Front Cover
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Making something
 The tulip and the tri-colored...
 To a little girl, walking in the...
 Musical children
 A dream
 William Burton, the boy who would...
 Aunt Maria's swallows
 Back Cover

Title: Flowers for children
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00001989/00001
 Material Information
Title: Flowers for children
Series Title: Flowers for children
Physical Description: Book
Creator: Child, Lydia Maria Francis
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00001989
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: ltqf - AAA2153
ltuf - ALG4163
oclc - 45447165
alephbibnum - 002223908

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Advertising 1
        Advertising 2
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
    Table of Contents
        Page 7
        Page 8
    Making something
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
    The tulip and the tri-colored violet
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
    To a little girl, walking in the wood
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
    Musical children
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
    A dream
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
    William Burton, the boy who would be a sailor
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
    Aunt Maria's swallows
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
    Back Cover
        Page 193
        Page 194
Full Text


HUd~gual 19Z1 AMT:

103 uh. UIaOu St VANSVU AGM.


A Uniform Series of Choice Books for Young People.
FLOWERS FOR CHILDREN: by L. Maria Child. No. 1,
for Children eight or nine years old.
No. 2, for Children three or
four years old.
No. 3, for Children eleven or
twelve years old.
VnRAnCa, and Other Tales, by Mary Howitt, Mrs. S. C. Hall
and others.
by Mrs. Trimmer. Designed for the Instruction of Childres
respecting their treatment of Anlmail.
by Anne W. Abbot
FACTS TO Coa sCT FANCIM ; or Short Narratives com-
piled from the Biebraphle of Remarkable Women. By a Meo
&e.: by Mrs. S. C. Hall.
THE PRIVATE I'UIIR; Cr.LVERESS, and other Talcs;
by Mrs. S. C. HaIL
American Revolution: by Eliza Leslie.
Tin A Swis Tale. By a Mother: author of "Ahmys Hap-
py," True Stories from History," &c.
CLAssIC TALEs: designedd for the Instrlit and
Amusement of You Peroos. By the author l .rlean
Popular Leaons," &&e.
HOLIDAY STORES: jing five Moral T
Children : by Caroline
1 CaHRITMA GRIIrT ; Tw New Taklls the
Da ish of Hans ChriMs Adn
Young Family: by Mrs. Holand.
by the same.
-by the ame.
ALWAYS HAPPY or Anecdotes of Felix and his sister
Serea. By a Mother.
And other Interesting and LUeful Books.

Ll -J3OC.-Fnse 187.




She had tales for the grave and gay,
And each, like the bag of the bee,
Bore the honey that many a day
She had gathered from flower and tree."


Entered according to act of Congres, in the year 1846, by
C. 8. FRANC18 & po.
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern
District of New-York.

vatmRD 9T
M'o tow & FWaIat,
Bosto .





Making Something .............................. 9
The Tulip and the Ladies' Delight .............. .. U
Lines to Annette ............................. 49
Musical Children ................ ............... B
A Dream ........................................ 0
William Burton, the Boy who would be a Sailor .... 97
Aunt Maria's Swallows............................144
Lariboo. Sketches of Life in the Desert ........ 4


ES M CHANT and John
Carpenter were boys of the same
age. They were very near neigh-
bors; and as soon as they could run
alone, they were in thq habit of
talking to each other through peeping-
holes in the fence, that separated their
fathers' gardens. But though these chil-
dren grew up side by side, played togeth-
er, attended the same school, and read the
same books, their characters were very
unlike. Early education was one great
reason of this dissimilarity. One of the
first things James could remember, was
hearing his mother remark that her little
Jimmy's cap cost more than any other cap
in the village. When he wore it, he would
strut along, and call out to his playmates,
"See my cap It cost a dollar and a
half. You haven't got such a cap, none


of ye !" His mother would laugh, and
say, Dear little soul How proud he is
of his pretty cap."
John's mother was a very different
woman. She made a cap for him, and
when she had done it, she quietly observed
to a neighbor, It is quite a comfortable
little thing; is it not ? I made it from a
piece of my husband's coat. I was obliged
to contrive a little; but I cut my cap ac-
cording to my cloth."
When the boys were between six and
seven years old, James's father bought
him a small wooden horse, gaily painted,
and fastened on a platform with wheels.
James scarcely rolled it once across the
floor, before he ran into the next house,
exclaiming, See my horse It cost al-
most a dollar. Your father didn't bay
ou such a one." John looked at it with
g eyes; but James would not allow
OF take hold of the string. It is my
," said he: You may look at it;
ou mustn't touch it." Mrs.Carpen-
ter observed how busily her son examined
Every part, and she thought he would soon
ask her for money to buy one. But he
did not. As he passed through the wood-
house, on his way home from school, that


afternoon,he spied aqueer-looking summer-
squash, with a hard shell. He seized it,
and ran into the house, exclaiming eager-
ly, Mother! Mother may I have this ?"
Yes, my son," she replied; "but what
on earth do you want to do with it?" He
placed it on the table, with a look of great
satisfaction, and said, See there, mother !
If it only had legs, it would look very
much like a horse." He soon disappeared
with his treasure, and was seen no more
till he was called to supper. The next
morning, he exhibited the squash with four
sticks for feet, two bits of brown cloth for
ears, a tail made from the horse's mane,
and a saddle very neatly cut from an old
boot. It bore considerable resemblance to
a horse, though it was certainly rather stiff
in the joints. How to put him in motion
was the question. John meditated a great
deal upon that point. Perhaps it was the
reason he could not make his sum prove,
the next day at school. On his way home,
he went into a turner's shop, and peeping
among the shavings, he found four round
pieces of wood. The turner said he might
have them; and John, blushing and hesi-
tating, inquired whether it would be a great
deal of trouble for him to make a hole in

* *


the middle of each piece. The man asked
what he wanted them for, and John told
the story of the horse. "If you have made
a horse of a squash," replied the turner,
laughing, "I should like to see it. If you
have done it well, I will make the platform
and wheels." John went home on the
wings of the wind, and soon reappeared at
the shop with his squash. The men had
a great laugh at his workmanship. I
declare, though, he is an ingenious little
fellow," said the turner ; and he good-
naturedly bored the wheels, and fastened
the legs upon a platform. A proud boy
was John, when he went home, trundling
his horse behind him. When he brought
his steed to the door, he called out,
" Whoo !" with a loud voice, and sum-
moned all the family o look. His mother
smiled, and said, "It is a very good horse,
my smt; but it seems to me the ears are
rather too small." Why you see, moth-
er," he replied earnestly, I had to do as
you did about my cap. I had to cut the
ears according to my cloth." His mother
patted his head affectionately, and said,
"You certainly have a great deal of con-
trivance, my son." His father looked
pleased, and said, He has certainly done


it well, for such a little fellow. The saddle
is quite a pattern. I shouldn't wonder if
he made something, one of these days."
When John went to bed that night, he
asked, What did father mean by saying
he shouldil't wonder if I made something
one of these days ?" He meant that he
hoped you would be a capable man, quick
at contriving things," replied his mother.
" You have made a hore, you know; and
that is making something."
James was visiting an aunt in the next
town, on the important day when the horse
came home from the turner's shop. As
soon as he returned, John was all eager-
ness to show it to him. But James looked
upon it very coldly. My horse cost al-
most a dollar," said he; "and yours didn't
cost any thing. It isn't half so pretty as
mine." I had real fun in making it,
though," replied John ; and away he ran,
with his horse rolling after him. A few
weeks after, the squash began to be tflittle
wrinkled. "Look at your old horse now,"
said;James: "He iq all drying up."
" And yours has got his head broken off,
and lost two wheels," replied John. I
don't care for that," said his comrade.
" Mother will buy me another." More


squashes will grow next year," answered
John; and by that time, I shall be old
enough to make the wheels myself. It is
real fun to make things." He gave abun-
dant evidence that he liked such fun; for
he was all the time busy. Before he was
ten years old, the playground behind the
barn was ornamented with all sorts of
martin-boxes and wind-mills, made by his
own busy fingers. with very slight assist-
ance from his father.
One day, James came to him in high
glee, to show a treasure he had obtained.
" See here !" he exclaimed. Here are
four jack-knives and two pen-knives; real
good ones. A man sold them all to me
for a dollar." What are you going to
do with so many '" inquired John. "I
am going to sell them," he replied. At
a quarter of a dollar apiece, they.will be
as cheap as saw-dust; and I shall double
my money." Perhaps the man stole
them'; elser how could he sell them so
cheap 1" said John., I don't know,"
answered the young trader : All I kow
is that I shall make money." Make
money," repeated John, slowly and thought-
fully. To sell a thing for more than
you gave for it, does not make any thing.


Why do people call it making money 7"
James burst into a loud laugh. In a
few weeks, I will show you what I make,"
said he. Oh I understand that very
well," replied John. But I mean there
is not anything really made. There are
just as many things in the world as there
were before. I should like to see how
money itself is made. The cunning little
five-cent pieces, how pretty they must look
dropping out of the mint, all bright and
new !" I should like to hold my hat
:under and catch some," said James. And
I should like to know how to make them,"
rejoined his companion.
When James went, a few days after, to
how his neighbor the money he had gain-
d by trading in knives, he found him, as
sual, busy with his tools. WJat are
ou doing now V" he asked. I am go-
ng to teach Towser to churn," said John.
'While I am churning, he stretches him-
lf out under the tree and goe# to sleep.
think he may as well do something for a
ivin. People talk about working like a
og ; ut it seems to me dogs do not work
t all." James stood watching him, as
he shavings rolled from under his swiftly
moving plane. I declare," said he, "I


never saw such a fellow as you are. Yon
are always making something. For my
part, I like to make money, and I like to
So do I," replied John. But this is
play. It's real fun to make things."
In a few days, James was summoned to
see the dog churn, by treading continually
on an inclined plane, the motion of which
turned the crank of the churn. The boys
laughed and hurraed; but heavy old
Towser was far enough from being merry.
He looked extremely dignified and solemn,
stepping, stepping all the time, without
getting an inch a head. "I know what I
would do," said James. "I would take
Towser to the Museum, in the city, and
charge people sixpence for seeing him
churn." Towser don't like the city,",
replied John. Other do fight witH
him. Besides, I should g& dreadfully
tired, standing about, waiting. I should'
want to be* making something." Yot
would be making money," answ
James. I tell you that isn't m
anything," replied his comrade. "I we
to make a pail-tree for mother, and a wa
for Ann Eames. Her baby brother is
heavy, and her arms get tired lugging him


