Months passed, and still Captain Porter had not been able to find the American squadron, so he decided to make a trip around Cape Horn, and cruise about on the Pacific, which decision pleased young Farragut, as he was eager for an experience of real sea life. And he certainly had it. The weather was bitterly cold, and for twenty-one days the ship was lashed by terrific gales, by the end of which time the provisions were almost gone, and each man had only a small daily allowance of bread and water, which was not a light experience, with appetites whetted by salt air and hard work. After rounding the cape, Captain Porter sailed north along the west coast of South America and stopped at an island near the coast of Chili, and here all the sailors went ashore with their guns, and killed some wild hogs and horses, and even the horse-flesh they ate with keen relish, after being so long without fresh meat. Then for months they cruised about in the Pacific, and as he had done in the Atlantic cruise, so in the Pacific, Captain Porter captured several English vessels and also warned some American whaling ships of danger. These had been at sea for so long that they had not even heard of the war. Every now and again the Essex stopped at an island where the sailors could kill seals, or when they anchored in a bay, they fished for cod, and at one island where they stayed for quite a while, they found prickly pears to eat, and killed pigeons which the cook on the Essex made into pies, and turtles which they caught were made into soup, and the salt air and the free vigorous life gave them all ravenous appetites, and young Farragut felt the keenest joy of living which he had ever experienced.

On that island where they stayed so long they found a curious post-office—a link connecting whoever should discover it with the outer world of passing men and vessels. It was just a box nailed to a tree, where messages or letters could be left to be picked up by other vessels which happened to be going in the right direction to carry them.

A far cry indeed from that island post-box to the wireless stations of to-day, flashing news from sea to land—from land to sea!

At last in May, 1813, the Essex sailed away from the island, and soon more English vessels were sighted and captured. One of these prizes Captain Porter wished to have taken to Valparaiso, and as through all the long cruise he had kept a watchful eye on young Farragut, he now determined to put the boy's ability to a hard test.



Farragut was then only twelve years old, just think of it,—twelve years old, but the Captain put him in charge of the captured vessel, while its grey-haired old captain was required to navigate it to Valparaiso under Farragut's command.

The charge of such a vessel on such a trip was no light matter for a boy to undertake, and Farragut's joy and pride fairly oozed from every inch of his alert figure, beamed from every feature of his face. The old captain of the ship, in none too good a humour at having been captured by the Americans, was still more angry at being obliged to take orders from a mere child, and tried to ignore him, but as Farragut paid no heed to his snubs, he tried a different method. When Farragut gave orders that "the maintop-sail be filled away," the captain answered that he would shoot any man who dared to touch a rope without his orders, and then went below to get his pistols. There wasn't a moment to lose. Instantly Farragut called one of his men, and told him what had happened and what he wanted done, and his frank manner and words accomplished what no amount of commands would have done.

"Aye, aye, sir!" answered the faithful seaman, and at once prepared to obey the order, while Farragut sent down word to the rebellious captain not to come on deck with a pistol if he did not wish to go overboard.

There was no question from that moment as to who was master of the vessel, while the boy was greatly admired for his bravery which had been equal to such an emergency, and the vessel was brought safely into port by the young commander, who then went back to the Essex, proud in the fact of having accomplished the task assigned him.

On his return, Captain Porter had decided to go at once to some islands far out in the Pacific, where he could refit the Essex, and so they sailed in that direction, and when near the islands they were sighted by some of the natives who paddled out in a canoe to meet them, and eagerly invited the sailors ashore, promising them fruit and other provisions. The natives were indeed a strange sight to the eyes of the American boys, for their bodies were heavily tattooed, and gaily ornamented with feathers in true barbaric fashion, but they were very friendly and during the six weeks while the ship was being refitted, although the American sailors were given lessons daily by the chaplain of the Essex, when the lesson was over, they were allowed to mingle freely with the islanders, and Farragut learned many new things from them, things which were afterwards invaluable to him. To the islanders, swimming was as natural and as easy as walking, and although David never became as proficient in this as his new friends, still he learned to swim easily and fast, and too, they taught him how to walk on stilts, and how to use a spear with skill and ease, and in such sports and occupations, time passed quickly and the Americans were most regretful when the day came for them to say farewell to their island friends. But the Essex was ready to sail for Valparaiso, so off they went and when they sailed away, young Farragut was almost as much developed in muscle, and as bronzed by the sun and wind, as were the friends he left behind him on that island to which he always looked back as an enchanted land.

