usly spoken of, which Mendelssohn gave me as a
godfather's first present. It took me upwards of fifty years to fill the
little book, its pages being devoted only to those celebrities who were
also personal friends of mine. So I had not asked Rossini for his
autograph, as most people did on first acquaintance, and I had no reason
to regret the delay. "I must compose something for your horn," he said
one day; "I will write the notes; that is easy enough, but I can't draw
the staves, you must do that." I answered that I was proud to
collaborate, and so two pages of my album were filled. He composed an
allegretto-moderato of about thirty bars for the "Cor en mi," heading
it: "Theme de Rossini, suivi de deux Variations et Coda par Moscheles
pere," and signing it "Offert a mon jeune ami Felix Moscheles, G.
Rossini, Passy, ce 20 Aout 1860."

He sat down to the piano and spared no pains to teach me how to perform
it on the imaginary French horn--my vibrating lips. I introduced one of
those little hitches, not infrequent when moisture accumulates in the
tubes of the real instrument, a hiatus which the master graciously
approved of. "But," he said, "stand so that the audience cannot see how
it is done; you must keep up the illusion, and besides, remember this,
you must never show yourself at a disadvantage to the ladies." I have
never blown that horn of mine without thinking of his advice, however
little I have succeeded in acting up to it.

My father, responding to Rossini's invitation, wrote two brilliant
variations and coda of considerable length, which it cost me not a
little trouble to learn. Once that I had mastered their difficulties,
the piece became my _cheval de bataille_, and whenever I performed it,
accompanied by one of the two composers, I invariably made a.... But
enough! Happily this is not a place where I am expected to blow my own
trumpet.

I called one day to take leave of Rossini, when I was about to leave
Paris for a short time on a visit to my parents in Leipsic. This was
before Rossini had become personally acquainted with my father, and he
enjoined me to deliver a message to him. "Tell him," he said, "that I am
a pianist. I daresay he knows that I have written operas, but I
particularly want him to understand that I am a pianist too, not, to be
sure, of the first class as he is, but of the fourth."

"Tres bien, Maestro," I answered. "Je ne manquerai pas."

"Yes; but mind you deliver my message correct