -joined him readily had he had no duties to perform. Giuseppe was a lad -of jovial spirit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> who chose his friends wherever he found good comrades, -quite regardless of rank and riches, and many were the half-days that he -and Tonin had spent together, exploring the hills and valleys round -about Asolo.</p> - -<p>"I can't go to-day, Giuseppe," replied Tonin; "grandfather has something -to do in the picture gallery before the banquet to-night, and he is -likely to need me."</p> - -<p>"My eye, but there will be a crowd of people here! One reason I'm going -up to David's is because I'm not allowed to stay up for the fun. -Good-by. I'll take you up to see the boat some day next week," and -beckoning the servant to follow with the aquarium, the young patrician -disappeared through the outer door, and the Canovas made their way up a -stately marble stair, and through a winding corridor until they came to -a long narrow apartment whose walls were hung with canvases.</p> - -<p>Here they were greeted by Vittori, the stout and hoary seneschal of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> -palace. He wore his crimson robe of office, and a stupendous bunch of -keys hung by a chain from his girdle, clanking as he walked.</p> - -<p>He bustled up to the Canovas hurriedly, puffing and panting as from some -undue exertion.</p> - -<p>"Ha, Pasino, you are the very man I most need to see. Those four deep -niches in the walls, two at either end of this gallery, are to be filled -with the statues which Toretto has just finished. The beastly things -were delivered yesterday, and Toretto himself promised to come to see -that they were set up properly, but instead, a message was brought from -him two hours ago saying that he had sprained his silly ankle and could -not stir from the house. The duke will be furious if his marble -doll-babies are not on view to-night, and as I wouldn't touch them -myself for fear of harming them with my clumsy fingers, I called you for -the business. There, in that further ante-room, you will find Toretto's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> -beauties inside the packing cases, and you are to get them safely into -these niches. My-o! My-o! What a load of care falls on a poor old man -who is keeper of a palace where one hundred noble guests are expected -for a feast! Nobody in all Venetia has more worries and -responsibilities. You may have as many men as you want, Pasino, and if -your eye spies out any need for decorations in this chamber, send for -what you wish. My-o! My-o! The carriages are beginning to arrive, and I -must make eleven more arrangements before the feast is ready. You have -plenty of time, for this room is not to be used until the ladies come up -at the end of the banquet, to drink their Persian coffee," and the -seneschal departed, accompanied by the sounds of his labored breathing -and jangling keys.</p> - -<p>Pasino's task was a delicate one, and though Vittori sent four strong -men to aid him, the evening was nearly spent by the time the glistening -statues were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> released from their temporary prisons and lifted to their -pedestals in the gallery niches.</p> - -<p>While they worked, sounds of music and subdued laughter floated up to -them, and fragrances and appetizing odors were continually wafted from -the banquet-hall below.</p> - -<p>Tonin worked with the others, and when the sculptured nymphs were -brought to view, his delight knew no bounds. Taking up his position -before the last erected one, he stood with folded arms, silently, -wonderingly drinking in the beauties which Toretto's chisel had -effected. He was wholly lost to time and place and was quite unaware -that the servants had removed all traces of packing and litter, and that -a bevy of maids were now seated in the gallery, weaving garlands at -Pasino's order, for the festooning of the unfinished pedestals. He was -so absorbed in the snowy goddess before him that he was deaf to -everything until old Vittori's voice <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>suddenly rent the gallery's -stillness with something between a groan and a shriek.</p> - -<p>"Where is the aquarium? Who's seen my gold-fish? Answer, somebody, or -I'll throw you all out of the window! Oh, I shall be disgraced and -discharged and maybe half killed! Where is it? Why don't you speak?"</p> - -<p>The seneschal's appearance, as well as his words, indicated unusual -excitement, for his scarlet robe was thrown open at the throat, his -frosty locks were rumpled, his uplifted hands were shaking, and his lips -were twitching uncannily.