eved what you were saying
yourself, whereas I utter what I know to be unreal and untrue as if I
did believe it in my very soul."

"When he comes into a room, every man feels as if he had taken a tonic
and had a new lease of life," said a man when asked the reason for his
selection, after he, with two companions, had written upon a slip of
paper the name of the most agreeable companion he had ever met. "He is
an eager, vivid fellow, full of joy, bubbling over with spirits. His
sympathies are quick as an electric flash."

"He throws himself into the occasion, whatever it may be, with his
whole heart," said the second, in praise of the man of his choice.

"He makes the best of everything," said the third, speaking of his own
most cherished acquaintance.

The three were traveling correspondents of great English journals, who
had visited every quarter of the world and talked with all kinds of
men. The papers were examined and all were found to contain the name
of a prominent lawyer in Melbourne, Australia.

"If it were not for respect for human opinions," said Madame de Stael
to M. Mole, "I would not open my window to see the Bay of Naples for
the first time, while I would go five hundred leagues to talk with a
man of genius whom I had not seen."

Enthusiasm is that secret and harmonious spirit which hovers over the
production of genius, throwing the reader of a book, or the spectator
of a statue, into the very ideal presence whence these works have
originated.

"One moonlight evening in winter," writes the biographer of Beethoven,
"we were walking through a narrow street of Bonn. 'Hush!' exclaimed
the great composer, suddenly pausing before a little, mean dwelling,
'what sound is that? It is from my Sonata in F. Hark! how well it is
played!'

"In the midst of the finale there was a break, and a sobbing voice
cried: 'I cannot play any more. It is so beautiful; it is utterly
beyond my power to do it justice. Oh, what would I not give to go to
the concert at Cologne!' 'Ah! my sister,' said a second voice; 'why
create regrets when there is no remedy? We can scarcely pay our rent.'
'You are right,' said the first speaker, 'and yet I wish for once in my
life to hear some really good music. But it is of no use.'

"'Let us go in,' said Beethoven. 'Go in!' I remonstrated; 'what should
we go in for?' 'I will play to her,' replied my companion in an
excited tone; 'here is feeling,--genius,--understanding! I wi