ngers
of sacred music, trained as they had originally been by no less a master
than Johann Sebastian Bach, the famous "Cantor." His rooms in that
building were now occupied by his successor, Hauptmann, who knew how to
maintain the highest standard of excellence in his pupils. He was a man
of learning and an erudite musician, and as such, one of the pillars of
strength on which rested Leipsic's reputation, that city standing quite
unrivalled as the centre towards which all musical aspirants gravitated.

He spoke little; but when he did, it was to say much. His criticisms
could be severe, as when a new orchestral piece was being rehearsed, he
said, "That sounds quite Mendelssohnian, it must be by Sterndale
Bennett."

His boys sang on many occasions--at church, at weddings, funerals, or
birthdays. I made great friends with some of them, and formed a regular
class to teach them English; but although they were very willing pupils,
I did not obtain as brilliant results in my line, as my predecessor,
Johann Sebastian Bach, had achieved in his.

Herr Magister Hohlfeld, the Professor of Mathematics, was a wonderful
old man--how old no one knew. He was a figure that belonged to the
middle of the last century. Clad in a long grey cloth coat, which
reached to his feet, he looked a curious relic of bygone times; cares
and calculations, worldly and scientific, had worked deep furrows all
over his lofty forehead, and had left their impress on every feature. A
rich crop of white hair fell over his shoulders; his hands on his back,
and his head slightly bent down, he would solemnly address the boards he
was treading, as he paced up and down between the two lines of
school-benches; it was given to few of us to catch the words of
mathematical wisdom that fell from his lips.

"The Frenchman" was another figure I look back to with interest. Not
that there was anything remarkable in his appearance, but that, when
judiciously roused to anger, he would never fail to make a fool of
himself. He was not a Frenchman, but a German born and bred, who taught
French, and happily for us he was so constituted, that it was a real
pleasure, unchecked by any fear of possible consequences, to take
advantage of his weaknesses. We did so, exercising our indiscretion
whenever we had a chance. A good opportunity presented itself during the
cherry season. We paved the particular part of the class-room he was in
the habit of promenading, with bad intentions i