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter? What's wrong?" demanded a dozen voices, but Tonin -darted across to the old man's side with the announcement—</p> - -<p>"Giuseppe carried it away this afternoon as a present to his cousin -David."</p> - -<p>"My-o! My-o! I am lost, I am done, I am dead!" ejaculated the seneschal, -wringing his hands.</p> - -<p>"What's the trouble, Vittori?" asked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> Pasino, laying a quieting hand -upon the shoulder of his agitated friend.</p> - -<p>"It is this," returned the seneschal hoarsely; "the duke ordered me to -send to the table a fresh ornamental centrepiece with each course, -making every one handsomer than the one used before it. I did so, and -all has now been served but the dessert, and that will be due in about -fifteen minutes. For this fancy piece I have filled a great tray with -Parma violets on snow, thousands of them—and in the midst of the -flowers I planned to set the aquarium of goldfish for a bit of color and -life. My-o! My-o! What shall I do?" and once again the seneschal fell to -moaning.</p> - -<p>"Build a column of fruit in the centre of the tray," suggested Pasino.</p> - -<p>"Impossible! I used a pyramid of apricots and nectarines for the second -course."</p> - -<p>"Wouldn't a lighted candle or lamp do?" inquired Pasino, earnestly -endeavoring to find relief for the seneschal.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p><p>"No! No!" wailed Vittori; "lighted things would melt the snow."</p> - -<p>"To be sure," agreed Pasino sympathetically.</p> - -<p>"I know something that might be pretty," ventured Tonin timidly.</p> - -<p>"What is it?" Vittori demanded.</p> - -<p>For answer the boy turned from the seneschal and his fellow-retainers, -and whispered to Pasino apart. The old man's face brightened as he -received the boy's confidence.</p> - -<p>"I don't know," he commented; "but it ought to be good—yes, yes, it -would be, it would indeed!"</p> - -<p>"Then let him put it through," shouted the seneschal desperately. "I -can't wait to hear what it is, for I'm late now. Do as he says, -everybody, for I've got to trust my reputation to this stripling whether -I like it or not. Saints help him, for if the work is a failure, woe to -poor Vittori! Have your ornament ready in the lower rear passage, lad, -when the tray goes through to the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>banquet-room. Everything else shall -be taken in first, so that you may have as much time as possible."</p> - -<p>Off went the harassed seneschal, and Tonin, beset with misgivings lest -he had been both rash and bold in his offer of assistance, addressed the -grooms with outward composure.</p> - -<p>"Bring me a firkin of butter, a pail of the coldest spring water, and a -big china platter."</p> - -<p>His orders were swiftly obeyed, and all looked on with expectant -interest while he directed a servant to dig from the cask as much butter -as could be heaped on the platter. Next he rolled back his sleeves and -plunged his hands into the water-pail, holding them there until they -were sufficiently cooled for his purpose, then attacking the butter with -his dripping fingers, he rolled and patted it into a goodly loaf, with -motions so quick and decisive that the spectators fairly blinked. -Seizing a small chisel and a pointed wooden blade from Pasino's -tool-chest,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> Tonin began to convert the meaningless dairy lump into a -form familiar to all beholders.</p> - -<p>With the touch of his nimble instruments, attended by occasional taps -and pressures from his lithe brown fingers, the loaf vanished, and in -its place appeared a noble lion, quite as though Tonin's chisel had been -a magic wand which had freed the king of the forest from a stifling and -hideous disguise.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i215.jpg" id="i215.jpg"></a><img src="images/i215.jpg" alt="In its place appeared a noble lion" /></div> - -<p class="bold">"In its place appeared a noble lion."</p> - -<p>The tawny beast, with his bushy head, slender body, powerful limbs, and -graceful tail, brought a torrent of babbling admiration from the -on-lookers; but Tonin, heedless of their chatter, sought out his -grandfather with questioning glance. He received a quiet nod from -Pasino, and drying his hands on a corner of his hempen apron, he caught -up the platter and carried it to the appointed place below stairs, -followed by Pasino and a train of chuckling servants.