te blowing a
trumpet! He looks like a good man, doesn't he?" And the father said,
"My boys, that is the very Levite that passed me by when I was lying
wounded! Let us go away from this place." And then one of the boys said,
"Let us find the church of the Good Samaritan, and worship there." And
Dr. Conwell added, "My text is, 'Go thou and do likewise!'" No one who
heard that sermon, so full of surprises, could ever forget it.

The elocutionary readers who entertained us during that season were
Professor Cumnock, A. P. Burbank, George Riddle, George W. Cable,
reading his own stories, and Mr. Leland Powers of Boston, with his
rendering of _David Copperfield_, several other stories, and a play or
two. Without the aid of costume or "making up," it was wonderful how he
could change facial expression, and voice, and manner instantaneously
with his successive characters. We saw Mr. Micawber transformed in an
instant into Uriah Heep. From 1889, Mr. Powers was a frequent visitor,
and his rendering of novels and plays enraptured the throngs in the
Amphitheater. For many seasons he was wont to appear on alternate years.
On Old First Night, when the call was made for those present on the
successive years, while the regulars stood up and remained standing as
each year was named, it was interesting to watch the down-sittings and
uprisings of Leland Powers. But we shall hear his voice no more, for
even while we are writing the news of his death comes to us.

In this year, 1889, the musical classes were organized as the Chautauqua
School of Music, with instructors in all departments. Inasmuch as all
people do not enjoy the sound of a piano, practicing all day scales and
exercises, a place was found in the rear of the grounds for a village of
small cottages, some might call them "huts," each housing a piano for
lessons and practice. I am told that forty-eight pianos may be heard
there all sending out music at once, and each a different tune.

The year 1889 brought another man to Chautauqua who was well-beloved and
will be long remembered, the pianist and teacher, William H. Sherwood,
who showed himself a true Chautauquan by his willing, helpful spirit, no
less than by his power on the piano. When death stilled those wondrous
fingers, Mr. Sherwood's memory was honored by the Sherwood Memorial
Studios, dedicated in 1912.

When we realize that Chautauqua is a city of frame-buildings, packed
closely together on narrow streets, in the earl