6. There was something so odd in the whole affair, and something so comic and pleasant in the manner of the speaker, that the spell was broken in a moment, and all smiled involuntarily.

"Thank you!" said the shoemaker; "but our harpsichord is so wretched, and we have no music."

"No music!" echoed my friend.

the Fräulein-"

"How, then, does

7. He paused, and colored up, for the girl looked full at him, and he saw that she was blind.

"I-I entreat your pardon!" he stammered. "But I had not perceived before. Then you play by ear?" "Entirely."

"And where do you hear the music, since you frequent no concerts?"

"I used to hear a lady practising near us, when we lived at Bruhl two years. During the summer evenings her windows were generally open, and I walked to and fro outside to listen to her."

8. She seemed shy; so Beethoven said no more, but seated himself quietly before the piano, and began to play. He had no sooner struck the first chord, than I knew what would follow-how grand he would be that night. And I was not mistaken. Never, during all the years I knew him, did I hear him play as he then played to that blind girl and her brother. He was inspired; and from the instant when his fingers began to wander along the keys, the very tone of the instrument began to grow sweeter and more equal.

9. The brother and sister were silent with wonder and rapture. The former laid aside his work; the latter, with her head bent slightly forward, and her hands pressed tightly over her breast, crouched down near the

end of the harpsichord, as if fearful lest even the beating of her heart should break the flow of those magical, sweet sounds. It was as if we were all bound in a strange dream, and only feared to wake.

10. Suddenly the flame of the single candle wavered, sank, flickered, and went out. Beethoven paused, and I threw open the shutters, admitting a flood of brilliant moonlight. The room was almost as light as before, and the illumination fell strongest upon the piano and player. But the chain of his ideas seemed to have been broken by the accident. His head dropped upon his breast; his hands rested upon his knees; he seemed absorbed in meditation. It was thus for some time.

11. At length the young shoemaker rose, and approached him eagerly, yet reverently. "Wonderful man!" he said, in a low tone, "who and what are you?"

The composer smiled as he only could smile, benevolently, indulgently, kingly. "Listen!" he said, and he played the opening bars of the sonata in F.

A cry of delight and recognition burst from them both, and exclaiming, “Then you are Beethoven !" they covered his hands with tears and kisses.

He rose to go, but we held him back with entreaties. "Play to us once more-only once more!"

12. He suffered himself to be led back to the instrument. The moon shone brightly in through the window and lit up his glorious, rugged head and massive figure. "I will improvise a sonata to the moonlight!" looking up thoughtfully to the sky and stars. Then his hands dropped on the keys, and he began playing a sad and infinitely lovely movement, which crept gently over the instrument like the calm flow of moonlight over the dark earth. .

13. This was followed by a wild, elfin passage in triple time-a sort of grotesque interlude, like the dance of sprites upon the sward. Then came a swift agitato finale—a breathless, hurrying, trembling movement, descriptive of flight, and uncertainty, and vague, impulsive terror, which carried us away on its rustling wings, and left us all in emotion and wonder.

"Farewell to you!" said Beethoven, pushing back his chair and turning toward the door-" farewell to you!" "You will come again?" asked they, in one breath.

14. He paused, and looked compassionately, almost tenderly, at the face of the blind girl. "Yes, yes," he said, hurriedly, "I will come again, and give the Fräulein some lessons. Farewell! I will soon come again!"

They followed us in silence more eloquent than words, and stood at their door till we were out of sight and hearing.

"Let us make haste back," said Beethoven, "that I may write out that sonata while I can yet remember it."

We did so, and he sat over it till long past day-dawn. And this was the origin of that moonlight sonata with which we are all so fondly acquainted.

FOR PREPARATION.-I. Where is Bonn ?-Cologne ?-Bruhl? The sonata in C sharp minor, popularly called the "Moonlight Sonata," because its first movement suggests the moon gliding through fleecy clouds. Like all works of art, it bears other interpretations, which, however, agree internally. The moonlight has a certain correspondence to memory-reflected light-reflec tion of the past. And it is certain that Beethoven portrays in this movement his memory of happy hours with a friend, and in the latter part of the sonata his grief at parting, and his attempt to drown his sorrow by hard work at his vocation. The sonata in F (minor) is considered his greatest.

II. Hǎp'-pened (-pnd), Bee'-tho-ven (Bā'-), walk' (wawk), sŭd'-den-ly, sym'-pho-ny, ea'-ger-ly, list'-ened (lis'nd), fi-nä'-le (fe-nä'la), break, voice, Co-logne' (Ko-lōn'), eom-pǎn'-ion (-yun), shọes (shooz), õld-făsh'

ioned, Fräu'-lein (froi lin), per-çeived', fre-quent', ehôrd, e'-qual, brill'iant, pi-ä'-no, gro-tèsque' (-těsk').

III. Explain the use of the dash wherever it occurs in this piece; also the quotation-marks.

IV. Regrets, remedy, harpsichord, annoyed, pardon, magical, absorbed, recognition, sward, improvise, elfin, sprites, eloquent, agitato finale, Fräulein (miss, or maiden).

V. The second movement is called a 66 grotesque interlude." Explain this phrase. Explain "triple time." Do you know any pieces of music which (without words) call up feelings and emotions that may be expressed in words, or suggest images that may be described like scenes and events? To what extent do you consider this to be possible? Have you ever heard any of Richard Wagner's compositions ?-Rossini's overture to "William Tell"?

CXVIII. DARKNESS-A DREAM.

1. I had a dream which was not all a dream:
The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, pathless, and the icy earth

Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came, and went, and came, and brought no day;
And men forgot their passions in the dread

Of this their desolation; and all hearts

Were chilled into a selfish prayer for light :

2. And they did live by watch-fires; and the thrones, The palaces of crownéd kings, the huts,

The habitations of all things which dwell,

Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed,
And men were gathered round their blazing homes,
To look once more into each other's face.
Happy were they who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanoes, and their mountain-torch.

A fearful hope was all the world contained;
Forests were set on fire; but hour by hour
They fell and faded, and the crackling trunks
Extinguished with a crash-and all was black.

3. The brows of men, by the despairing light, Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits

The flashes fell upon them. Some lay down,

4. And hid their eyes, and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clinchéd hands, and smiled;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral-piles with fuel, and looked up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnashed their teeth, and howled.

5.

6.

The wild birds shrieked, And, terrified, did flutter on the ground, And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawled, And twined themselves among the multitude, Hissing but stingless-they were slain for food; And war, which for a moment was no more, Did glut himself again. A meal was bought With blood, and each sate sullenly apart, Gorging himself in gloom.

No love was left;

All earth was but one thought: and that was death, Immediate and inglorious; and the pang

Of famine fed upon all entrails. Men

Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh; The meager by the meager were devoured.