</p> - -<p>He had gauged the time exactly, for as he stepped into the low-ceiled -passage,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> six flower-maidens, bearing the debatable centrepiece, entered -from the opposite doorway. The seneschal joined them immediately, and -without a word set Tonin's lion in the centre of the snowy field, -enclosed on every side by drifts of Parma violets. Vittori then abruptly -directed the maidens to enter the banquet-hall with their ornament.</p> - -<p>That the seneschal was alarmed lest the duke would not be pleased with -this hastily contrived decoration, Tonin read at a glance; and -impulsively he threw himself before the carriers to stay their progress.</p> - -<p>"Don't send it in if it isn't right, Master Vittori! Try something else, -please!" he implored.</p> - -<p>"Hist! Let them go, let them go! I have nothing else to send, so I must -stand or fall by your butter-toy. Alas for me, and you, too, sirrah, if -the duke be vexed!"</p> - -<p>A strained silence fell upon the group in the rear passage as the -flower-maidens<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> crossed the main corridor and entered the banquet-hall. -The grooms and maids exchanged significant nods and winks, old Vittori -unconsciously pressed his keys tightly to his breast, Pasino withdrew -into the shadow, and Tonin waited in acute suspense, wondering whether -in his desire to relieve the seneschal's dilemma he had been guilty of a -childish and ignorant blunder. As the seconds flew by, the boy's -perplexity increased, and presently he was writhing with the fear that -his offering would affront the duke, and perhaps even render him -ridiculous before the lords and ladies who sat at the board.</p> - -<p>Sounds of harps and violins greeted them from beyond the velvet-hung -portal, but none in the rear passage regarded the melody.</p> - -<p>Five minutes dragged by, and one of the flower-maidens stepped into the -corridor. Each person in the rear passage started breathlessly forward -to hear her message.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p><p>"His grace desires the seneschal to come to him."</p> - -<p>"My-o! My-o!" groaned Vittori; "mercy knows what he'll do to me—and to -you, too, Tonin Canova!"</p> - -<p>Pausing just long enough to settle his scarlet robe and adjust his linen -neckcloth, the seneschal concealed his distress as well as he could, and -walked sedately into the banquet-hall.</p> - -<p>Tonin locked his hands together in despair.</p> - -<p>"What a dunce I was—I, Tonin Canova, who has never been off this -mountain—to dare to set up my little work before grand persons like -those! Oh, oh! and poor Vittori may be discharged on account of it!"</p> - -<p>Suddenly the seneschal reappeared.</p> - -<p>"Tonin, you are wanted at once! His grace has sent for you. Hurry! Go -on!"</p> - -<p>"Not in <i>there</i>!" gasped Tonin, retreating toward the stair door; "I -should die of fright before those great folk."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p><p>"Hurry, hurry, you impudent monkey! Do you think you can keep the Duke -d'Asolo waiting?"</p> - -<p>To make an end of the argument, Vittori seized the boy by the arm, -giving him a push that sent him into the banquet-room with a rush.</p> - -<p>Tonin was half-blinded by the myriads of lights, and quite dazed by the -grandeur of the spectacle. He dimly comprehended that the vast apartment -was hung with vines and banked with flowers; that a table like a huge -cross ran the entire length and nearly the breadth of the room; that the -Duke d'Asolo sat at the upper end, and that hosts of ladies and -gentlemen in gorgeous raiment turned about in their chairs and fixed -their eyes upon the young visitor.</p> - -<p>A scalding wave of shame rushed upward through Tonin's body, scorching -his cheeks and dyeing his neck as he became conscious of his own -workaday garb. He came to an abrupt stop, standing with downcast eyes -before the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> Venetian company, a truly diverting figure with his loose -blouse, rolled-up trousers and sleeves, bare arms, bare legs, and -dripping apron.</p> - -<p>"Come, my lad, and tell us something about yourself," said the duke in a -tone surprisingly gentle for one who palpitated with wrath and -vengeance.</p> - -<p>Tonin made his way slowly up the room, pausing at the duke's elbow, and -raising his eyes just far enough to get a glimpse of his yellow lion on -the table, directly before Giovanni Falier.</p> - -<p>"When did you do this?" inquired the master of the feast, indicating the -ornament with his jewelled index finger.</p> - -<p>"To-night," admitted Tonin feebly.