a
permanent dislike for all kinds of theology. There were several other
books of no particular name or merit, such as agents sell to people
who know nothing of buying books. How my mother came by this little
library which, considering all things, was so well suited to me I
never sought to know. But she was far from being an ignorant woman and
had herself, very likely, read the majority of these books, though
I do not remember ever seeing her with a book in her hand, with the
exception of the Episcopal Prayer book. At any rate she encouraged in
me the habit of reading, and when I had about exhausted those books in
the little library which interested me, she began to buy books for me.
She also regularly gave me money to buy a weekly paper which was then
very popular for boys.

At this time I went in for music with an earnestness worthy of maturer
years; a change of teachers was largely responsible for this. I began
now to take lessons of the organist of the church which I attended
with my mother; he was a good teacher and quite a thorough musician.
He was so skillful in his instruction and filled me with such
enthusiasm that my progress--these are his words--was marvelous. I
remember that when I was barely twelve years old I appeared on a
program with a number of adults at an entertainment given for some
charitable purpose, and carried off the honors. I did more, I brought
upon myself through the local newspapers the handicapping title of
"infant prodigy."

I can believe that I did astonish my audience, for I never played
the piano like a child; that is, in the "one-two-three" style with
accelerated motion. Neither did I depend upon mere brilliancy of
technique, a trick by which children often surprise their listeners;
but I always tried to interpret a piece of music; I always played with
feeling. Very early I acquired that knack of using the pedals, which
makes the piano a sympathetic, singing instrument, quite a different
thing from the source of hard or blurred sounds it so generally is. I
think this was due not entirely to natural artistic temperament,
but largely to the fact that I did not begin to learn the piano by
counting out exercises, but by trying to reproduce the quaint songs
which my mother used to sing, with all their pathetic turns and
cadences.

Even at a tender age, in playing I helped to express what I felt
by some of the mannerisms which I afterwards observed in great
performers; I had not copied