mething more modern and in
a lighter vein. This is for the Brahms lover. Let us call it "Brahms'
hatred of Cats."

Brahms, so it is said, was an avowed enemy of the feline tribe. Unlike
Scarlatti, who was passionately fond of chords of the diminished cats,
the phlegmatic Johannes spent much of his time at his window,
particularly of moonlit nights, practising counterpoint on the race of
cats, the kind that infest back yards of dear old Vienna. Dr. Antonin
Dvorak had made his beloved friend and master a present of a peculiar
bow and arrow, which is used in Bohemia to slay sparrows. In and about
Prague it is named in the native tongue, "Slugj hym inye nech." With
this formidable weapon did the composer of orchestral cathedrals spend
his leisure moments. Little wonder that Wagner became an
anti-vivisectionist, for he, too, had been up in Brahms' backyard, but
being near-sighted, usually missed his cat. Because of arduous practice
Brahms always contrived to bring down his prey, and then--O diabolical
device!--after spearing the poor brutes, he reeled them into his room
after the manner of a trout fisher. Then--so Wagner averred--he eagerly
listened to the expiring groans of his victims and carefully jotted down
in his note-book their antemortem remarks. Wagner declared that he
worked up these piteous utterances into his chamber-music, but then
Wagner had never liked Brahms. Some latter-day Nottebohm may arise and
exhibit to an outraged generation the musical sketch-books of Brahms, so
that we may judge of the truth of this tale.

For a change, drop the severe objectivity of the method historical and
attempt the personal. It is very fetching. Here's a title for you: "How
I met Richard Wagner."

The day was of the soft dreamy May sort. I was walking slowly across the
Austernheim-hellmsberger Platz--local color, you observe!--when my eyes
suddenly collided with a queer apparition. At first blush it looked like
a little old woman, in visage a veritable witch; but horrors! a witch
with whiskers. This old woman, as I mistook her to be, was attired in
an Empire gown, with crinoline under-attachments. Around the neck was an
Elizabethan ruff, and on the head was a bonnet of the vogue of 1840;
huge, monstrously trimmed and bedecked with a perfect garden of
artificial flowers. The color of the dress was salmon-blue, with pink
ribbons. Altogether it was a fearful get-up, and, involuntarily, I
looked about me expecting to see people