music a surcease
from his world-sorrow is very natural. A stricken people turns to music;
it forms a necessary part of all religious observance, and the dirge of
mourners, the wail of the "keener," and the songs of the banshee evolve
naturally into being wherever the heart is sore oppressed. It was the
slave-songs that made slavery bearable; and in the long ago, exiles in
Babylon found a solemn joy by singing the songs of Zion. Chopin drank in
the songs of Poland with his mother's milk, and while yet a child began
to give them voice in his own way.

In the meantime his father's fortunes had mended a bit, and the family
had moved to Warsaw, where Nicholas Chopin was Professor of Languages at
the Lyceum. The title of the office fills the mouth in a very satisfying
way, but the emoluments attached hardly afforded such a gratification.

In Warsaw there was much misery, for the plunderer had worked
conscription and seizure to its furthest limit. Want and destitution
were on every hand, but still this brave people maintained their
University and clung to its traditions. The family of the Professor of
Languages consisted of himself, wife, three daughters and the son
Frederic. Their income for several years was not over fifteen dollars a
month, but still they managed to maintain an appearance of decency, and
by the help of the public library, the free museum and the open-air
concerts, they kept abreast of the times in literature, art and music.

There was absolute economy required, every particle of food was saved,
and when cast-off dresses were sent from the home of the Count it was a
godsend for the mother and girls, who measured and patched and pieced,
making garments for themselves, and for Frederic as well; so while their
raiment was not gaudy nor expressed in fancy, it served.

Chopin once said to George Sand, "I never can think of my mother without
her knitting-needles!" And George Sand has recorded, "Frederic never had
but one passion and that was his mother." Into all of her knitting this
mother's flying needles worked much love. The entire household was one
of mutual service, and gentle, trusting affection. The weekly letters of
Chopin to his mother from Paris, and the cold sweat on his forehead at
the thought of his parents knowing of his relationship with George Sand,
are credit-marks to his character. There is a sweet recompense in mutual
deprivation where trials and difficulties only serve to cement the
affect