rug and went to sleep comfortably with one eye open,

as is the manner of faithful watch-dogs.

"Let him laugh who wins," he said, winking the eye which he kept open.

A GENIUS.

W

HEN I was a little girl-a long while ago—I

was found to have a quick ear and some little taste for music; and my father, who was himself a great musician, determined that my taste should be cultivated, and that, to begin with, I should learn to play the violin, in the use of which he excelled, and which he pronounced to be the most perfect and sympathetic of instruments.

So, one New Year's Day, to my great delight, there arrived, directed to me, enclosed in many wrappings of paper, and tied about with strong cord in many tantalizing knots, a large, long parcel, which at first I almost hoped might be a cradle for my baby doll; but which, when at length it was opened, I was

equally charmed to find was a beautiful little violin, lying snugly in a velvet-lined case!

The toy was but a toy to me. But I was at once eager to awake its slumbering music, and clapped my hands gleefully when my father told me that he himself intended to teach me how to unravel the sweet mysteries of the fiddle and bow. Nothing would content me but that I should begin at once. My father was equally excited on the subject, and it was arranged that there should be a lesson every morning before breakfast. But so many things in this world do not happen as we arrange them!

I can

now scarcely remember which of us, the teacher or the taught, tired first; I have, at this distance of time, but a confused remembrance of tears on the one side and remonstrances on the other, and at length of sighs on both. But it is certain that, after a very short trial, the violin lessons were given up, and "the child" was pronounced to be "no genius." I know at the time I felt rather hurt at the tone of the remark, though I did not quite understand the meaning of the expression. I thought that

it referred exclusively to violin-playing, and created some confusion in the family circle by applying it to a distinguished author who was dining with my father some few evenings afterwards.

"You see, I know nothing of music," said the distinguished author, as he sipped his wine at dessert -addressing my father.

"Then Mr. M is 'no genius,' is he, mamma?" I asked in the loud whisper of an enfant terrible. Upon which, naturally, explanations had to be made on all sides; and I had to be informed that "genius bears many forms and speaks with many voices.

It was some two or three years after this that I had the great pleasure of going, for the first time, to a really good concert. I remember how I sat by my mother's side, awed into unnatural stillness, and throbbing in every limb with suppressed excitement, as I listened to the thrilling war of sounds with which the concert opened. I drank in the concluding chords of the overture almost with a sigh of relief, so overpowering was the effect produced upon me.

"Why, little woman, what's the matter?" asked

my father, as he turned round suddenly upon me, and saw that my eyes were swimming in tears.

But I had no voice just then to answer him. I could only slip my hand within my mother's and sit quite quietly, thinking it all over, and wait almost painfully for what was to follow. As piece succeededpiece, however, my emotions naturally calmed, and my real enjoyment of the music increased in proportion. There were singers, I remember, two or three, and a gentleman with long hair, who played the piano with terrible energy; but the crowning feature of the performance, and that which more than anything else attracted and riveted me, was the playing of a certain violin-solo piece by a young girl.

At that time lady violinists were very much rarer than they are at the present day, and the enthusiasm which the performance elicited was, no doubt, in a measure attributable to this. At the same time, my father-who, as I have said, was a judge of these matters-pronounced the young executante to be as talented as she was personally interesting, and joined