Two months later when the Essex was lying quietly at anchor in the harbour of Valparaiso, and many of her crew happened to be on shore, two English war vessels bore swiftly down upon the Essex in a very menacing way, and Captain Porter was afraid they would attack him, which they had no right to do, for Chili was not at war with either England or America, and so an American vessel should have been safe within that port.

One of these English vessels was a frigate called The Phoebe and the other a sloop named The Cherub. The Phoebe passed within fifteen feet of the Essex, when Captain Porter, who was standing on deck, hailed her, saying:

"If you touch a single yardarm I shall board you instantly!"

The Phoebe passed by without a reply and then both English vessels anchored at the entrance of the harbour, by doing which they kept the Essex a prisoner. In this position the vessels remained for several weeks, when there was a tremendous gale, in which the cables of the Essex gave way, and she at once began to drift towards the English ships. Captain Porter decided that this was his chance to escape, and setting all sail he made for the open sea.

Suddenly something snapped. Down crashed the main topmast, carrying sails, rigging and even some of the crew into the water. In such a crippled condition escape was impossible, and the Essex was driven back again to shore, where she was brought to anchor within pistol shot of the beach.

The Essex had only four guns that could shoot as far as the cannon of the English. The Phoebe and the Cherub took a position out of range of almost all of the guns of the Essex, and then poured broadside after broadside into the unfortunate American.

For two hours and a half the battle raged, the Phoebe throwing seven hundred eighteen-pound shots at the Essex. Captain Porter and his crew fought bravely until one hundred and twenty-four of their men had been killed or wounded, and during all this terrible battle, the first which David Farragut had ever seen, there was no braver officer on the ship than the little midshipman, who hurried here and there, carrying messages for the captain, bringing powder for the guns, and helping wherever he was needed. Years later in discussing this scene, Farragut said:

"I shall never forget the horrid impression made upon me at the sight of the first man I had ever seen killed. It staggered me at first, but they soon began to fall so fast that it all appeared like a dream, and produced no effect on my nerves.... Some gun-primers were wanted and I was sent after them. In going below, while I was on the ward-room ladder, the Captain of the gun directly opposite the hatchway was struck full in the face by an eighteen pound shot, and fell back on me. We tumbled down the hatch together. I lay for some moments stunned by the blow, but soon recovered consciousness enough to rush up on deck. The Captain seeing me covered with blood, asked if I were wounded, to which I replied, 'I believe not, sir.'

"'Then,' said he, 'where are the primers?' This brought me to my senses and I ran below again and brought up the primers."

When Captain Porter had been forced lo surrender, the wounded men were carried to shore, and young Farragut volunteered his services to help the surgeons, and worked tirelessly, rolling bandages and waiting on the injured men, whose admiration he won by his devoted service; and so pleased was Captain Porter with his bravery throughout the whole battle, that he mentioned it in his official despatches to the government. Farragut himself in speaking of the battle later said:

"I never earned Uncle Sam's money so faithfully."

All of the American prisoners of war were put on board an unarmed vessel, and made to promise that they would not take up arms against the English until they had been exchanged for an equal number of English prisoners, after giving which promise the Essex was allowed to sail for the United States. When Farragut, the plucky little midshipman was taken on board the prison-ship, tears of mortification rolled down his cheeks.

"Never mind, my little fellow," said the Captain, "perhaps it will be your turn next."

"I hope so," was David's answer and his tears turned into a smile as he saw "Murphy" his pet pig being brought on board, and at once rushed to claim him, but the English sailors refused to allow that it was his, saying:

"You are a prisoner and your pig too."

"We always respect private property," answered David, seizing hold of the sailors, and of Murphy, with unyielding determination, and after a vigorous tussle he won his beloved pig.