</p> - -<p>"Can you make other figures and objects?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, signor."</p> - -<p>"Where did you learn?"</p> - -<p>"From grandfather, signor."</p> - -<p>"I have been greatly surprised this evening, as also have been my -guests,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> at sight of this—this decoration, and ahem—"</p> - -<p>"Now it's coming," thought Tonin in a panic. "Perhaps he'll put me in a -dungeon."</p> - -<p>"I have sent it clear around the table so that every one might examine -it closely, and we all agree about it. How should you like to make -statues, lad,—nymphs, you know, and fairies—"</p> - -<p>"And goddesses like that one upstairs?" cried Tonin, his face alight -with this unexpected turn of the conversation.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Oh, oh! I'd rather make a goddess like that than to be a king, or <i>go -to the carnival</i>!"</p> - -<p>A chorus of laughter greeted this outburst, and Tonin trembled with -embarrassment and surprise.</p> - -<p>"Then you shall," the duke declared with a smile like April sunshine. -"You must have worked pretty hard, harder than most boys ever do, to be -able to make this," pointing to the lion; "and if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> you are willing to -keep on working, you may learn to do great things. You shall go to -Toretto, the sculptor who did the four pieces upstairs, and he will -teach you to make statues as good. Shall you like it, my boy?"</p> - -<p>"Like it! Oh, signor, if I had a chance to learn anything so beautiful -I'd work—I'd work—"</p> - -<p>A vision of the glistening goddess and her wordless grace came before -him, causing something to spring up in his throat that choked him. Twice -he tried to finish his eager speech, but the words did not come. He gave -a quick, eloquent gesture of entreaty, and down went his face into his -hands before them all.</p> - -<p>"A toast, a toast!" exclaimed the duke, springing to his feet with -upraised glass. "We'll pledge in water, if you please, good people, for -clear water and unspoiled childhood are the purest things of earth. -Ladies and gentlemen, I offer you our little friend, Tonin <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>Canova. May -he work faithfully with his teacher day by day, and when he comes to -manhood, may he be good and great and happy! God bless him!"</p> - -<p>Clink, clink, went the glasses.</p> - -<p>Tonin raised his head, and as he turned to withdraw, he whispered to the -duke with a beaming smile,—</p> - -<p>"I don't know any nice words to say, but maybe you'll tell all the -people for me how a boy feels when he's too happy to laugh and too happy -to cry."</p> - -<p class="space-above">Up the Alpine road to the village of mud-walled cabins rode a man one -day in autumn. His air was that of an experienced traveller, his dress -rich but modest, his horse a spirited charger.</p> - -<p>At the entrance to the village, a turn in the road brought him face to -face with a man in peasant attire who was walking in the opposite -direction. The rider bent curiously, and gazed down at the passer-by -with keenest interest; then bringing his horse sharply to a standstill, -he cried,—</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p><p>"Pablo! Don't you remember me?"</p> - -<p>The man by the way halted in surprise. For a moment he regarded the -stranger blankly, then some memory out of his boyhood seemed to awaken, -for suddenly he seized the horse's bridle with both hands, and -shouted,—</p> - -<p>"Tonin Canova! By all the fates and furies, you are the last man in the -world I expected to see to-day!"</p> - -<p>"I knew you by your quick and springy step. I suppose you are still the -leader of the town, Pablo, the foremost citizen of Passagno."</p> - -<p>A flush of pride crept into the peasant's cheek, but he merely waved his -hand toward the extensive vineyard lying further down the slope.</p> - -<p>"That is mine. That's all."</p> - -<p>"And enough, too, old friend. Your purse must be ready to overflow, -after a harvest from that fine vineyard."</p> - -<p>The peasant blushed again and nodded. Then half timidly he addressed the -other,—</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p><p>"I'm glad to see you again, signor—"</p> - -<p>The rider lifted his hand in rebuke.</p> - -<p>"Not <i>signor</i> to me, Pablo! I am still your friend, and not in any wise -changed from the lad who played with you in this very roadway."</p> - -<p>"But you have grown powerful and wealthy!"</p> - -<p>"Ye-es, but gold coins can never make me anything else than I was -before."