osed for me, and presented to me in a beautifully
written MS.), and shied the whole boiling of them into the fire. I
laughed sardonically as this mass of double counterpoint crackled and
blazed, and went sparkling out into ashes. Then I sat down to the
instrument, and tried, first to imitate the guitar, and then to play,
and next to sing, the melodies which I had heard the sisters execute.
At last, about midnight, my uncle came out of his bedroom crying, "For
the love of heaven stop that caterwauling, be off to your bed, and
let's try to get some sleep," with which he blew out the lights and
left me in the dark. I had nothing for it but obey; but in my dreams I
thought I had solved the secret of song, and was singing the "Sento
l'Amica Speme" in the most exquisite style myself.

"'Next morning my uncle had got together everybody who could play on
string or wind instruments, to a rehearsal in the concert-room, and a
proud man he felt himself to be able to turn out such a fine show of
performers. The rehearsal was anything but a success, however. Lauretta
essayed a grand scena, but we had not got many bars into the recitative
when everything was at sixes and sevens; none of the players had the
slightest idea of accompanying. Lauretta screamed, stormed, wept, with
rage and disgust. The organist was at the piano, and him she attacked
with her bitterest objurgations. He rose from his seat, and walked
slowly, and with much composure, out at the door. The band-master, at
whom she had hurled an "_asino tedesco_" put his violin under his arm,
and cocked his cap martially over one ear; he, too, was making for the
door, his men, unscrewing their mouthpieces, and sticking their bows in
among their strings, preparing to follow him. Only the amateurs were
left, looking at each other, almost with tears in their eyes, the
exciseman saying, "Oh, dear me! how very much I do feel a thing of this
sort!"

"'But all my natural bashfulness had abandoned me. I stopped the
band-master; I entreated and implored him; in the anguish of the moment
I promised I would write him six minuets, with double trios each, for
the county-ball. I succeeded in pacifying him. He went back to his
music-stand; the bandsmen followed his example, and the orchestra was
ready to commence operations once more. All except the organist; his place
at the piano was vacant. I found him strolling--a calm, contemplative
man--up and down in the market-place, by no process wha