about." What on earth is a pail-tree 1'
inquired James. I mean a post with
branches like a tree, for mother to hang
her milk-pails on," answered the young
mechanic. James went off whistling, but
presently turned back and called out, I
say, John, Don't you mean to make a
spinning-wheel for the cat, next ?"
Ann Eames and Susan Brown, two
school-mates of the boys, took great pleas-
ure in coming to see Towser churn, in the
shade of a fine old elm tree. They often
brought a piece of meat for him, knowing
that his young master always rewarded
him with a good meal when he had finish-
ed his task. But though Towser was fed
bountifully for his trouble, and though he
had by his new acquirements become a
dog of distifetion in the neighborhood, he
evidently did not like the labor at all. As
n as the churn was brought out under
he elm, his ears drooped, and he sneaked
long, looking out sideways from the cor-
ers of his eyes, as if he were contempla-
ng some means of. escape. One day,
hen the butter did not come as soomn'u
sual, he set up a most piteous howl, ift
atinued howling all the time, till 1iq
2 U1


untied the string and released him. The
next time the cream was brought up from
the cellar, Towser was stretched out by
the door, and the kitten was rolling over
among his feet, now and then giving him
a cuff on the ear, or a pat on the nose,
which was her mode of saying, Here I
am, Towser !" He bore all her antics
with drowsy good-nature; but the moment
he saw the churn uncovered, he sprang on
his paws with such haste, that he upset
poor puss; and off he went, with long
steps, over ditch and wall, into the woods,
and was seen no more that day. The fam-
ily usually churned on Wednesday ; and
the next time the day came round, John's
father tied the dog to the elm tree very
early in the morning. He howled all the
time he was churning, And luned to be
very much out of humour during the rest
of the day. The next week, he skulked
off into the woods on Tuesday evening,
and did not make his appearance again
till the following night. For three weeks,
he regularly disappeared every Tueagay
evening. It was evident that the wise old
dg knew they churned on Wednesday.
W. Carpenter proposed to tie him, as early
as Tuesday noon; but John said, I had


rather you would not, if you please, father.
The more I think of it, the more it seems
to me that it would' be right to do the
churning myself. It must make poor
Towser very unhappy, or else he would
not run away as he does. I think myself
it must be tedious work for a poor beast to
keep walking, walking, and never getting
an inch ahead. Then you know he never
tastes the good sweet butter he makes. I
don't mind it that my arms are sometimes
tired when I churn ; for I have the satis-
faction of knowing that I am making but-
ter, and helping my mother. But poor
Towser gets tired without any satisfaction
at all; for he don't know what he does it
all for."
That's a good considerate boy," said
his mother. #he placed her hand upon
his head, and smiled upon him, as she ad-
ded, Always be kind and thoughtful
about the animals, my son. Never strike
them, and always remember that they need
their little enjoyments, and cannot speak
for themselves." The good father, too
placed a friendly hand on his shoulder,
and told him that he agreed with him per-
fectly. After that, the dog's unwillingness
to be a machine was respected by the whole


family ; but it was several weeks before
he ventured to stay at home on Wednes-
day. The first time he did so, he sneaked
round John, and looked up timidly in his
face, as if he was thinking to himself, I
am afraid you think I am an ungrateful
dog, and that it is mean of me not to be
willing to help you." One day, when
James found his comrade churning, he in-
quired where was the dog; and John re-
peated his reasons for being unwilling to
keep the poor beast at a task he so much
disliked. You are a queer fellow," re-
plied James, bursting into a laugh. How
hard you worked to make that churn-trot-
ter, and now you throw it aside, because
the dog does not fancy it."
I had the pleasure of contriving it, and
making it," answered his ACnd; and
that was worth a good deal."
His mother, who was washing her
milk-pails, near by, added, "And you
learned a lesson in curing selfishness; for
you liked better to do the churning your-
self, than to make the poor dog unhappy.
If Towser could reason about it, as well as
you can, I dare say he would wish to save
yen work, and would come and offer to do
it:" I am not so sure about that,


mother," replied John. "People talk
about working like a dog, but none of the
dogs of my acquaintance seem to have the
least taste for working." I said he
would be willing to work to help a friend,
if he could reason about it," rejoined she;
" for Towser is certainly very affectionate,
and loves you very much."
Not tong after, John went to visit his
mother's brother, who was a sea-captain.
He had a very delightful visit for his
uncle told him many stories of foreign
lands, and showed him a variety of carved
oars from the Sandwich Islands, and beau-
tiful ivory balls from China, and a com-
plete little ship, made by a Yankee sailor.
When he returned home, he was more
busy than ever. He was ambitious to
surprise his uncle with a ship of his own
making, finished even more neatly than
the one he had seen. During his visit to
the city, he had taken very particular no-
tice of the inward and outward construc-
tion of ships, and had inquired the reason
of every peculiarity in the different styles
of building. The industry and intelligence
with which he applied this newly-acquired
knowledge was remarkable. When Jams
met him dragging home a log of wood, al-


most too heavy for him to tug, he cried
out, What now '" Going to make
something," replied John, smiling. No
doubt of that," said James. You are al-
ways making something. But what gim-
crack are you going to make, now ?" A
ship for my uncle," replied John. This
log is for the hull." James rattled the
marbles in his pockets, and walked off,
whistling Yankee Doodle. While the ship
was in progress, he often came and stood
by, playing with Towser, and inquiring
the city prices of knives, fish-hooks, &c.
One day, instead of finding John at his
carpenter's bench, he met him going into
the woods, with a basket full of twigs
packed in wet mosses.
What have you there ?" inquired
James. Scions for grafting," answered
John. When I was with my uncle, I
met an old Norwegian sea-captain, who
told me a great many stories about Nor-
way. He said the first thing the boys
wanted to possess was a pruning-knife;
and they all learned to graft when they
were quite small. If they tasted any un-
commonly good apples or pears, they found
out on what tree they grew, and when
grafting time came round, they begged


some scions, and went off into the woods
to graft the trees. He said, it was mighty
pleasant, when travelling through the for-
est. to come unexpectedly upon these rich
boughs of pears and apples. I have been
thinking it would be very pleasant in this
country too. If these grafts do well, per-
haps, a few years hence, workmen going
through the woods, tired and thirsty, will
find boughs of juicy apples hanging right
over their path. They will not know that
John Carpenter put them there. But no
matter; they will have the comfort of eat-
ing them."
"And what will you make by your
trouble ?" asked his companion.
Make !" exclaimed John. Why, I
told you I should make apples."
But what good will that do you ?"
inquired James. What good? Why the
good of doing it, to be sure," replied John.
You are a strange fellow," said James.
"I never heard any body talk as you do."
And off he ran to catch another boy,
who wanted to trade with him for some
He often thought John was foolish to
spend so much time and labor upon his
ship; but when it was painted and com-


pletely rigged, he acknowledged it was
well worth all the trouble. It was in fact
very beautiful in its proportions, and fiq-
ished with extreme neatness. If it had
been big enough to launch, it would have
gone through the waters as swiftly and
gracefully as a swallow floats on the air.
Hurra !" shouted James, That is a-
bout the handsomest thing I ever saw. If
I were you, I would exhibit it in the city.
The boys would give a hat-full of coppers
to see it." "I should rather not stand
lounging about all day," replied John. I
had rather be grafting trees, or finishing
my bee-hives." "0 yes," said James,
laughing; of course, making money
isn't making any thing."
When the time arrived for the lads to
choose employment for life, their fathers
inquired what they would like to do. John
seemed to have as much mechanical tal-.
ent for one thing as for another ; but there
visit to his uncle, the sea-captain, and the
great number of Voyages and Travels he
had since read, determined his choice in
favor of making ships. The highest am-
bition of James was to tend a store in the
city, and become a rich merchant. His
mother was pleased with this preference.


I never wanted a child of mine to be a
mechanic," said she. Some boys seem
to be born with vulgar tastes; but I al-
ways thought my James had naturally a
genteel turn." John heard the remark,
but he was so busy making a bow and
arrow for Ann Eames, that he did not pay
much attention to it. If he had known
that she meant to insinuate he had a vul-
gar taste, it would not have troubled him.
He would merely have thought to himself,
" She is very much mistaken in supposing
it is vulgar to make things."
After the lads left their native village,
to pursue their respective employment,
they met but seldom. When James Mer-
chant was twenty years old, he was one
day going on board a ship about to be
launched, when he encountered the com-
panion of his childhood. They greeted
each other cordially ; but James glanced
at his friend's apron, and his paper work-
ing-cap, with a feeling of superiority. He
could not help saying, I wonder such a
smart handsome fellow as you are, John,
can be contented to be a mechanic. It is
considered vulgar, you know."
I do not ask what it is considered, but
what it is," replied John. To live in


this world without adding any thing to its
conveniences or ornaments, seems to me
disrepectable. If mechanical employment
is considered vulgar, the wisest thing I can
do is to dignify it by my own character and
"But how can you dignify it by your own
pursuits, when you are all the time wield-
ing the axe or the saw ?" inquired James.
I do not spend all my time thus,"
rejoined the sensible young man. "I
rest myself by studying mathematics,
learning to play on the flute, and attend-
ing lectures on Natural Philosophy. I
save a small portion of my wages every
month to purchase books. By and bye, if
I can afford the time and money, I will
study French; because I think it will en-
large the bounds of my knowledge, and
may prove useful to me in business. But
I will always keep to my tools a large
proportion of the time; for that is the tal-
ent nature gave me, and I think now, just
as I did when we were boys, that it is real
fun to make things."
The next Thanksgiving evening, the
young men met again at a ball in their
native village. James waited upon Susan
Brown, and John went with Ann Eames.


Some people remarked that they wondered
Ann did not set her cap for the young
merchant ; but the simple good girl never
thought of such a thing as setting her cap
for any body. She and John had fed the
same dog, and petted the same kitten, and
attended the same reading school, and the
same singing school, and the same dancing
school. She had loved him ever since she
could remember, and John had loved her.
If the son of the French king had come to
court her, she would have told him, in all
simplicity, that she could not love him so
well as she did John Carpenter. James
had always seemed to like the company of
Susan Brown very much, and it was con-
sidered a settled thing that each of the
young men would marry his favorite school
mate. But when they met again, after an
interval of five years, the following con-
versation took place between them : "I
have a store of my own now," said James.
"And I am master workman," said John.
"I am making money fast," said James.
"And I am making ships," replied John.
"I am engaged to a rich heiress," contin-
ued James. Her father has lent me a
handsome capital to start in business. I
shall make money by marrying."


