ove for
the art will overflow upon the two dear children," remarked Father
Mozart, gazing down tenderly on the little ones.

"Why not," answered the mother; "you long ago promised to begin
lessons with Nannerl; can she not start this very night?"

"Yes, indeed, Papachen, may I not learn to play the piano? I promise
to work very hard."

"Very well," answered the father; "you shall see I am grateful for all
the love you have showed me tonight, and I will begin to teach Nannerl
at once."

"I want to learn music too," broke in little Wolfgang, looking at his
father with beaming eyes.

Every one laughed at this, while the father said baby Wolfgang would
have to grow some inches before he could reach the keys.

The lesson began, and the little girl showed both quickness and
patience to grasp the ideas. No one at first noticed the tiny child
who planted himself at his sister's elbow, the light of the candles
falling on his delicate, sensitive features and bright brown hair. His
glance never left Nannerl's fingers as they felt hesitatingly
among the white and black keys, while his ear easily understood the
intervals she tried to play.

When the little girl left the piano, or the harpsichord, as it was
called in those days, Wolfgang slipped into her place and began to
repeat with his tiny fingers what his father had taught her. He sought
the different intervals, and when at last he found them, his little
face beamed with joy. In a short time he was able to play all the
simple exercises that had been given his sister.

The parents listened to their wonder-child with ever increasing
astonishment, mingled with tears of emotion. It was plain to be seen
that Wolfgang must have lessons as well as Nannerl. And what joy it
would be to teach them both.

It was a happy household that retired that night. Nannerl was happy
because she at last had the chance to take piano lessons. Wolfgang,
little "Starbeam," dreamed of the wonderful Goddess of Music, who
carried him away to fairyland which was filled with beautiful music.
The parents were filled with joy that heaven had granted them such
blessings in their children.

The musical progress of the children was quite remarkable. Marianne,
which was Nannerl's real name, soon began to play very well indeed,
while little Wolfgang hardly had to be told anything in music, for
he seemed to know it already. The father would write Minuets for the
little girl to study; her tiny brother wou