rument,
was in its place. "There is no trunk there," was the reply.

"With one bound," says Spohr, "I was out of the carriage, and rushed
out through the gate with a drawn hunting-knife. Had I, with more
reflection, listened a while, I might have heard the thieves running out
through a side path. But in my blind rage I had far overshot the place
where I had last seen the trunk, and only discovered my overhaste when I
found myself in the open field. Inconsolable for my loss, I turned
back. While my fellow-traveler looked for the inn, I hastened to the
post-office, and requested that an immediate search might be made in the
garden houses outside the gate. With astonishment and vexation, I was
informed that the jurisdiction outside the gate belonged to Weende, and
that I must prefer my request there. As Weende was half a league from
Gottingen, I was compelled to abandon for that evening all further steps
for the recovery of my things. That these would prove fruitless on the
following morning I was well assured, and I passed a sleepless night in
a state of mind such as in my hitherto fortunate career had been unknown
to me. Had I not lost my splendid Guarneri violin, the exponent of all
the artistic success I had so far attained, I could have lightly borne
the loss of clothes and money." The police recovered an empty trunk
and the violin-case despoiled of its treasure, but still containing a
magnificent Tourte bow, which the thieves had left behind. Spohr managed
to borrow a Steiner violin, with which he gave his concert, but he did
not for years cease to lament the loss of his grand Guarneri fiddle.

In 1805 Spohr was quietly settled in his avocation at Brunswick as
composer and chief _Kam-mer-musicus_ of the ducal court, when he
received an offer to compete for the direction of the orchestra at
Gotha, then one of the most magnificent organizations in Europe, to be
at the head of which would give him an international fame. The offer
was too tempting to be refused, and Spohr was easily victorious. His
new duties were not onerous, consisting of a concert once a week, and
in practicing and rehearsing the orchestra. The annual salary was five
hundred thalers.

One of the most interesting incidents of Spohr's life now occurred. The
susceptible heart, which had often been touched, was firmly enslaved
by the charms of Dorette Schiedler, the daughter of the principal court
singer, and herself a fine virtuoso on the harp. Dorette