ildren.

Soon more ambitious attempts at composition were made, the aim being
to write little operas. But unless they could be performed, it was
useless to try and make operas. This was a serious difficulty; but
Felix was deeply in earnest in whatever he undertook, and decided he
must have an orchestra to try out his operatic efforts. It looked like
an impossibility, but love and money can accomplish wonders. A small
orchestra was duly selected from among the members of the Court band.
The lad Felix was to conduct these sedate musicians, which he did
modestly but without embarrassment, standing on a footstool before
his men, waving the baton like a little general. Before the first
performance was quite ready, Felix felt there must be some one present
who could really judge of the merits of his little piece. Who would
do so better than his old professor of thorough bass and composition,
Carl Zelter, the director of the Berlin Singakademie. Zelter agreed
to accept this delicate office, and a large number of friends were
invited for the occasion.

This was only the beginning of a series of weekly musical evenings at
the Mendelssohn home. Felix, with his dark curls, his shining eyes,
and charming manners, was the life of anything he undertook. He
often conducted his little pieces, but did not monopolize the time.
Sometimes all four children took part, Fanny at the piano, Rebekka
singing, Paul playing the 'cello and Felix at the desk. Old Zelter was
generally present, and though averse to praising pupils, would often
say a few words of encouragement at the close.

Felix was at this time but little more than twelve years old. He had
within the last year composed fifty or sixty pieces, including a trio
for piano and strings, containing three movements, several sonatas for
the piano, some songs and a musical comedy in three scenes, for
piano and voices. All these were written with the greatest care and
precision, and with the date of each neatly added. He collected his
pieces into volumes; and the more work he did the more neatly he
wrote.

The boy Felix had a wonderful gift for making friends. One day he
suddenly caught sight of Carl Maria von Weber walking along the
streets of Berlin, near his home. He recognized the famous composer at
once, as he had lately visited his parents. The boy's dark eyes glowed
with pleasure at the recognition, and tossing back his curls, he
sprang forward and threw his arms about Weber's neck