an's heart. Perhaps the sweetest sounds
of earth accompanied the parting soul until they blended in his ear with
the first chords of the angels' lyres.

He mingled much with the Polish circle in Paris; with Orda who seemed
born to command the future, and who was however killed in Algiers at
twenty years of age; with Counts Plater, Grzymala, Ostrowski, Szembeck,
with Prince Lubomirski, etc. etc. As the Polish families who came
afterwards to Paris were all anxious to form acquaintance with him, he
continued to mingle principally with his own people. He remained through
them not only AU COURANT of all that was passing in his own country,
but even in a kind of musical correspondence with it. He liked those who
visited Paris to show him the airs or new songs they had brought with
them, and when the words of these airs pleased him, he frequently wrote
a new melody for them, thus popularizing them rapidly in his country
although the name of their author was often unknown. The number of
these melodies, due to the inspiration of the heart alone, having become
considerable, he often thought of collecting them for publication. But
he thought of it too late, and they remain scattered and dispersed,
like the perfume of the scented flowers blessing the wilderness and
sweetening the "desert air" around some wandering traveller, whom chance
may have led upon their secluded track. During our stay in Poland we
heard some of the melodies which are attributed to him, and which
are truly worthy of him; but who would now dare to make an uncertain
selection between the inspirations of the national poet, and the dreams
of his people?

Chopin kept for a long time aloof from the celebrities of Paris; their
glittering train repelled him. As his character and habits had more true
originality than apparent eccentricity, he inspired less curiosity
than they did. Besides he had sharp repartees for those who imprudently
wished to force him into a display of his musical abilities. Upon one
occasion after he had just left the dining-room, an indiscreet host, who
had had the simplicity to promise his guests some piece executed by
him as a rare dessert, pointed to him an open piano. He should have
remembered that in counting without the host, it is necessary to
count twice. Chopin at first refused, but wearied at last by continued
persecution, assuming, to sharpen the sting of his words, a stifled and
languid tone of voice, he exclaimed: "Ah, sir, I have