</p> - -<p>"But we have heard that the city of Venice gave you a pension for your -whole life, because you had made such wonderful statues."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Venice has been good to me."</p> - -<p>"And that all the great people of Rome are friends with you."</p> - -<p>"True, but—"</p> - -<p>"That the Pope has written your name in the golden book of the capital."</p> - -<p>"So he did; still—"</p> - -<p>"That Napoleon of France invited you to his court, and that the German -Emperor has even made you a knight."</p> - -<p>"Hark to me, Pablo!" and this time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> the rider's voice was commanding. -"These things are indeed true, for people everywhere have shown me the -rarest kindness; but while the palace doors of all Europe are open to me -if I care to enter, and ladies and gentlemen of every nation pour their -compliments and gold upon me, my heart has turned back to my native -village and the dear simple friends of my childhood. I have left the -great world for a time, and have come back to see the old faces; and -Pablo, on that slope, near the little cottage,"—here his voice broke, -as he pointed to the last of the mud-walled cabins,—"I have planned to -build a church as beautiful as the Parthenon at Athens. If my good old -neighbors cannot travel far enough to see the temples of the world, they -shall have one near at hand, which will show them that Canova has not -forgotten them."</p> - -<p>True to his word, the sculptor lingered in Passagno until there had -risen on the mountain side a classic, snowy edifice<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> which was the -wonder and pride of all the villagers. When the builders had finished -and had gone their way, the man who had designed it all put on his -apron, took up his chisel, and completed for the altar ornaments that he -had begun twenty years before, when he had lived in the cabin just over -the way.</p> - -<p>How the people rejoiced in their pillared house of worship, and how -grateful they were to the giver of so splendid a gift. Warmly they bade -him farewell when his task was at length completed, and he was obliged -to go in order to execute the greater works that awaited him.</p> - -<p>At last, in the city of Rome, when the sculptor's hair whitened, his -step faltered, and his heart grew strangely still, the friends about -him, a brilliant company, carried him tenderly up the Alpine road, and -laid him to rest beneath the altar of his own carving.</p> - -<p>When the service was ended, the lords and ladies, the princes and -cardinals,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> the poets and teachers who had paid him their devotion to -the last, wound their way slowly down to the turbulent world; and Tonin -Canova slept on the mountain side, in the heart of his Alpine village.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>FRÉDÉRIC OF WARSAW</span> <span class="smaller">[CHOPIN<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a>]</span></h2> - -<p>It was the evening study hour at Nicholas Chopin's boarding-school. -Twenty-five lads belonging to the oldest families of Warsaw were -assembled in the schoolroom, preparing lessons for the following day.</p> - -<p>The place was large, well lighted, and comfortably warmed; good pictures -hung on the walls, and racks of books filled every available nook. At -the upper end of the room, near the master's desk, stood an open piano; -and at the lower, a table bearing plates, cups, and wholesome -refreshments which would be distributed among the boys when study-hour -was over. Throughout the room great cheerfulness and comfort reigned, -and the apple-cheeked boys at the desks showed that they were generously -cared for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> under this kindly roof. They were mostly little fellows, -ranging in age from eight to twelve years, and a merrier company one -would journey far to find.</p> - -<p>When Nicholas Chopin sat behind the desk, this hour was always a quiet -one; for while he was indulgent with the boys out of school, furthering -their enjoyment with all his heart, he was also a strict and thorough -teacher, who would tolerate no disturbance from the pupils during -lesson-time.