ighty-seven, when in his eighteenth year,
Beethoven made a visit to Vienna in company with several musicians from
the Elector's court at Bonn. This visit was a memorable event in the
life of the Master, every detail of which was deeply etched upon his
memory, to be effaced only by death.

It was on this visit to Vienna that he met Mozart, and played for him.
Mozart gave due attention, and when the player had ceased he turned to
the company and said, "Keep your eye on this youth--he will yet make a
noise in the world!"

The remark, if closely analyzed, reveals itself as noncommittal; and
although it has been bruited as praise the round world over, it was
probably an electrotyped expression, used daily; for great musicians are
called upon at every turn to listen to prodigies. I once attended
"rhetoricals" where the Honorable Chauncey M. Depew was present. Being
called upon to "make a few remarks," the Senator from New York arose and
referred to one of the speeches given by a certain sophomore as "unlike
anything I ever heard before!" Genius very seldom recognizes genius.

Beethoven had a self-sufficiency, even at that early time, that stood
him in good stead. He felt his power, and knew his worth. That
steadfast, obstinate quality in his make-up was not in vain. He let
others quote Mozart's remark; but he had matched himself against the
Master, and was not abashed.

* * * * *

Kinship is a question of spirit and not a matter of blood. How often do
we find persons who, in feeling, are absolutely strangers to their own
brothers and sisters! Occasionally even parents fail to understand their
children. The child may hunger for sympathy and love that the mother
knows nothing of, and cry itself to sleep for a tenderness withheld.
Later this same child may evolve aspirations and ambitions that seem to
the other members of the family mere whims and vagaries to be laughed
down, or stoutly endured, as the mood prompts.

Knowing these things, do we wonder at the question of long ago, "Who is
my mother, and who are my brethren"? Beethoven was a beautiful brown
thrush in a nest of cuckoos. He could sing and sing divinely, and the
members of his household were glad because it brought an income in which
they all shared.

About the year Seventeen Hundred Ninety-five, Beethoven went to Vienna,
and as he had been heralded by several persons of influence, his
reception was gracious. Charity has its per