"I am engaged to Ann Eames," said John.
"You know when I was a boy you never
could convince me that making money,
was making any thing. Sure I am it is
not making love; and I don't see )w a
home can be happy without love."
It so happened that the friends did not
see each other again for twelve years, and
then they met far from their native land.
Mr. Merchant was sent as commercial
agent to Turkey. As he sailed along that
bend of the Bosphorus called 'The Golden
Horn, and gazed with delight on the beau-
tiful amphitheatre of hills, adorned with
blooming gardens, and pure white mina-
rets, tipped with gilded crescents, the cap-
tain pointed out a noble vessel lying on the
stocks, and said, That is an American
vessel. It was built for the Turkish Sul-
tan by a Yankee named John Carpenter;
and proud enough the Sultan is of her."'
When they entered Constantinople, a
long procession was passing through the
streets, to the sound of gongs and cymbals,
tamborines and bells. The flowing Asi-
atic robes, with bright rainbow colors, the
gay turbans, belts flashing with jewels,
and horses in glittering harness, made a
splendid show. In the centre rode the


Sultan, distinguished by the superior ele-
gance of his embroidered robes, and by
the magnificent diamonds, which fastened
the feather of his turban. Behind him
were led two beautiful Arabian horses,
richly caparisoned, intended as a present
to the American mechanic. They were on
their way to witness the launching of the
new vessel, called Queen of the Bosphorus.
Mr. Merchant turned to follow the
crowd. He had scarcely come within sight
of the ship, 'when he was recognized by
the companion of his boyhood. A nod and
a smile was all he could find time to give
at the moment, for he was obliged to at-
tend to the reception of the Sultan and his
train on board the vessel. It was on all
hands agreed to be the best constructed
and most superb ship that ever rode the
waves of The Golden Horn;
When it was loosed from the fastenings,
apd slid majestically into the waters, all
the ships in the harbor run up their flags,
and fired salutes; and from the receding
shores of Constantinople was heard the
uproar of many voices, mingled with gongs
and cymbals. From the mast-head float-
ed the American flag, in honor of the Yan-
kee mechanic, and all the American sail-


ors in port waved their hats and hurraed
as it passed.
Mr. Merchant, who, amid the hurry and
confusion, had been eagerly beckoned on
board by his friend, took the earliest op-
portunity to congratulate him. This is
a proud ,',oment for you, Mr. Carpenter,"
said he; 'but I cannot help smiling to think
that he e too, I find you at.your old busi-
ness, making something. I am glad to
hear tnat you are likewise making money,
which you used to despise so much."
Oh no, I never despised wealth," re-
plied his friend ; but I like to have it
come to me as the natural consequence of
making something, which adds to the stock
of useful or beautiful things in this world."
And that is the very mode in which it
is coming to you," rejoined Mr. Merchant.
" I am told the Sultan makes great offers,
if you will consent to live. in Turkey. I
rejoice in your good fortune, but am sorry
we shall have to lose you."
I shall not remain here longer than two
or three years, at farthest," replied Mr.Car-
penter. Ann is lonely away from kin-
dred and friends, my children could not
have opportunities for education here,
and my good father and mother have need


of our presence. All the money I could
send would not make up for my absence.
Moreover, I have many plans for the ben-
efit of our native village. I have never
considered money worth the sacrifice of
usefulness, or happiness; for the simple
reason that use and enjoyment are all it is
god for."
I likewise mean to retire from busi-
ness, and take my comfort, when I have
made certain sum," rejoined Mr.Merchant.
"Take care you do not waste the
whole of life getting ready to live," replied
his friend, smiling. "As for leaving busi-
ness, I never intend to do it; for I know
very well that it is impossible to take
comfort without constant employment."
Mr. Merchant said no more on the sub-
ject; but speaking afterward to the cap-
tain, with whom he sailed, he remarked,
" Mr. Carpenter informs me he shall not
stay in Turkey long, notwithstanding the
generous offers made him by the Sultan.
He always had peculiar notions. When
he was a boy, he could never be made to
understand that making money was ma-
king any thing; and he seems to be of
the same opinion still."
If I were to judge from the rich men


of my acquaintance," replied the captain,
" I should be inclined to think he was not
far from the right conclusion."

When Mr. Merchant was about sixty
years old he retired from business, to tal
comfort,' as he said. He purchased land
in his native village, and built an elegant
country-seat, to reside in during the sum-
mer months. His mother, now eighty
years old, talked in the same way' she
used to do when he was a boy. She boast-
ed to every body that her son had the
handsomest house in the village, and was
the only man who kept a carriage. "It
was true," she said, that Mr. Carpenter
had two beautiful horses given him by the
Sultan of Turkey; but he was a man that
never made a show with any thing. He
and his son rode about on horseback, or
with a light travelling wagon, no more
stylish than half a dozen others in the
Mrs. Merchant was too fashionable to visit
quiet Mrs. Carpenter ; but her husband oc-
casionally called to see his old friend, who
had long since taken up his residence in


their native village. He was struck with
the extreme simplicity and substantial com-
fort that pervaded the establishment. In the
kitchen was every possible mechanical con-
trivance to diminish labor. In the cham-
bers were arrangements for hot baths and
cold baths. The orchard was loaded with
juit, the garden was blooming with flow-
There were a great variety of vines,
trained just enough to produce beautiful
effects, without disturbing the careless
grace of nature. In pleasant shady places
were little rustic seats, made of the boughs
of trees; and from a hollow log in the
wall flowed a small stream, which moist-
ened a rich bank of mosses and water-
The old gentleman was in his carpen-
ter's shop when his friend arrived, and
was so busy, he did not see him.
"At your old business, making some-
thing, eh '" said Mr.Merchant, striking hi
playfully, on the shoulder. "I did not
know what to do with myself, this long
day, and so I have come to ask how you
are getting on."-
"I am very glad tq see you," replied
ft 3


Mr. Carpenter, cordially shaking his hand.
" My plane made such a noise, that I did
riot hear you come in."
I was used to that, in old times," said
his friend. "As I came through the gar-
den, and saw all manner of little fountains
and garden chairs I said to myself, These
are all John's work, and I dare say I shil
find him making something."
"Yes, they are my work," replied the
cheerful old man. "I enjoy myself very
much making these pretty arrangements
for myself and neighbors. My wife has
a great fancy for cypress vines, and my
son has drawn an extremely pretty pattern
of a Gothic arch surmounted by a cross,
for her to arrange her vines upon. I am
trying to make the frame in a way that
will please them."
I should suppose a man of your pro-
perty would hire a mechanic to do it,"
said his visitor.
" "I am a mechanic myself," answered
he, with a good-humored smile; and
the older I grow, the more I am convin-
ced that the pleasure of life is not in hav-
ing things, but in doing tffings. But walk
in and see my family. Ann will be ex-
tremely glad to see her old school-mate.


You will stay and dine with us, will you
not 7 We ate going to have that real old-
fashioned Yankee dinner, baked beans and
an Indian pudding. I remember you used
to be extravagantly fond of them, when
we were boys."
Ah, those were happy days," said Mr.
Merchant, in a sad tone. "Every thing
tasted good then. But now I have the
dyspepsia to a dreadful degree, and am
obliged to be extremely careful what I
As they passed the dairy windows, they
saw Mrs. Carpenter busily moulding the
butter she had just churned. There is
my old school-mate !" exclaimed Mr. Mer-
chant. But, bless me, how young and
fresh she looks !" She nodded cheerfully,
as they passed, and came out to welcome
the vister, without stopping to change her
dairy apron.
"You are like your husband, I see; you
like to be making something," said he.
Yes," she replied, it is an amusement
to superintend my own dairy. It is a bles-
sing that we ae not obliged to work too
hard, in our oTR age; but we continue to
occupy ourselves, from a sincere love of
employment. When I have spent an hour


or two in my dairy, or tired myself a lit-
tle, gathering seeds, or transplanting roots
in my garden, it seems to add to the plea-
sure I take in copying my son's architec-
tural designs, or sketching with him some
pretty little point in the landscape. You
know I always had a turn for drawing.
When my son showed a decided talent for
it, I thought it would be a benefit to us
both, if I took lessons with him. He gen-
erally insists that my sketches are the best;
for, like most young men, he thinks his
mother does every thing better than other
people; from making pies to making land-
And I dare say he is in the right," re-
joined Mr. Merchant. "I remember, when
you were a girl, you always had a remark-
ably clever way of doing every thing you
undertook. But pray tell me how you
manage to live all the year round in the
country ? My wife complains that it is
very dull to stay here three months in the
year. I should think you would get sound
We do get sound aslee," replied Mr.
Carpenter; "and that whthink a great
blessing, considering we are particularly
wide awake when we are awake. We


have too much to do to find the days tedi-
ous. Perhaps you recollect that tract of
land,which they called The Pine Barrens
I purchased it all,at a low price. There is
enough for five small farms. I have cau-
sed soil from the river to be piled upon it,
and have taken various means to enrich
it. I have built five small houses, and let
them to poor industrious men. They pay
interest for what I have expended on the
portion they cultivate. The moment it a-
mounts to what I have paid, they own the
land and buildings, provided they have in
the meanwhile been steady and industri-
ous, have tasted no intoxicating liquors,
and regularly sent their children to school."
In other words, you give them the use
of your capital," said Mr.Merchant. But
what good does that do you I You make
no money by it."
But I follow my old plan of making
something," replied Mr. Carpenter, with
a smile. In the first place, I have made
for my native town five good farms, instead
of barren plains. In the next place, I have
improved thepndition of five families,
and made them happy in the conscious-
ness that they are daily earning a home of
their own. This puts heart into their work,


and makes the labor light. Even little
boys, of five or six years old, are busy
picking stones out of the ground, and pil-
ing them in a line ready to make walls.
I give every one of them a small wheel-
barrow, as soon as he has made five heaps
as high as himself. This clears the ground
at a rapid rate. Do you remember the old
Norwegian, who fired my youthful zeal to
graft the forest trees 1 He used to say that
boys were full of mischief, because nature
had made them active, and men had given
them nothing better to do. He insisted,
that if they had variety enough in their
employment, work would answer just as
well as play, and they would really like
it better than mischief and destruction.'
That was certainly the case with your-
self," said Mr. Merchant. It would be
difficult to hire a boy to work as diligently
as you did, for nothing but the pleasure
of it. By the way, some of those trees
are thriving still. I saw some of the boughs
full of apple-blossoms, as I rode through
the woods."
Ya, my friends at the Plains gather
the fruit, and bring me a barrel full of it
every year," rejoined Mr. Carpenter.-
They are as desirous to help me as I am


