mpressionable mind of Felix with
reverential awe. Zelter on his part, felt a certain pride in bringing
his favorite pupil to the notice of the great man, though he would not
have permitted Felix to guess what he felt for anything he possessed.

When they arrived, Goethe was walking in his garden. He greeted both
with kindness and affection, and it was arranged that Felix should
play for him next day. Zelter had told Goethe much about his pupil's
unusual talents, but the poet wished to prove these accounts by his
own tests. Selecting piece after piece of manuscript music from his
collection, he asked the boy to play them at sight. He was able to do
so with ease, to the astonishment of the friends who had come in to
hear him. They were more delighted when he took a theme from one of
the pieces and improvised upon it. Withholding his praise, Goethe
announced he had a final test, and placed on the music desk a sheet
which seemed covered with mere scratches and blotches. The boy
laughingly exclaimed, "Who could ever read such writing as that?"
Zelter rose and came to the piano to look at this curiosity. "Why, it
is Beethoven's writing; one can see that a mile off! He always wrote
as if he used a broomstick for a pen, then wiped his sleeve over the
wet ink!"

The boy picked out the strange manuscript bit by bit; when he came to
the end he cried, "Now I will play it through for you," which he did
without a mistake. Goethe was well pleased and begged Felix to come
every day and play, while he was in the city. The two became fast
friends; the poet treated him as a son, and at parting begged he would
soon return to Wiemar, that they might again be together. During the
following summer the whole family made a tour through Switzerland,
much to the delight of Felix, who enjoyed every moment. There was
little time for real work in composition, but a couple of songs and
the beginning of a piano quartet were inspired by the view of Lake
Geneva and its exquisite surroundings.

When Felix returned to Berlin, he had grown much, physically as well
as mentally. He was now tall and strong, his curling locks had been
clipped, and he seemed at a single bound to have become almost a man.
His happy, boyish spirits, however, had not changed in the least.
About this time the family removed from their home on the Neue
Promenade, to a larger and more stately mansion, No. 3 Leipsiger
Strasse, then situated on the outskirts of the town, near the Po