his year, especially a
beautiful quartet in B minor, an octet for strings, the music to an
opera in two acts, "Camacho's Wedding," and numerous pianoforte
pieces, it is difficult to realize that the composer was then only
sixteen years of age, or that anyone could question the artistic
vocation that claimed him. But the next year a work was written, the
score of which is marked "Berlin, August 6, 1826," when it must be
remembered that he was seventeen years of age, which of itself was
sufficient to rank him among the immortals--the overture to the
"Midsummer Night's Dream." Full of lovely imaginings, with a wonderful
fairy grace all its own, and a bewitching beauty, revealing not only
the soul of the true poet, but also the musician profoundly skilled in
all the art of orchestral effect, it is hard to believe that it is the
work of a boy under twenty, written in the bright summer days of 1826,
in his father's garden at Berlin.

Passing over the intermediate years with a simple reference to the
"Meeresstille," "Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage," which was then
composed, and a fine performance of Bach's "Passion Music," for which
he had been long drilling the members of the Berlin Singakademie, the
next event is a visit to England in 1829, where he was received with
extraordinary warmth, playing at the Philharmonic Concerts, conducting
his C minor Symphony, which he dedicated to the Philharmonic Society,
they in their turn electing him one of their honorary members; going
to dinners, balls, and the House of Commons, and enjoying himself most
hugely. His letters from England at this time are brimming over with
fun and graphic description; there is one especially amusing, in which
he describes himself with two friends going home from a late dinner at
the German Ambassador's, and on the way buying three German sausages,
going down a quiet street to devour them, with all the while joyous
laughter and snatches of part songs. There is also a little incident
of this time showing the wonderful memory he possessed. After a
concert on "Midsummer Night," when the "Midsummer Night's Dream" had
very appropriately been played, it was found that the score had been
lost in a hackney-coach as the party were returning to Mr. Attwood's.
"Never mind," said Mendelssohn, "I will make another," which he did,
and on comparison with the separate parts not a single difference was
found in it.

At the beginning of December he was at home again, and