Father, he is pure and good and exalted; seek not
to debase him by naming him in the category of man!"

"These are Eliza's teachings!" shrieked the old gentleman; and off he
bundled to vent his wrath on the maiden aunt. But it was little
satisfaction he got from Aunt Eliza.

After that the old gentleman kept a strict eye on Aurora, and very soon
he became satisfied of two things: First, that Aurora was sincerely in
love with the bassoon; and, second, that the bassoon cared nothing for
Aurora. That Aurora loved the bassoon was evidenced by her demeanor
when in his presence--her steadfast eyes, her parted lips, her heaving
bosom, her piteous sighs, her flushed cheeks, and her varying emotions
as his tones changed, bore unimpeachable testimony to the sincerity of
her passion. That the bassoon did not care for Aurora was proved by
his utter disregard of her feelings, for though he might be tender this
moment he was harsh the next--though pleading now he spurned her anon;
and so, variable and fickle and false as the winds, he kept Aurora in
misery and hysterics about half the time.

One morning the old gentleman entered the theatre while the orchestra
was rehearsing.

"Who plays the bassoon?" he asked, in an imperative tone.

"Ich!" said a man with a bald head and gold spectacles.

"Your name?" demanded the old gentleman.

"Otto Baumgarten," replied he of the bald head and gold spectacles.

"Then, Otto Baumgarten," said the father, "I will give you one hundred
dollars for your bassoon."

"Mein Gott!" said Herr Baumgarten, "dat bassoon gost me not half so
much fon dot!"

"Never mind!" replied the old gentleman. "Take the money and give me
the bassoon."

Herr Baumgarten did not hesitate a moment. He clutched at the gold
pieces, and while he counted them Aurora's father was hastening up the
street with the bassoon under his arm. Aurora saw him coming, and she
recognized the idol of her soul; his silver-plated keys were not to be
mistaken. With a cry of joy she met her father in the hallway,
snatched the bassoon to her heart, and covered him with kisses.

"He makes no answer to your protestations!" said her father. "Come,
give over a love that is hopeless; cast aside this bassoon, who is
hollow at heart, and whose affection at best is only platonic!"

"You speak blasphemies, father," cried Aurora, "and you yourself shall
hear how he loves me, for when I but put my lips to this slender
mouthpiece there s