to help them; and there is no happiness in
the world equal to such a state of feeling.
I have given a library to the young peo-
ple, and add a new book eyery month.
Every boy who can show something he
has made during the month, has the f(e
use of the library. One brings a basket
another brings spools and rolling pins.
poor little fellow, who cannot move with-
out crutches, sends caps and mittens of his
own knitting. For him I have made a ve-
locipede, and no duke was ever prouder of
his carriage. Te every family, who for
five years have never used a whip on their
farm, I give a good cow. To every man,
who has not killed a bird during the same
time, I give four volumes of Natural His-
tory, with good engravings. My wife an-
nually gives a new calico gown to every
girl, who keeps a neat flower-garden ; and
to every boy,who has not disturbed a bird's
nest, or tormented any animal, during the
year, she gives the picture of a birdpaint-
ed by herself, and handsomely framed.
To attend to all this, in addition to our
own business, gives us plenty of occupa-
tion all the year round. It keeps us wide
awake when we are awake; and, as I tll


you, when sleeping time comes, we sleep
"I wish I could say as much," replied
Mr. Merchant, mournfully. "It is very
tedious to lie awake counting the strokes
of-the clock, hour after hour. But one
thing is pretty certain, Mr. Carpenter; you
will never grow rich, at the rate you are
going on."
Are we not rich in the love of these
poor friends 7" inquired Mr. Carpenter.-
Are we not rich in health and cheerful-
ness I Ask your own experience, whether
. the mere possession of money is real
There is no use in arguing the point,"
rejoined Mr. Merchant. All the talking
in the world would never persuade you
that making money is making any thing.
You have strange ways of your own. But
some how or other, while I listen to you,
I feel twenty years younger. I shall have
a hundred things done on my place, which
I never thought of before."
"If you would only do a hundred things,
instead of having them done," replied Mr.
Carpenter, you might even now find out
the truth of my boyish assertion, that it is
real fun to make things."



Mr. Merchant lived in his new country-
house only three seasons. His own health
was very poor, and his spirits depressed.
His wife found the country very dull, and
complained of being more and more ner-
vous and dejected. The doctor advised
her to work in the garden. She walked
languidly up and down the graveled paths,
with gloves and a sun-shade. If a flower
needed to be tied up, she sent a servant to
call the gardener; if seed needed to be gath-
ered, the gardener must be summoned to
do it. She told the doctor that gardening
did her no good. Her only son had no taste
for books ; but she insisted that he should
go to college, because it was considered
genteel. Not being employed in a manner
suited to his taste and his faculties, he ex-
pended his energies in mischief, and was
expelled from college. This made his pa-
rents more nervous and unhappy than ev-
er ; and the doctor advised them to go to
When Mr. Merchant went to bid fare-
well to the companion of his early 'y
he found him occupied with a large k,


doscope, raised to a level with his eye, and ,
made to turn on a swivel, so that one could
look into it without fatigue. Bright me-
tallic ores, of various colors, lay behind it.
in a focus of light, and the rays conveyed
by a reflector, formed the most gorgeous
Images within the kaleidoscope.
You are not yet tired of making some-
thing," said Mr. Merchant, smiling.
"No indeed," replied the cheerful old
man. "The difficulty is, I cannot find
time to make half the things I contrive in
my head. Look into this toy of mine. Is
it not a beautiful sight 1"
It is beautiful indeed !" exclaimed his
visitor. "I should not have imagined that
any thing so splendid could have been
made with such a common plaything."
He walked back and forth, thoughtful-
ly, then stopped abruptly, and said, Do
you know I am more and more convinced
that you are rightI 'Making money is not
making any thing."
Try a pew system, my friend," repli-
ed Mr. Carpenter, soothingly. Prune
your own trees, plant your own flowers,
try experiments with your own hands,
watch the results with your own eyes. In-
,asad of priding yourself on fruit that no


*one else can have, give grafts to all the
neighborhood. Instead of valuing a flow-
er according to its cost, value it according
to its beauty, or its fragrance, and offer
seed to every one who will rear it. The
whole country will thus become a garden,
and your eye will be refreshed wherever
you go. The longer I have lived, the
more I have been convinced that the plea-
sure is in doing, not in possessing, and
that the happiness we give is the only real
happiness we take."
It is too late," replied the rich man
with a sigh. The proverb say, It is
hard to teach an old dog new tricks.'
Even you could not make Towser churn,
you know. I have come to bid you fare-
well, my good friend. God bless you.
When I come back from Europe, I shall
doubtless find you making something."
But he never returned to his native
land. His friend survived him many
years, and remained active and cheerful
to the last. At seventy-eight years of age,
he was found, apparently in a sweet sleep,
in one of the arbors of his garden. By his
side was a rocking-horse, which he had
just finished for the deaf and dumb child
of a poor neighbor. His spectacles were


in one hand, and in the other a strip of
leather, which he had cut for a bridle.
The good old man died, as he had lived,
making something.


ei.HERE is a sweet little
flower, which blossoms
in the gardens of many
countries, and is known
by many names. In En-
glish, it is called Tricol-
ored Violet, Heart's-ease,
Forget-me-not, Ladies'-
delight, Johnny-jump-up, and Jump-up-
and-kiss-me. The Irish call it Two-faces-
under-a-hood. The French call it La
PensBe-vivace, which means the Lively-
thought, and La Fleur-de-Napoleon, or
Napoleon's-Flower. Nearly all its names
indicate what a bright little favorite it is.
It was Bonaparte's pet flower; and during
his reign, the French ladies used to wear
beautiful imitations of it on all their gar-
lands and dresses, to please the emperor.
The modest blossom never thought or
cared for such distinction. It thrives and


looks cheerful, wherever you plant it;
whether in sand, or clay, or loam. Rich
or poor, it is always happy, and does the
best it can to make the world look bright.
It seems in a hurry to bring us pleasure;
for it shows its lively little face as soon as
ever the snow melts from the garden walks.
Blessings on the darling I love it in my
heart !
One of these dear little blossoms once
came out in a pleasant country garden.
There it played Hide-and-go-Seek with
snow and sunbeams, weeks before the oth-
er flowers ventured to creep out of their
winter nests. Presently the Crocus came
along; then the Daffodil; then the Crown
Imperial; then the Tulips, in their gay
robes ; and amid their brilliant colors, the
modest little Violet passed almost unno-
At last, a great red Tulip, gaudily strea-
ked with yellow, spoke thus proudly to hei
unpretending neighbor : You little in-
significant thing, I wonder what you mean
by standing at my side all the time. From
day to day, I have expected to see you re-
turn into the ground, to enrich the soil for
your superiors. But every morning, if I
happen to cast my eye to the earth, there


I see you looking up in my face, as bright
and pert, as if you thought yourself as
handsome as any body."
I am not thinking whether I am beau-
tiful or not," replied the happy little flow-
er ; "but I grow as well as I can, and I
love to grow. I am not looking up at you,
thinking myself as well dressed as you
are. I look ever at the sunny sky, and
hold up my lips to catch the dew. I am
sorry it troubles you to see me always here;
for it gives me joy to throw my little flow-
ers in Flora's path all the year round, be-
cause I love to make the gardens and the
wayside beautiful. You are very hand-
some, Miss Tulip, and I rejoice in your
splendor, without wishing it my own. You
have your advantages, and I have mine.
I cannot be seen afar off, as you can ; but
if I cannot do as much as more brilliant
flowers, I will gladly do all I can. I shall
never, like you, be valued in Dutch markets
at my weight in gold; but I can do some-
thing that I like better. I can make all
the little children love me, and clap their
hands when I first peep at them. With
them the early comers are favorites ; and
I have courage enough to pop my head
out into the cold air, while you are snug


asleep under your coverlet. Then I am
their constant friend all the year round.
I kiss the icy hand of old Winter, and
nod at him a cheerful good-bye. I laugh
at the feet of Spring, and take all her ca-
price kindly, whether she pelts me with
hail-stones, or washes me with gentle show-
ers. I am not very strong under the hot
sunbeams, but I return the glance of Sum-
mer with the best smile I can; and I throw
a garland before the very last footsteps of
departing Autumn. You glitter in the
train of Flora for one brief month, and
then not a leaf is left above ground, to tell
that you ever tossed your handsome head
so proudly at poor little me. Tell me
truly, which do you think is most desira-
ble, to be the sparkling beauty of a day,
or the quiet little friend, who cheers all
seasons, and all weathers with her honest
sunny face ?"
The Tulip hung her head, and made no
answer. But if she were wise, I think she
would have answered, To be the kind
pleasant friend of every day, this is best.
Beauty is very agreeable to the eye, but
uniform good temper is the Heart's Ease
and Delight of life."


HITHm R art going, dear An-
nette I
Your little feet you'll surely
For don't you see the streamlet flow
Across the path where you must go
Your shawl is twisted out of place,
Your bonnet's blowing off your face;
You know not how the playful air
Is tangling up your curly hair.

Lady, my feet I often wet,
But it has never harmed me yet.
I love to have the fresh warm air
Playing about my face and hair;
IM. 4


It makes me lively, bright, and strong;
And clears the voice for my morning song.

But do you often go alone,
So far away from your own dear home ?
Not even a dog to frisk and play,
And guide you on your lonely way ?

My mother cannot spare the maid,
And I am not at all afraid.
The wind plays mischief with my curls,
But does no harm to little girls.
There cannot be a lonely way,
When Spring makes every thing so gay.
The birds are warbling forth a tune
To welcome dear delightful June ;
In the running brook, the speckled trout,
At sight of my shadow, glides about;
The little miller in the grass
Flies away for my feet to pass;
And busy bees, through shining hours,
Play hide-and-seek in opening flowers;
The bright blue sky is clear and mild ;
How can there be a lonesome child ?

