mony out of hopeless chaos. Zelter
followed, fearing success would turn the boy's head--berating, scolding,
chiding, encouraging--and all the time admiring and loving. The pretty
boy was not much frightened by the old man's rough ways, but seized
upon such of the instruction as he needed and filled in the rest with
his own peerless soul.

The parents were astounded at such progress. At first they had wished
merely to round out the boy's education with a proper amount of musical
instruction, and now they reluctantly allowed the old teacher to have
his way--the lad must make his career a musical one. The boy composed a
cantata, which was given in the parlors of his parents' home, with an
orchestra secured for the occasion. Felix stood on a chair and led his
band of musicians with that solemn dignity which was his through life.
Zelter grumbled, ridiculed and criticized--that was the way he showed
his interest. The old musician declared they were making a "Miss Nancy"
of his pupil--saturating him with flattery, and he threatened to resign
his office--most certainly not intending to do so.

It was about this time that Zelter threw out the hint that he was going
down to Weimar to see his friend Goethe--would Felix like to go? Felix
would be delighted, and when the boy's father and mother were
interviewed, they were pleased, too, at the prospect of their boy's
making the acquaintance of the greatest poet of Germany. Felix was duly
cautioned about how he should conduct himself. He promised, of course,
and also agreed to write a letter home every day, recording the exact
language that the author of "Werther" used in his presence.

Goethe and the Carlylian Zelter had been cronies for many years. The
poet delighted in the company of the gruff old stone-mason musician, and
together they laughed at the world over their pipes and mugs. And
sometimes, alas, they hotly argued and raised their voices in
donner-und-blitzen style, as Germans have been known to do. Yet they
were friends, and the honest Zelter's yearly visits were as a godsend to
the old poet, who was often pestered to distraction by visitors who only
voiced the conventional, the inconsequential and absurd. Here was a man
who tried his steel.

Now, Zelter had his theories about teaching harmony--theories too finely
spun for any one but himself to grasp. Possibly he himself did not seize
them very firmly, but only argued them in a vain attempt to clear the
matter up in h