ght the aged musician from his retirement to form
one of the brilliant gathering assembled at Count Pallavicini's
mansion to witness the boy's playing. It was a great compliment to
Mozart, but an even greater compliment to the country from which he
came, and Wolfgang put forth his best powers, with the result that he
earned the judge's warmly expressed commendation. Leopold was
overjoyed at Wolfgang's success, and opined that Bologna would form a
centre from which the boy's fame would spread all over Italy, an
opinion that was justified by the results. As for Martini, he took to
Wolfgang at once, insisted that he should visit him regularly whilst
they remained in Milan, and gave him fugue subjects to work out at his
lodgings. Mozart worked hard at these tasks, and the Padre expressed
himself as perfectly satisfied with the boy's knowledge of
composition.

The journey to Rome, in fact, was a succession of triumphs, which it
would require a volume by itself to attempt to describe in detail. At
Florence he was invited to play before the Court of the Archduke
Leopold, and solved, 'as easily as if he were eating a bit of bread,'
the difficult problems proposed by the Court music-director, who was
regarded as one of the best contrapuntists of the day. Here he met
Thomas Linley, a boy of about his own age, the son of the English
composer, who was studying the violin under Nardini. Linley's playing
was already exciting much attention, and as he showed great promise in
his compositions as well, people were building high hopes as to his
future. Mozart and he instantly became close friends, and when the
time came for parting neither could restrain his tears. They were
destined never to meet again, for a few years later poor Linley was
drowned through the upsetting of a boat whilst on a pleasure excursion
in Lincolnshire. Mozart never forgot the bright friendship which had
flashed into his life during those few days spent at Florence, and
many years afterwards he would refer in terms of endearment to the
young genius whose career had been thus untimely cut off.

It was Holy Week when Mozart and his father reached Rome, and the city
lay under the spell of that solemn time. The travellers at once bent
their steps to the Sistine Chapel in order to hear the celebrated
_Miserere_, written by Allegri, performed. Wolfgang had been looking
forward to this moment during the latter stages of his journey with
the deepest interest. He had he