Sweet wanderer in the cool green wood,
I know your little heart is good;


And that is why the fair earth seems
Just waking up from heavenly dreams.
There's something in your gentle voice
That makes my inmost heart rejoice.
Pray, if it be not rudely said,
What's in your basket, little maid 1

Lady, the nurse, who watched my slumber,
And told me stories without number,
Is now too ill to work for pay,
And she grows poorer every day.
Custards, and broth, and jellies good,
My mother sends to her for food.
I bring the water from her well,
And all my pretty stories tell.
Sometimes she loves to hear me read;
Her little garden I can weed;
And half the money in my purse
I gladly save for dear old nurse.
But if I stay to talk so free,
She'll wonder where Annette can be.

Farewell, sweet wdaderer of the wood,
I knew your little heart was good;
And that is why the fair earth seems
Just waking up from heavenly dreams.


the greatest among musi-
cians, was born in 1684,
at Halle, in Saxony. In
early childhood, he be-
trayed a very strong in-
clination for music. But
his father, who was a
physician, wished him to be a lawyer; and
fearing that music would distract his at-
tention from study, he carefully kept him
out of the way of musical company, and
would not allow a musical instrument of
any kind to be in the house. It happened
however, that in some house which he fre-
quented, he heard a person play on a harp-
sichord; and his eager desire to practise
what he heard was increased by the fact
that he never heard any instrument at
home. The boy was so unhappy, that an


old servant in the family took pity on him,
and helped him to procure a small clavi-
chord, which he hid in the garret. When
every body else was asleep, the child prac-
tised diligently, and soon learned to play
extremely well, without the slightest in-
When he was about seven years old,
his father went to visit a son much older
than Frederic, who lived with the Duke of
Saxe-Weissenfels. The child had a very
great desire to go, and being refused, he
followed the carriage out of the yard, cry-
ing. His father, seeing the tears roll down
his cheeks so plentifully, stopped and took
him in.
He was allowed to ramble about the
duke's palace as he liked, and he could not
resist the temptation to play on a harpsi-
chord, whenever he met with one. One
morning, after religious service in the cha-
pel, he stole up to the organ, and began to
touch it before the Duke had gone out.-
Something singultf4n the style of playing
attracted the duke'sattention, and he in-
quired. who was at the organ 7 He was
very much surprised when he was told
that it was a boy of seven years old. He
immediately sent for the father, and told


him this was no common case; that the
boy had very remarkable genius, and ought
to be allowed to devote his time and ener-
gies to music, because he would certainly
distinguish himself in that, and would nev-
er be able to do any thing else half so well.
His father, thus entreated, consented that
he should receive a musical education. He
improved so rapidly, that before he was
nine years old, he composed several motets
of such merit that they were adopted into
the service of the church; and from that
time, he composed a new cantata every
week, for three years. He afterwards be-
came the most renowned of musical compo-
sers. HiR productions are of a grand and
elevated character. The Oratorio of the
Messiah is the most celebrated.

JOHN SEBASTIAN BACH was born in 1685,
at Eisenach, in Germany. He belonged to
a family noted for musical talent for many
generations; but he was the most distin-
uished of them all. His father died when
e was ten years old, and he was left in
the care of an elder brother, who was an
organist. His brother instructed him in


music, but he found his lessons too easy,
and begged for compositions more diSenlt
to practise. His brother, not being awAue
of his superior abilities, and fEauj pe
would not be sufficiently thorough, rfoed
his request. The boy looked with longing
eyes upon a book containing pieces for the
clavichord, by the most celebrated compo-
sers of the day. At last, he got possesaon
of it secretly. It was kept in a closet,
which had a door of lattice-work. He
could pass his small hand through some of
the open spaces, and, by rolling the music
up, could draw it through, and afterward
replace it carefully. While others were
asleep, he copied the precious notes; and
having no candle, he was obliged to work
by moonlight. It took him six months to
finish this laborious task ; but his eager
desire to practise the difficult music gave
him patience. He had just copied tl% &aL
notes, when his brother discovered whaf
he had been doing, and took the smasw
script away from him. He was doubtli
afraid that his pupil would not be sui-
ciently slow and thorough in obtaining
elementary knowledge of music; there-
fore, his motive was a good one; but it
seemed cruel to deprive the patient lit&



fellow of what he had toiled so long to
obtain. He did not recover his treasure,
until some time after his brother's death.
He gained great distinction by his talent
and learning, and his compositions, which
are mostly for the church, are of a grand
and profound character, and maintain a
very high rank in the musical world. One
of the most observable features of his char-
acter was uncommon modesty. When ask-
ed how he had made himself so great a
master of his art, he answered, I was
obliged to be industrious. Whoever works
as hard, will succeed as well."

JoseEP HAYDN was born in 1732, at
Rohrau, a village of Austria. His father
was a poor wheelwright, and sexton of the
parish'. Both he and his wife were very
fond of music. On Sundays he used to
play on the harp, while she accompanied
him with her voice. These home concerts
delighted little Joseph amazingly. At five
years old, he used to get a board and stick,
on such occasions, and play that he accom-
panied his parents on a violin. His father
ad a cousin Frank, who was a school-


master and musician. He observed that
the little fellow kept time very accurately,
and he offered to educate him. The pro-
posal was very gratefully accepted, and he
immediately began to teach him Latin, to
play on the violin and other instruments,
and to sing at the parish church. But
Haydn used to say, he gave him more
cuffs than gingerbread.
Reiiter, chapel-master at Vienna, came
to the village in search of singers for St.
Stephen's cathedral. His attention was
attracted by the fine voice of Joseph
Haydn, then eight years old. He was sur-
prised at the exactness of his execution,
and the beauty of his voice. Observing
that he did not perform the shakes, he
asked him the reason. How can you ex-
pect me to shake, when my cousin Frank
does not know how himself 1" relied the
I will teach you," said Reiiter. He
took him between his knees, and showed
him how he should rapidly bring together
two notes, hold his breath, and agitate the
palate. Joseph immediately made a good
shake. Reiiter was so delighted, that he
took a plate of fine cherries, which cousin
Frank had presented to him, and emptied


them all into the boy's pocket. In his
manhood, Hadyn often told this story with
a laugh. He said, whenever he performed
a shake, he still seemed to see those beau-
tiful cherries.
ReOter carried him to Vienna and placed
him in the choir, where he remained eleven
years, devoting himself to music with un-
remitting industry.
At ten years old, he composed pieces for
six or eight voices. In his first attempt at
composition, he was very much troubled
by want of knowledge. The chapel-master
gave no instruction in counterpoint, and
the boy was too poor to pay for a master.
He bought some old books on the subject,
which were very imperfect and obscure,
but he had the patience and industry to
labor through them unaided. He was
poor all friendless, and lived in a misera-
ble garret; but afterward, when he came
to be the favorite of princes, he often said
those youthful days were the happiest of
his life, because he was always so busy,
and so eager adding to his stock of knowl-

Haydn became one of the most celebra-
ted among musicians. "Mis compositions
are usually of a clear serene character, like


a grand or beautiful landscape in the sun-
shine. The oratorio of the Creation is
considered his greatest work.

LIEB MOZART, son of a musician of consid-
erable reputation, was born in 1756, at
Salzburg, in Germany. When a child of
three years, he excited remark by the live-
ly attention he paid to lessons on the harp-
sichord, given to his sister, then -rather
more than seven years old. It was then
his favorite amusement to find out thirds,
and other harmonious intervals on the in-
strument, and when he discovered them
he was delighted- beyond measure. At
four years old, after listening to con-
certo, he always remembered the I per-
fectly; and in half an hour hduld
learn to play a minuet on the harp rd,
with perfect correctness. Very often, he
composed little pieces of music for himself,
as he played. His father used to write
them down, and so of them are still
He was earucsstomed to see his
father copying a sic and, as soon as he


could hold a pen, he began to imitate this
employment. One day, when the father
came home from church with a friend, he
found little Wolfgang very busy with pen
and ink.
What are you doing there ?" said he.
"Writing a concerto for the clavier,"
replied the boy:
Doubtless it must be something very
fine," said the father, smiling; let us
look at it."
At first, he and his friend began to laugh,
for the notes looked like a blackberry pud-
ding, and were almost illegible. The lit-
tle composer had been so intently occupied
with arranging his music, that he dived
his pen deep down into the inkstand, and
dropped a great blot on the paper every
time he took it out. These blots he wiped
away.*th his hand, and went on scrib-
bling. 'When his father had looked at the
manuscript long enough to decipher it, he
perceived there was both method and mu-
sic in it. He was affected even to tears at
such a proof of genius in his little son.
See !" said he to.his friend; this is
written with a full --ts of accompani-
ments, yet how corr *But nobody
could play it, the music IW very difficult."


"It is a concerto," rejoined Wolfgang,
"and must be practised before it can be
performed. This is the way it ought to
go ;" and he tried to play it, but could on-
ly give a general idea of the effect he
wanted to produce.
The same eagerness and intelligence was
manifested in every thing to which he turn-
ed his attention, whether play or study.
At one time he had a great passion for
arithmetic, and the floor, chairs, and tables
were covered with figures; so busy was he
with his Jittle calculations. In childish
games he was often so interested, that he
would entirely forget to eat. But he soon
ceased to care much about any play, un-
less music were mixed with it. Andreas
Schachtner, a musician, was an intimate
friend of his father, and an especial favor-
ite with little Wolfgang. When thlbcom-
panion was with him, he delighted to have
a march played on.some instrument, while
the family carried his playthings from
room to room in procession.
When he was six years old, somebody
presented him with a little violin, suited to
his size. On this illiment he displayed
a more surprise of talent, than he
had befbre done' l he clavier. Soon af-


ter he received it, his father was one day
rehearsing a new piece of music, with sev-
eral other performers, among whom his
favorite Mr. Schachtner was to play the
second violin. Little Wolfgang begged
hard to play that part himself; but his fa-
ther told him it was impossible, because
he had never received any instruction on
that instrument. The boy answered, that
he did not think a person needed any
teaching to play the second violin part. His
father bade him go away, and not disturb
them with his teasing. He went off with
his little violin, crying so bitterly, that his
good-natured friend begged that he might
be allowed to come back and play the sec-
ond violin part along with him. The fa-
ther consented, provided he would play
very softly, so as not to confuse the other
musicians by his mistakes. But the boy
played so' well, that Mr. Schachtner soon
found there was no occasion for him. He
therefore quietly laid aside his violin, and
looked expressively at the happy father,
who could not help shedding tears of de-
light when he heard his. child play with
such perfect correct ,le was so en-
couraged by his ow that he wan-
ted to try the first vto.' "For'amuse-