Now prisoners of war, the Captain and crew of the Essex arrived in the harbour of New York on July 7th, 1814, and young Farragut, while waiting to be exchanged, went to Captain Porter's home at Chester, Pa., and while there was under the tuition of a Mr. Neif, a quaint instructor who had been one of Napoleon's celebrated Guards. He gave the boys in his care no lessons from books, but taught them about plants and animals and how to climb, taking long walks with them and giving them military drills as well, all of which Farragut enjoyed.

In the following November, the English and Americans, having made an exchange of prisoners, Farragut was free to return to the navy, but as a treaty of peace was made only a few weeks later between the Americans and English, he did not have to serve against the latter again, and during the next two years he made only one short uneventful cruise, being quartered the rest of the time on a receiving ship, or a vessel stationed at the navy yards, where recruits are received into the service.

But in the Spring of 1816, he went on a cruise which proved most interesting, on the Washington, a beautiful new ship carrying seventy-four guns, which was to take the American minister to Naples. Before leaving for the cruise, the President of the United States, James Madison, visited the Washington, and among his suite was Captain Porter, then a naval commissioner, who had come to say good-bye to the boy whom he loved devotedly.

Farragut was sad to say good-bye, but full too of the desire for change and adventure, and the new trip was a great experience for him.

The Washington cruised all summer in the Mediterranean, stopping at many places, which gave Farragut an opportunity to study geography in the finest way possible. The great volcano Vesuvius was in eruption when he visited it, which was an experience he never forgot, and another of a very different kind was when the King of Naples and the Emperor of Austria visited the Washington and were entertained with great display and elegance. After stopping at the coast towns of Tunis, Tripoli and Algiers, the Washington finally put up for the winter in a Spanish harbour, and then, as during the entire cruise, the boys were taught by the ship's chaplain, Mr. Folsom, who was so devoted to David that when in the fall of 1817 he was appointed consul to Tunis, he wrote to the Captain of the Washington asking permission to take the boy with him, because, he said to the commodore "he is entirely destitute of the aids of fortune and the influence of friends, other than those whom his character may attach to him," and the request was granted.

Farragut spent nine delightful and valuable months with his old friend, who gave the boy every opportunity, not only for study, but to gain such polish and worldly experience as he would need in later life and David eagerly profited by every advantage given him. Then the Danish consul, who was also an admirer of the bright sturdy boy, invited him to visit him. Farragut was now sixteen years old, and it was at that time that the first real hardship of his life came to him, when as the result of a sunstroke, his eyes were weakened, and never entirely recovered.

Soon it was time for him to go on duty on the Washington again, and Mr. Folsom, tearful with regret at being obliged to part from the boy, took him in his arms and gave him his blessing and their paths in life parted, although forty years later, when Farragut had become a famous Admiral he sent a token of respect and love to Mr. Folsom, showing that he had never forgotten his old friend.

When Farragut was eighteen years old, he was called to America to take his examination for a lieutenancy, which he took and passed successfully, but as there was no vacancy just then in the navy, he was obliged to wait, and although he spent the time happily with the Porters in their Virginia home, he was glad indeed when the chance came to cruise again, for he was a thorough sailor, and the love of the sea ran hot in his veins.

For years both the American and English had been waging war against bands of pirates who infested the coast of the West Indies. These robbers had small fast ships, and would attack unarmed merchantmen, seize all the valuables they could carry away or destroy, and sometimes kill the crew or put them ashore on some desert island. Ever since peace with England had been declared, Captain Porter had been a commissioner of the navy, and made no sea voyages, but now he offered to resign this position and attempt to drive the pirates away, only demanding that the government should give him a fleet of small vessels which could follow the pirates into their retreats.

The government accepted his offer, and gave him orders to fit out such a fleet as he chose, and he bought eight small schooners, similar to those used by the pirates, and also five large row-boats or barges, which were called the "mosquito fleet" and Farragut was assigned to one of the vessels named the Greyhound, and in command of it he had many exciting encounters with the pirates. At one time when off the Southern coast of Cuba, some of the Greyhound's crew who had gone ashore to hunt game, were fired on by the pirates, and returned this fire without effect, then went back to their ship. Farragut was ordered to take a party of men to capture the pirates, and at three o'clock the next morning, they set out in the barges, and after landing on the island, had no easy time to find the pirate camp, as they had to cut their way through thickets of trailing vines, thorny bushes and cactus plants and in such intense heat that some of the men fainted from exhaustion. They found the camp, but their prey had fled! Evidently the approaching vessels had been seen, and the pirates were gone. The sailors at once searched their camp, which was protected by several cannon, and there they found some houses a hundred feet long, and also an immense cave filled with all kinds of goods taken from plundered vessels.

