there, I used to hear a lady practicing near us. During the summer evenings, her windows were generally open, and I walked to and fro outside to listen to her."

She seemed so shy that Beethoven said no more, but seated himself quietly before the piano and began to play. He had no sooner struck the first chord than I knew what would follow-how grand he would be that night. And I was not mistaken. Never, during all the years I knew him, did I hear him play as he then played to that blind girl and her brother. He seemed to be inspired; and, from the instant when his fingers began to wander along the keys, the very tone of the instrument seemed to grow sweeter and more equal.

The brother and sister were silent with wonder and rapture. The former laid aside his work; the latter, with her head bent slightly forward, and her hands pressed tightly over her breast, crouched down near the end of the piano, as if fearful lest even the beating of her heart should break the flow of those magical, sweet sounds. It was as if we were all bound in a strange dream, and only feared to awake.

Suddenly the flame of the single candle wavered, sank, flickered, and went out. Beethoven paused, and I threw open the shutters, admitting a flood of brilliant moonlight. The room was almost as light as before, the moon's rays falling strongest upon the piano and player. But the chain of his ideas seemed to have been broken by the accident. His head dropped upon his breast; his hands rested upon his knees; he seemed absorbed in deep thought. He remained thus for some time. At length the

young shoemaker rose and approached him eagerly,

yet reverently.

"Wonderful man!" he said, in a low tone.

and what are you?"

"Who

"Listen!" said Beethoven, and he played the opening bars of the Sonata in F. A cry of delight and recognition burst from them both, and exclaiming, “Then you are Beethoven!" they covered his hands with tears and kisses.

He rose to go, but we held him back with entreaties. "Play to us once more-only once more!"

He suffered himself to be led back to the instrument. The moon shone brightly in through the window, and lighted up his glorious, rugged head and massive figure. “I will improvise a sonata to the moonlight!" said he, looking up thoughtfully to the sky and stars. Then his hands dropped on the keys, and he began playing a sad and infinitely lovely movement, which crept gently over the instrument, like the calm flow of moonlight over the dark earth.

This was followed by a wild, elfin passage in triple time-a sort of grotesque interlude, like the dance of sprites upon the lawn. Then came a swift agitato finale-a breathless, hurrying, trembling movement, descriptive of flight, and uncertainty, and vague impulsive terror, which carried us away on its rustling wings, and left us all in emotion and wonder.

"Farewell to you!" said Beethoven, pushing back his chair, and turning toward the door-"farewell to you!"

"You will come again?" asked they, in one breath. He paused and looked compassionately, almost tenderly, at the face of the blind girl.

"Yes, yes,” he said hurriedly, "I will come again, and give the young lady some lessons! Farewell! I will come again!”

Their looks followed us in silence more eloquent than words till we were out of sight.

"Let us make haste back," said Beethoven, "that I may write out that sonata while I can yet remember it."

We did so, and he sat over it until long past day dawn. And this was the origin of that Moonlight Sonata with which we are all so fondly acquainted.

Biography.-Ludwig vän Beethoven (bā'tō ven), one of the greatest composers, was born at Bonn in 1770, and died in

Vienna in 1827.

The works of Beethoven created a new epoch in the development of music, and the popularity of his compositions has not diminished with the lapse of years.

The picture of Beethoven that is given us by his biographers, is indeed a sad one. He was alone, deaf, and the object of unkind treatment on the part of those who should have been his friends. How nobly he rose above all petty annoyances, we can readily understand when we listen to the grand and solemn strains of his immortal music.

Notes and Questions. Where is Bonn ? Where is Cologne ? Sonata in F is the name of a musical composition written in the key of F.

Elocution.The repetition of I in the seventh paragraph denotes hesitation or stammering. The dashes in the same paragraph are used to mark abrupt changes of thought due to mental confusion.

Find another example in the lesson, of repetition of words in stammering.

Language. The first word of the lesson, It, has the following meaning:-The events which I am about to describe or speak of. The use of the word It may shorten the expression of a thought; but it is too indefinite in meaning to be employed frequently. The use of the word in the case already referred to, causes the instant inquiry-"What happened at Bonn ?”

Give two other examples in which It is employed, and substitute its meaning in each case.

He comes,-he comes,-the Frost Spirit comes!
You may trace his footsteps now

On the naked woods and the blasted fields
And the broad hill's withered brow.
He has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees
Where their pleasant green came forth;
And the winds, which follow wherever he goes,
Have shaken them down to earth.

He comes, he comes,-the Frost Spirit comes!
From the frozen Labrador,—

From the icy bridge of the Northern seas,
Which the white bear wanders o'er,—
Where the fisherman's sail is stiff with ice,
And the luckless forms below

In the sunless cold of the lingering night
Into marble statues grow!

He comes, he comes,-the Frost Spirit comes !—
On the rushing Northern blast,

And the dark Norwegian pines have bowed
As his fearful breath went past.

With an unscorched wing he has hurried on,
Where the fires of Hecla glow

On the darkly beautiful sky above
And the ancient ice below.

He comes, he comes,-the Frost Spirit comes!

And the quiet lake shall feel

The torpid touch of his glazing breath,

And ring to the skater's heel;

And the streams which danced on the broken rocks,

Or sang to the leaning grass,

Shall bow again to their winter's chain,

And in mournful silence pass.

He comes, he comes,-the Frost Spirit comes!

Let us meet him as we may,

And turn with the light of the parlor fire

His evil power away;

And gather closer the circle round,

When that firelight dances high,

And laugh at the shriek of the baffled Fiend
As his sounding wing goes by!

JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Biography.-John Greenleaf Whittier, the author and poet, was born at Haverhill, Massachusetts, in 1807. His parents were members of the Society of Friends. He died in 1892.

Whittier worked on a farm and at the trade of shoemaking

until eighteen years of age. After that he studied for two years

in the Haverhill Academy.

In 1829, he became the editor of a paper in Boston; and since that time was engaged in various kinds of literary work.

His poems are of a vigorous and picturesque order; and the adaptation of form to thought, as well as the lofty purity and simplicity of his style, has procured for his writings a host of readers on both sides of the Atlantic.

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Among his best known works may be mentioned the following: "Voices of Freedom," Songs of Labor," "Home Ballads," "Snow-Bound," and "Among the Hills."

Notes. The pine trees of Norway are tall, straight, and strong; and these qualities make them desirable for masts of ships. Mt. Hecla is an active volcano on the Island of Iceland. Language. What is meant by The Frost Spirit? Mention another epithet applied to intense cold in the lesson.

What figures of comparison occur throughout the lesson?