ment, we encouraged him to try,"
Mr. Schachtner, and we laughed heart
at his manner of getting over the difficul-
ties of this part, with incorrect and ludi-
crous fingering, indeed, but still in such a
manner that he never stuck fast."
He was particularly partial to Mr.
Schachtner's violin. On account of its
smooth soft tone, he always called it the
butter fiddle.' One day, when this friend
came in,Wolfgang was playing on his own
little violin. "Why did you not bring
your buyer fiddle T' said he; If you
have not tuned it, since I played with you
the other day, it is half a quarter of a tone
flatter than my violin." The family all
laughed at "this extreme exactness of ear
and memory but the violin was sent for,
and it proved that the boy was correct.
The sharp sound of a trumpet pained
his ear exceedingly. He had the greatest
possible fear of it. His father thought to
cure him of this terror, by making him ac-
customed to the sound; but he turned pale
and sank on the floor at the first blast, and
would probably have gone into fits, if the
sound had bey repeated.
His sister, 'i Anna, nearly five years
older than he, was a remarkably skilful


performer on the clavier. When Wolfgang
was six years old, their father took both the
children to Vienna, where they played be-
fore kings, princes, and nobles, and every
body was delighted with them. The em-
press gave the little musician an elegant
suit of clothes, with broad golden borders,
made for her own son, and gave to his sis-
ter a rich robe of embroidered taffeta, made
for one of the little princesses. Wealthy
people invited them, and sent .their carri-
ages for them, and from all classes of peo-
ple they received the most flattering atten-
tions. But in the midst of all his honors,
Wolfgang remained a simple, artless child.
He loved every body that seemed to have
a kind heart, and spoke candidly without
any regard to rank. He jumped up in the
lap of the empress, and kissed her as hear-
tily as if she had been his own mother.
When he heard one of the young princes
play badly on the violin, he exclaimed,
'Ah that was out of tune !' But presently,
he called out, Bravo! that was well
done!' One day, when two of the little
princesses were leading him across the
room, being unused to a floor so highly
polished, he slipped and fell. One of the
royal children took no notice of the acci-



dent; but the other, who was afterward
Maria Antoinette, queen of France, helped
him torise up, and tried to comfort hun.
"You are very kind to me," said he; "I
will marry you, because you are so good."
His disposition was always extremely
affectionate. Many times a day, he would
ask his father and mother, anwsister, Do
you love me ?' and if they di not answer
very readily, the tears would come into his
eyes. He. composed a little tune, which
must be sung, with certain formalities, ev-
ery night before he went to bed. Stand-
ing in a chair by his father's side, he sang
one part, while $is father sang the other.
At the pauses, and after the conclusion, be
would kiss his father on the tip of the noe,
and, having thus expressed his childish
love, he would march off to bed perfectly
He continued this custom until after he
was nine years old. He was always gen-
tle and obedient, and so attentive to the
wishes o his parents, that he would never
accept a present, or eat any thing that was
offered him, until he had obtained their
permission. It was never necessary to re-
peat any orders twice, except on the sub-
iiI 6


ject of music. He would get so absorbed
in his own compositions, that he would
neglect both food and sleep, and it some-
times became necessary to drive him away
from the instrument.
After their journey to Vienna, his father
took him to the principal cities of Germa-
ny, Bavaxia, France, Italy, and England.
He was then eight years old. He played
admirably-on the clavier, the organ, and
the violin; could sing or play the most
difficult music at first sight, and make an
unlimited variety of new melodies to any
bass musicians chose toloffer him. In vain
they tried to puzzle th4 child ; he could
always do, with perfect ease, more than
they required of him. At Heidelberg, his
performance on the great city organ aston-
ished the people so much, that his name
was ordered to be engraved on the instru-
ment, as a perpetual remembrancer.
At public concerts, it was common to try
him witlhthe most difficult pieces of Han-
del, Bach, and other great composers,which
he always played at sight, with perfect
correctness and proper expression. John
Christian Bach, music-master to the queen,
took him between his knees, and played a
few bars of a difficult sonata; when he


paused, the boy commenced; then Bach
played a few bars again; and thus play-
ing by turns, they went through the whole,
as perfectly as if done by one pair of hands.
A writer in Paris, says : I have seen
this boy engage in contests of an hour and
a halfs duration, with musicians who ex-
erted themselves to the utmost and even
perspired great drops; to acquit themselves
with credit in an affair that cost him no fa-
tigue. He has routed and put to silence
organists who were thought very skilful in
London. He is moreover one of the most
amiable creatures that can be conceived.
In all that he do& and says, there is spir-
ituality and feeling, adorned by the pecu-
liar grace and gentleness of childhood."
In the midst of all his public concerts,
and the multitude of people who came to
see him, he was so diligent, that he found
time to compose a variety of symphonies,
sonatas, quartetts, &c. which were greatly
admired. The Hon. Daines 4arrington
heard it often repeated by envious people,
that the boy was not so great a prodigy as
he seemed; that he studied and practised
music beforehand, and then pretended he
played it at first sight. In order to satisfy
himself on this subject, he carried to him


the score of a new duet of his own, which
no person had seen, and the child instantly
played and sang one of the parts, without
the slightest effort. A succession of exper-
iments were tried to puzzle him, but in
vain. Yet he was such a mere child in
habits and manners, that Mr. Barrington
says, While he was playing to me, fa,
vorite cat came in; upon which he left the
harpsichord, nor could we bring him back
again for a considerable, time. He would
likewise run about the room with a stick
between his legs, by way of a horse."
The same boyish spirit is shown in the
following letter about his bird, written to
his sister, from Naples. Pray write to
to me how is Mr. Canary 1 Does he sing
still ? Does he pipe still ? Do you know
why I think of the Canary ? Because there
is one in the front room here, which makes
a G just like our Canary." He meant
that the bird sounded the note G in the
same manner.
His simple affectionate nature always
remained uninjured by fame or faltery.
Once, when he woke in the nigl be
gan to cry bitterly. Being asked dB.j4a-
son, he named over several favonts si-
cians, with whom he was in the hait of


playing at hpme .in Germany, and. said
that he wanted to see them so badly, he
could not help crying.
His father writes : At Florence, we
met an English boy, who plays exquisite-
ly, and who is just of Wolfgang's size and
age. The other day, this charming boy
brought hisg violin to us, and played the
* whole afternoon. Wolfgang accompanied
him o~ his violin. The following day, we
dined with the treasurer of the grand duke;
and there the two boys played the whole
afternoon; not however as boys, but as
men. Little Thomas accompanied us
home, and cried bitterly on learning that
we weie going to set off the next day; but
finding that our journey was fixed for noon,
he came to us by nine in the morning, and
presented Wolfgang with some verses he
had got a poetic friend to write for him the
night before. He accompanied our coach
to the city:gates. I wish you could have
witnessed this scene." This Efiglish boy,
named Thomas nley, was drowned when
Tentylbne year old. Mozart
t him. In later life, he seldom
Sfnglishman, without speaking of
th ily friend.
n the family returned to Vienna,


they encountered a great deal of trouble,
arising from the envy of musicians, who
had grown weary of hearing the praises of
young Mozart, and were vexed to be thus
eclipsed by his genius. They said that his
success was owing to trickery, that he was
older than he passed for, &c. The good
father tried to satisfy their doubts, by giv-
ing them the most undeniable proofs of his
own veracity, and of his son's remarkable
powers. But they did not wish to be con-
vinced. For fear they might be compelled
to acknowledge his merits, or lose their
own reputation as good judges of music,
they would avoid hearing him; and then
if asked what they thought of any.gpmpo-
sition or performance of Mozart, they c"Id
answer, We have not heard it.' '1ThFf
is too much of this mean and selfish spirit
among artists. Indeed, the least particle
of it is too much. We ought to delight in
all beautiful works of art, as we do in the
sunshine and flowers.
When Mozart was twelve years old, he
composed an opera, at the sug~w.n of
the empror. But the jealous i a
repeated it so badly, and put so Vytb-
stacles in the way, that his father uW o-
bliged to give up having it performed.


Such ungenerous efforts had no perma-
nent effect. Every year of his life, MozaM
increased his fame by new and beautify'
productions; and though he died at thirty-
five years of age' he left a name renowflbd
throughout the world, No music excels
his in tenderness of expression, in simple
graceful melodies, and beautiful changes
Sof harmony. Modern improvements in
the art are more owing to him, than to any
other composer.
No one ought to ty to compose music,
unless it comes to Jim by nature. If a
person has a good ear, patience and prac-
tice will enable him to perfomn well; but
nothi$ original or beautiful can be com-
pq"O", without that gift of the soul called
Uimus. A boy, who could play extremely
well on the piano, asked Mozart to teach
him how to compose music. The great
artist told him to wait. But you compo-
*sed when you were a boy," replied he,
somewhat abashed; and I thought you
might tell me what books would best teach
,me how. to do it." Mozart patted him on
the cheek kindly, and answered, "I com-
posed because I could not help it, and I
never asked hot to do it." He pointed to
his ear, head, and heart, and said play-


lly, If the music is there, all will come
t. If not, books will not bring it."