The sailors burned the houses, and carried off the plunder and the cannon to their boats, while David carried away a monkey as his prize. Just as the men were returning to their boats, they heard a great noise behind them, and thought surely that the pirates had come back to attack them, and Farragut stood still and made a speech to the sailors, urging them to fight bravely and to stand their ground like men. Imagine their surprise and amusement when they found their foes were not pirates, but thousands of land-crabs scurrying through the briars!

This was only one of the incidents that young Farragut had while on his first cruise as acting lieutenant. During the entire cruise to the West Indies, the American sailors suffered much from yellow fever and from exposure, and in alluding to the voyage in after days, Farragut said:

"I never owned a bed during my cruise in the West Indies, but laid me down to rest wherever I found the most comfortable berth."

The pirates were finally driven from the seas, their boats burned or captured, and their camps entirely destroyed, and Farragut's first and most exciting cruise as a youthful commander came to an end. The honours which were his at a later day were such as come to the man of years of training and experience, but from the day when the little midshipman stood on the deck of the Essex beside Captain Porter as she sailed down the Delaware river, to the time when he stood in the proud glory of his title, the first admiral of America, his is the story of a man who won his fame by a never varying attention to detail, a never ending effort for self-improvement, and a never relaxed adherence to duty.

All honour to Midshipman Farragut—the Admiral-to-be!



MOZART:

The Boy Musician

Johannes Chrysostemus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart—what a burden to be put upon a baby's tiny shoulders!

If there is any truth underlying the belief that a name can in some measure foreshadow a child's future, then surely Wolfgang Mozart, who was born in Salzburg in 1756, came honestly by his heritage of greatness, for when he was only a day old he received the five-part name, to which was later added his confirmation name of Sigismundus. But as soon as he could choose for himself, the little son of Marianne and Leopold Mozart from his store of names, selected Wolfgang, to which he added Amadeus, by which combination he was always known, and the name is for ever linked with the memory of a great genius.

Almost before he could talk plainly the little fellow showed himself to be a musical prodigy, and when he was scarcely three years old he would steal into the room where his father was giving a lesson on the harpsichord to Anna (or "Nannerl," as she was called), the sister five years older than himself, and while she was being taught, Wolfgang would listen and watch with breathless attention.

One day when the lesson was over, he begged his father to teach him too, but Leopold Mozart only laughed as he answered, glancing down into the child's serious face looking so intently into his:

"Wait, my little man, thou art but a baby yet. Wait awhile, my Wolferl!" and the disappointed little musician crept away, but as soon as Nannerl and his father had left the room, the tiny fellow crept back again, went to the harpsichord and standing on tiptoe, touched the keys with his chubby fingers stretched wide apart until he reached and played a perfect chord! Leopold Mozart was in another part of the house, but his sensitive ear caught the sound, and he rushed back to find his baby on tiptoe before the harpsichord, giving the first hint of his marvellous ability.

At once the proud and excited father began to give him lessons, and always, too, from that day, whenever Nannerl had her lesson, Wolfgang perched on his father's knee, and listened with rapt absorption, and often when the lesson was over, he would repeat what she had played in exact imitation of her manner of playing.

Leopold Mozart, who was himself a talented musician, saw with pride almost beyond expression, that both of his children inherited his musical ability, and soon felt that Wolfgang was a genius. When the boy was only four, his father, to test his powers, tried to teach him some minuets which to his perfect astonishment, Wolfgang played after him in a most extraordinary manner, not merely striking the notes correctly, but marking the rhythm with accurate expression, and to learn and play each minuet the little fellow required only half an hour.