</p> - -<p>But to-night the master was absent, and the new assistant, a mild-eyed, -pale young man, sat in Nicholas Chopin's chair and sought to keep the -boys at their tasks. He had been among them but two or three days, and -at the very beginning the pupils had decided that this was his first -attempt at teaching. His soft voice and worried look filled the boys -with glee; and half their playtime was spent in making plans to mock and -deride him. Until now, however, they had failed to carry out their -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>mischievous schemes, for Nicholas Chopin had compelled them to treat -the new assistant with respectful obedience. But to-night the master had -gone from home, leaving his assistant in full charge of the school, and -the boys threw all rules to the winds for the sole purpose of vexing the -new teacher.</p> - -<p>Instead of the usual stillness maintained at this hour, the room was -a-buzz with whispers. The boys noisily shuffled their feet, rattled -their papers, and tossed their books about on their desks. The teacher -rapped sharply with his ruler again and again, but these warnings were -greeted with impudent chuckles and laughter.</p> - -<p>At one of the side desks sat Frédéric Chopin, the master's son, toiling -at a much blotted copy-book. He was heartily liked by every boy in the -house, and for some reason, whenever he spoke in his quiet way, the -others obeyed his wishes without a syllable of complaint. John -Skotricki, who had the strongest arms and legs at school, was the -ringleader on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> the playground; but Frédéric was chief councillor and -fun-maker at all other times and places. Although the master's son, he -enjoyed no special favor or liberty, but was held to the same line of -duty prescribed for the other students. In the classroom he was not -noticeably clever, for he was very bad at numbers, and it is doubtful if -he could have found his own country on the great globe in the corner; -but there was one thing that Frédéric Chopin could do better than any -other boy in the school, better than any other boy in Warsaw, better, -probably, than any other boy in all the country of Poland: he could play -magnificently on the piano. So remarkably he played that everybody -wondered, and strangers often came to the house for a glimpse of the -young musician.</p> - -<p>A year before, when he was nine, he had played at a great charity -concert given in the city hall, and after the performance the people had -surged by the stage to shake his hand and praise him;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> and in the -excitement and pleasure of it all, he might have become very vain of his -powers and success, but he remembered just in time that while he could -play brilliantly on the piano, he could not jump as far by ten inches as -John Skotricki, and that he did not know as much about grammar as the -youngest pupil at school.</p> - -<p>One boy who had attended the concert, and who loved music passionately, -was the young Prince Radziwill. He decided that evening that he would -like to know the boy pianist, and soon it was no uncommon thing for the -prince's carriage to roll up to the Chopin school. Frédéric went often -with the young nobleman to drive, sometimes even accompanying him home -to the palace; but of these things he never spoke to the boys at school, -and not one of them was jealous because Frédéric had become the prince's -friend.</p> - -<p>He practised diligently for many hours every day in his own room; but he -never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> mentioned the subject of music to the other lads, and when in -their company he was as happy-go-lucky as any schoolboy in Warsaw.</p> - -<p>To-night, however, when he saw the new teacher's face flush with -displeasure in the noisy schoolroom, he felt a bit sorry, for he knew -that the young man would prove to be a good-natured companion if he were -not enraged at the outset.</p> - -<p>Frédéric glanced uneasily about him from time to time as the confusion -increased, realizing that even the most patient of teachers would not -long endure such rebellion. He, as much as any one, enjoyed the antics -that kept the whole school tittering, and was strongly tempted to join -in the mutiny; but he had promised his father to stand by the new -assistant this evening, and he felt honor-bound to do it.</p> - -<p>The crisis came when John Skotricki leaped from his seat and ran down -the room in pursuit of a boy who had given<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> him a cuff on the ear in -passing. The teacher sprang up with an angry light in his eye, and -flourished the ruler threateningly. Frédéric exchanged glances with the -assistant, and threw down his pen with the announcement,—</p> - -<p>"Boys, if you'll all be quiet in your seats, I'll tell you a story."