as told that
the renowned Johann Adam Reinken, the 'father of German organists,'
played the organ at St. Katherine's Church in the city, he seized the
first opportunity that presented itself of tramping the whole way
thither in order to hear him. With Bach to listen was to learn; but to
enjoy this privilege he had to secrete himself in a corner of the
church where he could not be seen, for he had been warned that such
great players as Reinken resented the intrusion of strangers whilst
they were practising.

The deep joy of listening to such a master must have seemed to
Sebastian a fitting reward for his long tramp, and we may picture him
on his homeward journey, weary and footsore, but with his mind stored
with the memories of what he has heard. This visit to Hamburg was the
precursor of many others, though, of course, such expeditions could
only be undertaken when, by means of street singing, or in some other
way, he had contrived to save a few shillings to pay for food and
lodging. But he often went short of food rather than deprive himself
of a chance of hearing his beloved Reinken. On one occasion he had
yielded to the temptation of lingering at Hamburg until his funds
were almost exhausted, and he was confronted by the prospect of a long
walk with no means of satisfying his hunger until he reached the end
of his journey. Nevertheless, he set forth with a light heart, for his
stock of knowledge had been greatly enriched by the prolonged visit,
and, after all, what were five-and-twenty miles to the young musician,
possessed of limbs replete with strength and a head full of glorious
dreams?

He had not proceeded many miles, however, ere the keen wind made his
want of food painfully apparent, and the music within him became
drowned by the clamourings of Nature. At this juncture he found
himself opposite a small hostelry, from the open door of which a most
savoury odour was issuing--an odour so rich in the promise of all that
he needed that it brought him to a standstill. The kitchen window was
nigh, and he could not resist the temptation of peering into the room
to ascertain what was in preparation. At that moment he heard a window
above him thrown open, and a couple of herrings' heads were tossed
into the road. Probably some benevolent guest, attracted by the
youth's starving looks, had taken this means of bestowing upon him the
remains of his repast. The herring was a favourite article of food in
Germany, and poor