When he was five years old, one day his father entered the sitting-room of their home and found Wolfgang bending over a table, writing so busily that he did not hear his father enter, or see that he was standing beside him. Wolfgang's chubby little hand held the pen awkwardly, but held it with firm determination while it travelled back and forth across a large sheet of paper on which he was scribbling a strange collection of hieroglyphics, with here and there a huge blot, testifying to his haste and inexperience in the use of ink.

What was he trying to do? His father's curiosity finally overcame him and he asked:

"What are you doing, Wolfgang?" The curly head was raised with an impatient gesture.

"I am composing a concerto for the harpsichord. I have nearly finished the first part."

"Let me see it."

"No, please, I have not yet finished."

But even as he spoke, the eager father had taken up the paper and carried it over to where a friend stood, and they looked it over together, exchanging amused glances at the queer characters on it. Presently Leopold Mozart, after looking carefully at it, said:

"Why it really seems to be composed by rule! But it is so difficult that no one could ever play it."

"Oh, yes, they could, but it must be studied first," exclaimed little Wolfgang eagerly, and running to the harpsichord, he added:

"See, this is the way it begins," and he was able to play enough of it, to show what his idea in writing it had been, and his father and the friend who had before exchanged glances of amusement, now looked at each other with wonder not untouched with awe.

In the Mozart collection at Salzburg, there is still preserved a music book in which those early pieces written by little Wolfgang were written down by his father, and also the minuets he learned, and in the book his father wrote after them:

"The preceding minuets were learnt by Wolfgang in his fourth year," and further on we find the record:

"This minuet and trio Wolfgang learned in half an hour on the 26th day of January, 1761, the day before his fifth birthday, at half-past nine at night."

In his first composition the sense of perfect form is felt to a remarkable degree, and the little book in which it was written down, not only accompanied the family on their travels, but in it Wolfgang also wrote down his first sonatas, published in 1763.

When he was not much over five years old, Wolfgang was chosen to take the part of chorister in a Latin comedy which was given at the close of the school year of the Salzburg Gymnasium, and among the one hundred and fifty young people who took part in the entertainment one can picture the charming little musical fellow as the great feature of the occasion, and many stories were told at that time of his marvellous sense of sound, and the ease with which he overcame every technical difficulty. Meanwhile he learned to play on the violin, and could tell, it is said, when one violin was an eighth of a tone lower than another. Even games, to be interesting to him, had to be accompanied by music, and a family friend in writing of him says: "If he and I carried playthings from one room to another, the one who went empty-handed must sing, and play a march on the violin as he walked."

On an evening when a number of violinists were gathered in the Mozart home to play together, Wolfgang, who had recently been learning to play the violin, begged to play with them. His father refused to let him, and told him to run away, but the second violinist called him back, saying:

"Never mind, little man; wipe away those tears and stand by me." So close beside him stood the little chap, and presently all were surprised to hear a clear, clean-cut tone coming from the child's violin. His touch was so exquisite, his interpretation so masterly, that presently the second violinist laid down his instrument and listened breathlessly, while Wolfgang played on and on, forgetful of everything but the magic spell of the music, and as his father listened, his heart throbbed with pride and joy, and tears rolled down his face, as he exclaimed:

"Little music-king thou art, my Wolferl, and thou shalt reign over us all!"

From that moment it was plain that Wolfgang Mozart was a musical prodigy, and as little Nannerl, too, had great talent, the proud father now determined to show them to a world which was ever eager to applaud such genius, and in 1762 he made his first experiment of taking the children on a concert tour. This was so successful that before Wolfgang was eight years old and Nannerl twelve, they had appeared at the Courts of Vienna, Paris, Munich and London, and everywhere Wolfgang made friends with rich and poor alike, his personality was so full of charm and simple dignity.

Once, during their travels, being detained by a heavy shower at Ypps, they took refuge in a monastery. The monks were at supper and did not know of the arrival of any stranger, until suddenly from the chapel came wonderful music, music grave and gay, sad, sweet, thrilling, and marvellous in its appeal to hearts and souls. The Fathers were frightened, not knowing who could have entered their sanctuary, thinking it must be a spirit, when at last a light was brought, and creeping into the chapel, they discovered little Wolfgang at the organ, not a vision, but just a mortal boy. The Fathers were overcome with amazement and lavished all possible courtesies on the wonderful little musician and his family while they remained.