WILLIAM CROTCH was born in Norwich,
England, in 1775. His father, who was a
carpenter, had made a small organ for his
own amusement; and, when William was
a year and a half old, he would touch the
key-note to show what tune he wanted
played; and if his father did not under-
stand him, he would play the first three or
four notes himself. When he was two
years and three weeks old, a celebrated
musical lady came to play upon his father's
organ. The child was amazingly delight-
ed to hear her ; and after she was gone
he became so fretful that nothing his mo-
ther could do would quiet him. When
carried through the dining room, he spread
his hands toward the organ, and cried ind *
Would not be pacified till they allied
him to go and bend down the keys witlfhis
little fits. There was nothing very sur-
prising in this, for children always want
to make a jingling noise. But the next
day, when his mother went out and left
him alone with his elder brother, he would


not rest, till his brother blowed the bellows
of the organ, while he played. At first, he
rattled over the keys without any order,
just as ahy very little child would do; but
in a few minutes, i# played God Save the
King so well, that his father, at work in
the garret, came down to see who was at
the organ, He could hardly believe his
* own senses, when he saw that it was little
William. He waited with impatience for
the mother to come home. When she ar-
*I rived, he put on a very mysterious look,
and asked her to go intaothe dining-room,
where he had something very curious to
show. She was as much surprised and
pleased as the father had been,to hear their
little one play God save the King. One
part he did not play with perfect correct-
ness, because two succeeding sounds were
octaves, and he could not stretch his little
fingers to reach the eighth note. After
that, he was allowed to play on the organ
whenever he liked. He learned different
airs with facility, and sometimes intermix-
ed them with little variations of his own,
which were always agreeable, because his
ear had a natural aversion to inharmonious
At two years old, he was often smt for


to amuse the public by his uncommon tal-
ent. When he was three years old, his
mother took him to Cambridge and London,
where he excited much astonishment by
his performances on the organ. In his
fourth year, he playti before the royal
family, at St. James's palace, with great
applause; and every body was charmed
with his artless, playful, infantile manner. *
He could then repeat any tune he heard
once, and if he heard the key of an in-
strument struck in the next room, his ear
was so sensitive to sound, that he could in-
stantly tell what note it was. So many
people went to hear him, that he would
sometimes get very tired, and could not be
coaxed to play any more ; but if anyone
else struck a wrong note, he weuld& se
up, and instantly place his finger one
right one.
He afterward received regular instruc-
tion at Oxford, where he was appointed
organist, in his eighteenth year, and after-
ward doctor and professor of music. He
was a very well-informed and modest man;
but he had merely a talent for acquiring,
without genius for creating. He gave
lessons on the piano for twenty years, and
arranged for that instrument many compo-


sitions of the first masters. Of his opa
compositions, only one excited any att
tion, and that was an oratorio called P
estine. "

SAMUEL WESLEY, the son of a clergyman,
* and nephew of the celebrated John Wes-
ley, founder of the Methodists, was born
at Bristol, England, in 1766. He first at-
tracted attention by the great delight he
took in hearing his older brother play. If
the music teacher came, and Charles began
) his lesson without first calling little Sam-
uel, he would cry as if he had been beaten.
DWjng the lesson, he would stand near
uPkother all the time, and play on a
ajir, as if he were accompanying him.
Sometimes, when he was practising Han-
del's oratorios, in the evening, he woRj
join.in with his voice, and even find f
with the,playing, when he thought it n-
When he was between four and five
years old, he got hold of the oratorib' of
Samson, and by that alone he taught him-
self to read words; after that, he learned
the notes, and soon after taught himself to


write. At five years old, he kne* all Han-
d*e Messiah by heart, both words and
noKs. Whenever he heard his brother be-
gin to play, he could tell at once from
what composer the music was taken, and
what part of the sonata, or overture, it was.
Haw composed much music before he
could write. The airs of an oratorio call-
ed Ruth, he composed before he was six
years old, and laid them up in his memory
till he was eight, and then wrote them
down. He was never taught to write mu-
sic, but merely from his own -observation
he could write out all the parts of any
thing he composed ; and though he wrote
rapidly, he seldom made any blot or miiis-
take. o d
Dr. Boyce, a musician of consider
distinction, called to see him one day, when ,
he was eight years old, and said to his fa- *
thr, Sir, I hear you have got an Eng-
lish Mozart in your house. YoungLitRey
tellbme wonderful things of him.' ~am-
uel was called, and soon brought Jard
the score of his oratorio of Ruth, whicthhe
was then writing down. The doctor was
extremely well pleased with it. "These
airs are some of the prettiest I have ever
seen," said he. This boy writes by na-


ture as true a bass, as I can by rule and
Before he was ten years old, he could
perform the most difficult music on the
harpsichord, or organ, at first sight, not
only with correctness, but with taste.
When he was eleven years old, eight of
his compositions for the harpsichord were
published, with his engraved likeness.-
They are said to evince much science and
taste, but did not become fashionable, be-
cause they contained passages too difficult
for most performers. At the same age, he
composed a march for one of the regiments
) of Royal Guards. The Hon. Daines Bar-
rington, thinking it would please the boy
to hear his march performed by the band,
*to him to the parade ground. It was
the first piece they played; but when Mr.
.Barrington asked him if he was pleased
with the performance, he answered, B"
no means.' He was then introduced 3-
several of the musicians, tall stoutfellows,
and they were told that this boy, who had
a remarkably delicate ear for music, was
not pleased with their manner of playing
the first march.
What do you complain of?" inquired
one of the band, carelessly.

77 #


I complain that you have not done jus-
tice to my composition," replied the boy.
"Your composition !" they exclaimed,
and looked at him with a mixture of sur-
prise and derision.
With modest calmness he answered," Yes,
gentlemen, that march is my composition,
and you have almost spoiled it in the play-
ing." They excused themselves by say-
ing that they had exactly copied the man-
uscript placed in their hands.
"The hautbois and bassoons have done
so," he replied, "but the French horns
have not." The original score was pro-
duced, and he pointed out the mistakes
that had been made.
The musician listened to him very re-
spectfully, and the march was played .ain
more correctly, at the end of the paradeN
which, with military exactness, closed at
precisely-five minutes after ten. Mr. Bar-
rington asked him whether he tas pleased
this time ? He said, Very much ; but it
ought not to be reserved for the last piece;
because the great clock of the Horse Guards
strikes ten before it is finished, and the
tone of the clock does not harmonize with
the key-note of the march."
'This boy had nobler gifts than a quick


ear, and a talent for music; he had deli-
cate feelings, and a kind heart. Mr. Bar-
rington asked him to compose an easy
melody for master Crotch, then little more
than two years old. He did so, and they
went together to hear him play it. But
William was tired, and out of humor.-
Master Wesley did all lie could to please
him. He even consented to play upon a
cracked violin for his amusement. But
the baby was not in a mood to entertain
visitors, and he could not be coaxed.
When the company found out who young
Wesley was, they insisted that he should
play on the organ ; but this he constantly
declined. As he was generally very will-
ing to oblige people, Mr. Barrington, on
their way home, inquired why he had re-.
fused to play, when so much urged. I
did not hke to do it," he replied; "I was
afraid the friends of little master Crotch
might think I wished to shine at his ex-
Samuel Wesley lived to be nearly sev-
enty-two years old. He composed a great
deal of organ music, which maintains a
high rank in the opinion of scientific
judges. He was a great admirer oT Sebas-
tian Bach, and, like him, his music was


mostly of an elevated and solemn charac-
ter, such as anthems, motets, and other
compositions for the church.

ANGELICA CATALII was born in 1784, at
Sinigaglia, in Italy. She was educated at
the convent of St. Lucia, near Rome.
When only seven years old, her full rich
voice attracted great attention. Immense
crowd .ame to listen to her, and there
was soIuch pushing and disputing for a
chance to get near enough to hear, that the
magistrates were obliged to interfere. In
order to preserve the peace of the town,
they forbade her singing any more at the
convent. At fourteen years old, she ap-
peared as a public performer, and soon be-
came very celebrated throughout Europe.

Mas. WOOD, who is such a favorite sing-
er, both in Europe and this country, like-
wise gave very early indication of musical
talent. When she was five or six years
old, being on board a steam-boat, for the
first time, she was much attracted by the


puffing of the engine. What makes that
noise 7" she asked. Being tokl it was the
steam going off, she listened very atten-
tively; then running up to her father, she
exclaimed, Papa, the steam is going of
in the key of A." He struck his tuning-
fork, to ascertain the pitch of sound, and
smiled to find it was just as his little girl
had said.

NIoo.o PAGAAINI was born at (c a, m
Italy, in 1784. As soon as he could held
a violin, his father made him sit beside
him, and play almost from morning till
night. This injured the poor child's health
so seriously, that through his whole life he
was nervous, feeble, and haggard in his
appearance. His father is said to have
been a very avaricious man, and to have
cared less for his child's welfare, than for
making money by his talent. Nicolo was
urged on by his mother, likewise, who was
very ambitious that he should become a
famous musician. When he was a very
little fellow, she held him on her knees,
and told him she had dreamed that an an-
iII. 6


gIl came to her and said her son would be
one of theimost celebrated performers in
the' World.
When he 'as in his eighth year, he com-
posed a sonata, and his performances'were
%ostidered do' Vmarkable, that he was of-
tenl ddled dpon to play in churches, and
ht inmYical parties. Hid'first public ap-
pearance was at Genoa, when hf was in
his ninth year. The applause he received
greatly excited his father's hopes of mak-
ipg hi*g very profitable. He took him to
Rolla, a distinguished musician in Parma,
and asked him to give him lessons. When
they called, he was ill in bed, and the
boy, being left in an adjoining room, began
to play one of Rolla's concertos, which he
saw lying there. The composer started
up in his bed, much excited, and could
hardly believe that what he heard was the
performance of a little boy. I can teach
him nothing," said he ; you had better
go to Paer.'
Paer was a distinguished composer of
operas, and Nicolo studied under his direc-
tiEt six months. During this period, he
composed twenty-four fugues for four
hands, without the aid of any instrument;
for Paer insisted that he should put the


compositions on paper directly from his
own head.
His father took him to all the principal
cities otItaly, and made a geat deal of
money by the exhibition of his talent.. He
appears to have been a Ve rimmsriWe
and severe man, and the CN r .in'bhia
he treated his nervous and iupwesmbloe on
had a gloomy effect on the artist's chara-
ter through life.
Paganini became celebrated throughout
the civilized world. Every where his play-
ing produced the greatest exciteoieat.-+-
Poets called his violin a nest of bids and
sunbeams,' because the tones were so won-
derfully bright and melodious. When he
broke three strings, and played entire piees
on one string only,. many of the ignoraat
multitude believed he dealt in witcheragi
and when he died, the Catholic church in
Italy refused to bury him in consecrated
ground, on the charge that he was a ma
gician, whom the devil assisted to perform
such extraordinary things. But te only
magic housed was great perseverance,afi
the spirit that aided him was a natal
genius for music.