</p> - -<p>The others, supposing that Frédéric was on their side, and that this was -a part of the joke, folded their arms; and instantly the room grew so -still that one could hear the ticking of the clock in the hall beyond.</p> - -<p>Frédéric turned out all the lights, for "a story always sounds better in -the dark," he explained. Then seating himself at the piano, he began to -speak, playing all the while music that helped to tell his story.</p> - -<p>Every student rested his arms on his desk, and bent attentively to -listen.</p> - -<p>"Once upon a time there stood a great house on the bank of a lonely -river." (Here came a lightly running passage on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> the piano, like the -rippling of water.) "A band of robbers riding through the country paused -in the glade at nightfall. Seeing the old mansion by the river side, -they decided to force an entrance at midnight and carry away the gold -and jewels that were probably secreted there.</p> - -<p>"They laid their plans carefully" (sounds of many gruff, deep-toned -voices, one at a time, then all together in a rumbling chorus), "and at -the solemn hour they had chosen" (twelve clanging tones), "they tied -their horses farther up the dell, and marched, two by two, toward the -house by the swirling river. Noiselessly they approached and surrounded -the many-pinnacled dwelling, each robber choosing a window through which -he would make his entrance. At the signal of the leader" (a high faint -trill), "each man climbed to his window ledge, sawed straight through -the iron bars that protected it" (a steady rasping sound as of edged -tools), "and ripped out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> the glass with the point of his dagger" -(tinklings as of shattered crystal).</p> - -<p>"Now for the treasures! Each man had one foot inside the house, and one -hand on the inner sill, when, all at once, lights flared up in every -room" (a reckless sweep of notes), "dogs barked fiercely, shouts were -heard from the upper corridors, pistol-shots burst on the stillness of -the night, and the robbers leaped from their perches, rolling over and -over in the mud below" (loud discordant notes, and the <i>bang, bang</i> of -the pistols mingled with the furious growling and yelping of dogs).</p> - -<p>"Gaining their feet in a twinkling, the robbers fled as swiftly as -though wearing wings on their boots; and reaching the horses in -breathless fright, they swung themselves into their saddles and galloped -madly away. Hour after hour they rode" (pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat of the -hoof-beats), "through valley and village and glen. On, on they spurred" -(pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat), "until they came to a deep,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> dense forest. Into -its shadows they plunged, knowing that here they would be safe at last -from the dogs and the men who lived in the house by the rolling river.</p> - -<p>"They pulled up their horses and listened" (silence), "and listened" -(silence), "but heard no pursuing feet. So, dismounting, they turned -their horses loose to nibble at will, and jaded by hours of reckless -riding, the robbers threw themselves upon the green turf to rest. The -scents of the flowers were sweet, the grass was deep and soft, the -leaves overhead rustled, rustled, rustled, and ere long, in the cool of -the summer's dawn, the weary robbers—fell—asleep."</p> - -<p>So quietly had Frédéric spoken, so softly had he played as he described -the woodland sounds, that, gently touching the final chord, he -discovered, by the moonlight streaming in through the windows, that -twenty-four boys, like the tired robbers, were fast asleep.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i241.jpg" id="i241.jpg"></a><img src="images/i241.jpg" alt="Like the tired robbers, were fast asleep" /></div> - -<p class="bold">"Like the tired robbers, were fast asleep."</p> - -<p>Stealing from the room on tiptoe, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> summoned his sisters and the -servants to bring in lights; then stepping to the piano, he struck one -crashing chord.</p> - -<p>As though a bomb had exploded among them, the boys started from their -slumbers, rubbing their eyes and staring stupidly at one another.</p> - -<p>At that moment the clock chimed the hour of dismissal, and Nicholas -Chopin entered the room; whereupon the pupils bounded from their seats -with shouts of laughter over the musical spell that Frédéric had cast -upon them.</p> - -<p>When the cups and plates went round, the new teacher drew the master -into the hall and told him how cleverly Frédéric had helped him to -maintain order; but in the schoolroom the lads were waving their -sandwiches and napkins, and cheering the master's son as a jolly comrade -and a true-blue mate.</p> - -<p class="space-above">>The city of Warsaw adored its composer, Frédéric Chopin. The residents -detected hidden meanings in his playing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> of the piano which they -believed would sometime be accepted beyond the realm of Poland.</p> - -<p>He was young, handsome, and gay, and his companionship was sought on -every side. Had not his breast been stirred by an impulse stronger than -the mere desire for popularity, Frédéric Chopin would have developed -into nothing more than an elegant young musician, the acknowledged -favorite of his fellow-townsmen. But he was not content to end his -career so tamely. He must see the world. He must conquer the public -beyond his native land. He must play, he must compose, he must work and -study to greater ends.</p> - -<p>Accordingly, one day in November, at the age of twenty-one, he set out -for Vienna. When he found himself actually leaving kindred and home -behind, a flood of sadness swept over him.</p> - -<p>"I shall never return," he groaned; "my eyes will never look upon Warsaw -again!"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p><p>His friends responded lightly to these fears, and with their words of -cheer he soon recovered his usual bright spirit.</p> - -<p>He was escorted as far as the first day's travel would carry him by a -score of affectionate friends; and at the end of a banquet given in his -honor, he was touched to the heart by one of their number presenting to -him a silver goblet filled with Polish earth, with entreaties that he -would meet the world as a man, and keep his country in constant -remembrance.</p> - -<p>In Vienna he attracted much attention by his playing, and at the end of -a year he was accounted one of the leading musical spirits of the city.</p> - -<p>He had decided to pay a brief visit to his home and friends, when on his -way he was horrified to learn that his beloved Poland had been seized by -the Russians, that his country was in the hands of the enemy, and that -Warsaw was converted into a camp of foreign soldiers. He dared not -advance farther, as all absent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> Poles had been warned by the new -Government to keep away from Poland, on pain of death.</p> - -<p>Frédéric was nearly crushed by these unlooked-for tidings, and, only -waiting to learn that his parents were safe and well, he set his face -toward Paris. Here he decided to make his home, as had so many others of -his exiled countrymen. Success in this city meant success in the world, -and for this Frédéric Chopin labored through the following years.</p> - -<p>His playing was so rare, so peculiarly delicate, that no one in Paris -could approach him in his chosen style. One critic called him "the piano -god," another, "Velvet Fingers"; and when his compositions were printed, -and the people could play them for themselves, they were nigh -transported by his genius.</p> - -<p>London vainly besought him to take up his residence there, but he -steadily refused, remaining for the rest of his days in Paris, the pride -of the Parisians and the idol of the many Poles who, like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> himself, were -exiled from their native land.</p> - -<p>When the end came, and the "velvet fingers" were stilled at last, he was -buried from the Church of the Madeleine. Crowds of distinguished persons -and homeless Poles attended the sacred service, and the procession was -numbered by hundreds, that, to the strains of his own "Funeral March," -followed Frédéric Chopin to the tomb.</p> - -<p>Finally, when his body was lovingly laid in the place prepared for it, -one of his countrymen brought forth the silver goblet which for nineteen -years the composer had fondly cherished, and, as the sweetest -benediction he could offer, reverently took a handful of Polish earth -and sprinkled it upon the body of Frédéric of Warsaw.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Chopin (pronounced <i>Sho-pang</i>).</p></div> -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Boys Who Became Famous Men, by -Harriet Pearl Skinner - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOYS WHO BECAME FAMOUS MEN *** - -***** This file should be named 55353-h.htm or 55353-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/3/5/55353/ - -Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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