On entering Vienna, at the Custom House, Wolfgang, after a brief chat with the official there, took out his violin, and played to the official, who was so delighted with the boy and his music, that the family had no trouble with examination of their luggage, as they would otherwise have had.

The Imperial family of Vienna were all very fond of music, and had also had their curiosity greatly excited in regard to this child prodigy, so it was not strange that only a few days after the Mozarts arrived, Leopold should have received a command to bring his children to play at Schoenbrum, an imperial palace near Vienna, and this without any effort on Mozart's part to get the invitation.

The Emperor was delighted with the little "sorcerer" as he called Wolfgang, and besides listening to his real playing with deepest interest, he made him play with one finger, in which the little fellow was perfectly successful. Then he asked him to play with the keys covered by a piece of cloth, which he did instantly, and these musical tricks suggested by the Emperor's fancy, thereafter formed a far from unimportant part of Wolfgang's repertoire on his long concert tours, and always interested his audiences. The boy had a keen sense of humour, and always entered heartily into any joke that was made with him, but sometimes he could be very serious, as for instance, when he was called to play for the court composer, George Wagenseil, who was himself a proficient performer on the harpsichord. The Emperor stepped back when Wagenseil came forward, and Mozart said very seriously to him:

"I play a concerto by you, you must turn over the pages for me," and turn the pages the great man did.

The Emperor ordered one hundred ducats to be paid to Wolfgang's father for the performance, and the Empress, both then and later, was kindness itself to both the children, and sent them expensive and beautiful clothes. In writing to a friend at that time, Leopold Mozart said:

"Would you like to know what Wolferl's dress is like? It is the finest cloth, lilac-coloured, the best of moire of the same colour. Coat and top-coat with a double broad border of gold."

In the portrait which is in the Mozart collection in Salzburg, Mozart is painted in this dress, and he wore it with as much ease as if he had always been used to such finery. Also he never showed any embarrassment or self-consciousness when in the presence of royalty, and once jumped on the lap of the Empress, Maria Theresa, put his arms around her neck and kissed her as effusively as if she had been his mother, while he treated the princesses as if they were his sisters. Marie Antoinette was one of his great favourites after she helped him up from a severe fall on a highly polished floor. To her great amusement he thanked her by saying:

"You are good. I will marry you," and when the Crown Prince Joseph, who afterwards became Emperor, played the violin before the little prodigy, he exclaimed: "Fie!" at something he did not like, then, "that was false!" at another bar, and finally applauded, with cries of "Bravo!"

Little Nannerl who played only less well than her remarkable brother, was a charmingly pretty, piquant little girl, whose manner, both in society and in the concert hall, was winning and demure, while Wolfgang's grace and elegance of manner were striking. Wherever the children went, people went mad over them. They were the fashion, the furore, no musical entertainment was a success without them, and they were so petted that they might easily have been spoiled, had it not been for their father's wise and watchful care. But with true German caution, the father guarded them from bad effects of over-excitement or indulgence. All sorts of presents were constantly given them, among which were many jewels and beautiful articles of clothing, but the clothes were only used on concert nights or special occasions, the jewellery was kept locked up in a box, and the children were only allowed to see or handle it when they had been especially good.

When Paris was the headquarters of the travellers, all possible honour was given them, and the concerts in the French capital brought the Mozarts a substantial sum and they were received very kindly in a visit to the Court of Versailles; of which visit little Nannerl said later, that her only recollection was of the Marquise de Pompadour standing Wolfgang on a table, that he wanted to kiss her, and when she drew back, he said indignantly:

"Who is she that she will not let me kiss her? The Empress kissed me."

The King's daughters were very kind to the children, and on New Year's Day, 1764, the Mozart family dined with the royal family. Wolfgang sat next to the Queen, who talked to him in German, translating the conversation to Louis Fifteenth, while near Wolfgang sat his father and his mother, and Nannerl sat on the opposite side of the table by the Dauphin.

After playing at Versailles the little musicians became the fashion in Paris, and every circle was open to them, while Wolfgang's reputation as a musical genius was steadily growing, and he had already composed two sonatas which were really good pieces of work from an artistic point of view.

Leaving Paris at last, the Mozarts arrived in London, and after taking lodgings, they hastened to adopt English customs.

"How do you suppose," wrote Leopold Mozart, to a friend, "my wife and girl look in English hats, and the great Wolfgang in English clothes?"

Almost immediately they were requested to play at Buckingham House, before the King and Queen, where they met with exceptional kindness and appreciation, and the London visit was an unqualified success, one brilliant performance following another in quick succession, until it seemed as if the quaint, charming little music-king who made such an imposing appearance on the stage, must be really as old and grown-up as he seemed when playing in public.

But while they were in England, in lodgings in Chelsea, which was then open country, Leopold Mozart was very ill for a time, so the children could not practise, and for awhile were obliged to run wild, and it would have been hard to imagine that the bright little German girl and the pretty boy, busy making houses and grottos and arbours out of stones and earth and leaves, at the rear of their lodgings, were the infant prodigies of the concert stage. But even then, while he could not use the harpsichord, little Wolfgang was composing, and when tired of out-of-door sports would sit down, with his sister beside him and work on a symphony for the orchestra, and it was thus that his earliest symphonies were composed, which were all marked by real artistic form and feeling. The chief advantage of these compositions, however, was that Wolfgang kept in practise, and was able to announce that at his next concerts all the instrumental numbers would be his own compositions, which, of course, made a great impression on his audiences.

Again they were invited to Court, but this time Leopold Mozart felt obliged to have six sonatas of Wolfgang's for harpsichord and violin, printed and dedicated to the Queen, so the visit was not the financial benefit to the Mozarts that the first one had been, and from that time the concert tour brought in less great returns than those of the previous months, for both Nannerl and Wolfgang were seriously sick. But they recovered and journeyed on to Holland, where Wolfgang was called to play before the Prince of Orange, and commanded to write six sonatas for the princess, also to write a variation for the harpsichord on the melody which is sung, played and whistled by everybody in Holland and is the real Dutch national hymn.

The little composer was also called upon for various other pieces of musical work and in no way disappointed his critics or his audiences. Again the trio journeyed on, stopping wherever the father felt that his son's fame might be increased by a concert.

To Paris they went again, then through France to Switzerland, and finally journeyed homeward, reaching Salzburg in November of 1766, and it was a matter of great interest to their friends to find the children who had left home three years ago, still happy, hearty boy and girl, despite all their new worldly experience.

Old and young came to bid them welcome, to hear the story of their adventures, and to see the numerous and costly presents, about which they had heard so much. They found pretty Nannerl prettier than ever, and Wolfgang, notwithstanding the severe illness he had recently had, looked normally well and happy, and was as childish in his interests as if he had not become a public idol.

It is said that at that time, so glad was he to be at home again, that he rode merrily around the room on his father's stick, as he had done three years before, and played with his favourite cat just as he used to do, the cat having been well cared for in the absence of the family, by a friend.

During their tour Wolfgang had created for himself an imaginary kingdom, which he called Ruecken. This country was to be inhabited entirely by children, and he was to be the king. His idea of the place was so distinct that a friend had to draw him a map of the cities in it, to which he gave names, and his friends were completely fascinated to hear him talk of his droll conceits, when he was not holding them spell-bound by the magic of his music.

And now as soon as they were settled down again in their home, Leopold Mozart began to instruct Wolfgang seriously in counterpoint, that he might be thoroughly fitted for his life-work, and then as his precocious childhood begins to merge into young boyhood, we find him working indefatigably, working with fingers and with brain, every faculty alert, to conquer technique and achieve perfection in his art.

In the summer of 1767, when Mozart was eleven, they started on a new tour, for which the little prodigy composed four pianoforte concerti, which were interesting on account of certain harmonic effects produced in them, but that second tour, was not a fortunate one, for during it, both Nannerl and Wolfgang were stricken with small-pox, which took a very violent form, and poor Wolfgang lay blind for nine days, and convalescence was slow, and hard to bear. Again they visited Vienna, but there they found things greatly changed, for while in former days, music was always a feature of great social gatherings, now the only pleasure seemed to be in balls, and there was absolutely no interest shown in Mozart, the child prodigy. Also much jealousy was shown towards the Mozarts by other musicians, and when Wolfgang set to work on an opera, to be used with the text written for him by the Viennese dramatic poet of the day, and had already completed a score of six hundred and fourteen pages, it was said that Wolfgang had not written it at all, that it was his father's composition. To contradict these statements, in the presence of several prominent critics, Leopold opened a volume of Metastatio, at the first aria, which he placed in front of Wolfgang, and before that assemblage of critical older men, the boy seized a pen and wrote without hesitation, music to the aria for several instruments, and with such incredible swiftness that the company watching him were dumb with amazement at his ability.

But matters did not grow brighter—all sorts of unpleasant incidents occurred to embitter the tourists, and at the end of a year the family returned once again to Salzburg.

At that time Italy was the Mecca of the musician, and to study and win his first laurels there was the ideal of every musical student. The musical atmosphere of Salzburg was narrow and provincial, and Leopold Mozart wished Wolfgang to escape from it, so presently we find young Mozart and his father journeying Southward to Italy where Wolfgang is studying, meeting interesting people, playing in public, and writing amusing letters home to Nannerl, who was becoming more devoted to her home duties now, than to her music, but even so it was always into her ears that Wolfgang poured his musical feelings, sure that he would be understood.

When he was in Rome, he saw in the Sistine chapel the painting of "The Last Judgment," while listening to the wonderful music of "The Miserere," which music is only performed in Holy Week by the Pope's choir, and no one has ever been allowed to have a copy of the music or even to see it. But so accurate was little Mozart's memory, that after leaving the chapel, he not only wrote out the music correctly, but could also sing it perfectly, a feat which made him the musical marvel of his age!

For two years he worked and studied, and accomplished great things musically, then the Elector of Bavaria invited him to write a comic opera for the Carnival, which invitation the boy joyfully accepted, and at once set to work on the none too easy task. He was now at home again, and his father and Nannerl listened eagerly to his themes, as bit by bit he elaborated them.

In due time the opera was finished; it was called "La Finta Giardiniera," and Wolfgang, accompanied by his father and pretty sister, set off for Munich, where the performance was to be given, where court life was very gay just then, and where Nannerl and Wolfgang were sure to have much to amuse and interest them.

Nannerl was taken to board by a widow who lived in the old market-place, while Leopold and the young composer were obliged to take rooms nearer the Court. At once rehearsals of the opera began, and the days were marked by a succession of exciting events for Wolfgang and for Nannerl, into whose apartment Wolfgang ran half a dozen times a day to report progress.

Up and down the street, humming bits of the opera or intent on some new scenic effect, dashed the young composer a dozen times a day, and he and Nannerl were perfectly sure that no performance ever was or ever could be so marvellous, as this one was to be.

At last the great night came. Nannerl was dressed in her dainty white gown hours before the time, but Wolfgang, who was detained at the opera house until the last moment, had just time to jump into his fine new costume of satin and lace, with the flash of brilliants in his ruff and on his slippers; without a glance in the mirror, but he looked like a proud young prince when he joined his father and sister, although the hand that he slipped through Nannerl's arm was trembling. Who could say what the evening would hold of triumph or of failure? No wonder he trembled.

When they arrived at the opera house, it was crowded to the doors. All the court was there in gala dress, but the youthful music-master, scarcely nineteen years old then, sat with his father and Nannerl, unmindful that all eyes were focussed on him, forgetful of all but the performance of his opera.

The music began, and from the first note to the last, the opera was a triumphant success. Young Mozart then became the object of the wildest enthusiasm, and from that moment his popularity as a musician was established.

There let us leave him, as he stands before us in his stately costume, bowing acknowledgment of the applause raining upon him, with the blaze of light shining full upon his clean-cut dignified face, and when we hear his famous compositions played, let us think back to that night of his first great public triumph, when he was nineteen years old.

Pianist, violinist, composer, little music-king and great genius as well—the world owes a debt of gratitude to Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, which can only be paid in the coin of appreciation.

THE END