OLB BULL was born in 1810, in Bergen,
Norway. He belonged to a very musical
family, and was observable in infancy for
extreme quickness of ear. He had an un-
cle who played well on the violoncello, and
had a curious collection of musical instru-
ments. Little Ole delighted to visit this
uncle, who was very fond of him, and lik-
ed to amuse himself with the child's sus-
ceptibility to sound. When he was three
years old, he often put him in the violon-
cello case, and hired him with sweetets
to stand still while he played. The candy
would keep him quiet for a few minutes;
but his little foot soon began to beat time,
and his eyes grew brighter and brighter.
At last, the music would set all his nerves
dancing so, that he could not possibly stay
in the violoncello case ; then his uncle
would laugh.
When the child went home, he would
take the yard measure, instead of a violon-
cello, and, with a small stick for a bow,
would imitate all the movements of the
tune he had heard. He could hear it in
his own mind all the time; but for fear
father and mother would not understand


his silent tune, as well he did, he would
stop to explain how beautifully the bass
came in, at some particular place.
When he was five years old, his uncle
gave him a small violin, brightly varnish-
ed, and as yellow as a lemon. This made
him almost crazy with joy. He buggedit,
and kissed it; it seemed to him so very
beautiful, that little yellow violin He
was a happy child, when he first drew a
tune out of it, with his own little fingers.
To the surprise of his family, he imme-
diatel played well on it; though, like lit-
tle 2mtrt, he had never received any in-
strueftn. But from the time he could run
alone,he had been present at frequent con-
certs, both at home and at his uncle's, and
he had observed how the musicians man-
aged their instruments. He had no diff-
culty in remembering tunes ; on the con-
trary, if one pleased him, he could never
get it out of his head. On his little yellow
violin, he played a quartet of Pleyel's, to
the lhoical club in the habit of meeting at
his father's house. They were perfectly
astonisuhd, and inquired who had taught
the boy. But nobody could tell, any bet-
ter than they could explain how the mock-
ing-bird learned to imitate the bob-o'-link.


When he was eight years old, a French-
man arrived in Bergen, with violins to sell.
One of them, of a very pretty form, and
bright red in its color, gained Ole's heart
at first sight, and he pleaded with his fa-
ther, till he coqpented to buy it. It was
purchased late in the afternoon, and put
away in its case. Ole slept in a small bed,
in the same apartment with his.parents,
and the coveted instrument was in an ad-
joining tpom.
I could not sleep," said he, for think-
ing of my new violin. When I heard fa-
ther and mother breathing deep, I isuout
of bed, lighted a candle, and, in my Afght-
clothes, did go on tiptoe, just to take one
little peep. I opened the case. The vio-
lin was so red as a cherry, and the pretty
little pearl screws did smile at me so I
must touch it. I pinched the strings, just
a little, with my fingers. Then it did
smile at me ever more and more. I took
up the bow and looked at it. It said to me
that it would be so pleasant to try it across
the strings -So I did try it a little ; just
a very little; and it did sing to. me so
sweetly Then I crept away farther off
from the bed-room. At first, I did play
very soft. I made very, very little noise.

*UsIthi cmHILttu 9l4

lt ppresii'tly I did begin, ca@tliccdo,hiet
I liked very. nituh ; ard if did gb'everl
lIdider and louder : and I forgot that it-
was midnight, and that every body' Waa-
sleep. 'The capriccio ^did go ever 'wildet
and wilder, and I did think f nodbiin, All
I hear a step behind me. It was my fath-
er. What do you mean by i aking such
a noise, and waking up the whole home
at this time of night 7' said he. In my
fright, I did drop my little red violin on th
floor, and it was broken. They sent it to
a doctor the next day, but it did never re
covt.its health."
Ofe was a very strong and active child.
He learned every thing fast, and did every
thing with all his might. He would leap
fences like a deer, turn somersets like a
harlequin, and cimb trees like -a quittel
Because he was always darting and driv-
ing about, his family called him 'The BaLt
At school, he seemed quite stupid, if the,
master insisted upon his stating sums on
the srate, and working them out by the old
method; but if left to pursue his own
course, he would do the sum in his mind,
and give the correct answer in far les
time than it would take to state it. He
was never taught to read music. He knew


the sound each note ought to have, long
before he could call it by name; and while
he was still a very young child, he learned
to read music, in all its complicated vari-
ations, merely by observing the musicians.
When he was ten years old, a foreign
music-master persuaded his father that it
was absolutely necessary that he should be
taught music by rule. Accordingly, he be-
gan to take lessons. He was told that he
must handle his bow differently, must hold
his violin quite otherwise, must practise
music by note, and not by his ear, and
when he was playing an air, he mast
break himself of the habit of compouing
variations of his own. The boy, wishing
to please his father, tried to do the best he
could; but the movements of his soul were
too rapid, and he had been too long accus-
tomed to a quicker process. He could not
learn any thing in the way his master pro-
posed. The more he tried, the more he
was annoyed and distressed. At last, it
made him so nervous, that in the midst of
his lesson he screamed aloud. His father,
aware that he was by nature unlike other
children, became convinced.that it was not
wise to subject him to such painful drill-
ing, when he could learn so much faster in


his own way. Indeed, there seemed to be
no need of troubling him thus; for even at
that early age, he could play a capriccio
of Paganini's, which older and skilful, mu-
sicians considered too difficult for them.
His aversion to lessons from his music-
master did not arise from indolence; for
he was earnest and diligent in learning
whatever he undertook. It was merely
that he had a process of his own, which
answered better for his keen quick nature,
than the common and slower method.
In manhood, Ole Bull became very cel-
ebratd. 1Yo violinist, except the famous
Paganini, ever drew such crowds to hear
him. He could play a distinct part on
each of the strings at once, so that it soun-
ded like four violins. This is an extreme-
ly difficult task, and no other performer
ever had sufficient strength and pliability
of muscle to execute it. His compositions
are full of tenderness and poetic feeling.
Kings have presented him with diamonds,
and poets have sung his praises in a variety
of languages. He visited the United States
in 1843,,and almost every American child
has heard of his sweet music.


FaNZ LISZT was born in 1811, in Reid-
ing, a village of Hungary. His father,
who was a musician of high reputation, in
the service of Prince Esterhazy, soon per-
ceived that the boy inherited more than
his own talent. At a very early age, he
would repeat on the piano the tunes he
had heard played, and he did it with so
much spirit and expression, that his father
could not help embracing him. Ah, my
son," he would say, I see that you will
be all that I have imagined and wished to
be in music, but have never been ale to
realize. My life will be renewed in you,
and bear its fruit."
At nine years old, Franz made his first
appearance in public, in the neighboring
city of Oedenberg. He performed a diffi-
cult concerto, and concluded with a fanta-
sia, which he composed as he went along.
The-audience were surprised at his skilful
playing, and still more by the genius indi-
cated in his extemporaneous composition.
His father wept team of joy, friends em-
braced him, and Ptnce Esterhazy put fifty
ducats into his little hand, in gratitude for
the pleasure he had received. He gave
concerts in other cities with similar success.


At his first performance in Vienna, the
celebrated Beethoven was present, and
gave his warmest words of praise and en-
couragement. Wealthy men interested
themselves to increase his father's salary,
that the remarkable boy might have the
best possible means of obtaining a thorough
musical education. All this applause did
not make him vain or idle. It only stimu-
lated him to greater exertions, lest his
friends should be disappointed in their ex-
pectations. He studied with the most un-
remitting industry, and of course made
rapid. process.
Before he was fourteen years old, he
composed an opera, called The Palace of
Love. It was performed at the royal acad-
emy of music, in Paris, with great ap-
As hf'passed into manhood, his musical
progress, through the various cities of Eu-
rope, was a succession of triulihs, though
not unattended by the envious enmity,
which always follows great success. His
health being enfeeblid by constant .exer-
tion, htewent toItlyithe benefiM of the,
pure and balmy air. He wais playing to
crowded houses, when he heard of a great
inundation of the Danube, in Hungary, by


which thousands had lost their property ;
and he resolved at once to return to his
native land. He was received with un-
bounded joy. Hungary was proud of her
distinguished artist. Mothers pointed him
out to their children as he passed, and told
how famous the 'little Franz' had made
himself, and how he could play a whole
book full of beautiful stories on the piano.'
He played to overflowing houses, and
gave the proceeds to cities that had suffer-
ed by the inundation. This raised the en-
thusiasm of his countrymen to the highest
pitch. He was complimented with seren-
ades, and whenever he appeared in the
street, or in public places, he was greeted
with huzzas, and garlands were showered
upon him. It must do a man's heart good
thus to benefit his native land, aat the
same time give delight to thousand Wy his

Very few, since the Creation of the world,
have had such remarkable musical endow-
ments as those I have mentioned. Men
are as various in their gifts as are the flow-
ers of the field. One cap write a beauti-


ful book, but cannof'compose an opera;
another can invent a valuable machine,
but cannot write a book. Some can only
build well the edifices that others have
planned; and some can only perform skil-
fully the music that others have composed.
But every human soul would be beautiful,
if each would delight in the talent of oth-
ers, and earnestly improve its own, whe-
ther great or small.


HEN I am awake, my
soil looks out, through
my senses, on this visi-
ble world of green grass
' and lue sky, ass little
chiF looks out through
an open window. But
there ik another inner
world, invisible to the senses; and when
eyes and ears are closed in sleep, my soul
visits this inner.world, and there sees and
hears mqutlnitiful things. Sometimes
I remembMthe things I see; and when I
remember them, they ae called dreams.
Once, in my sleep, I seemed to be in a
most beautiful place. There were little
rills of the clearest water, like fluid crys-
tal in silver channels. There was a mild
golden transparency in the light, and the
soft shadows of the foliage played grace-


fully with it, as they danced about over
the verdant lawn. Among this play of
shadows and golden sunshine, were groups
. of little children, with happy eyes and
shining hair.
I wanted to ask them what place this
was, where all things seemed so very beau-
tiful; but as I moved toward them, they
all began to jump and sing, and their joy-
ful voices sounded like a chorus of silver
bells. I said to thim, Why are you so
glad, little ones 1" They answered A
good little child is dying ; and'W rsjo
because the angA will bring .~udbos
with us." ,
Hpw will she get here ?" I Ma s
little one, whodRas caressing a dove on her
arm, looked up in my face and smiled, as
she pointed to an arch in the distance, cov-
ered with evergreen vines. "The good
child will come through that weh," she re-
plied. Those who live on tii earth call
it Death; but we call it The Entrance in-
to Life."
"Is she afraid to come 1" said I
"She was afraid," they answered; "for
a little while ago, she could not see how
bright and pleasant it is on this side of the
arch. But now she sees us, and hears our


happy voices, and she wishes to come to
us. Her mother stands weeping by her
bedside, and she wonders what makes her
babe smile so sweetly ; for the mother does
not see us, or hear the angels singing ; but
the child does."
When I turned to watch for the little one
coming from the outer world, she had al-
ready passed through the evergreen arch,
and came bounding toward her bright com-
panions. They ran to meet her, offering
doves and flowers; and I heard a sound
as of golden harps from above, and in har-
m Ly.with the harps #ere many .weet
singing, The mortal child has be-
S angel."

University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs