itself. It would seem, indeed, as if for Felix Mendelssohn
time was as truly elastic as some other busy folk would fain have it
to be.

Hand in hand with this thoroughness in regard to work went, as we have
intimated, a love of frolic and games and every species of fun that
the mind of a healthy and spirited boy could devise; and with all,
permeating all, was a lovability that won its way to every heart.
Rarely has such a perfect combination of light-heartedness and
seriousness--capacity for the hardest work and the keenest enjoyment
of life--been seen as that which burst upon the world in the person of
Felix Mendelssohn. The quickness with which he made friends, the
firmness with which he bound those friends to himself, the constancy
and affection which he lavished upon those nearest and dearest to him,
were alike extraordinary.

One day a famous composer, named Carl von Weber, was walking in Berlin
in company with his young friend and pupil, Jules Benedict, when the
pair observed a slightly-built youth of about twelve years of age,
with long, dark curls and bright, dark eyes, advancing towards them.
Suddenly the boy's keen eyes sparkled with the joy of recognition, for
Carl Weber had lately visited his father's house, and he had taken a
great liking to him at first sight; and now, without giving the
composer time to realise the fact that they had met before,
Mendelssohn, with a run and a spring, had thrown his arms about
Weber's neck, and was entreating him to accompany him home. As soon as
the astonished musician could speak he turned to his friend, and with
a comical air, half apologetic and half proud, said, 'This is Felix
Mendelssohn.' The friend held out his hand with a smile. Felix gave
him a quick glance, then seized the hand in both of his own. The
glance and the action that followed it settled the matter--Jules
Benedict and he must be friends henceforth. Weber stood by, laughing
at his young friend's enthusiasm, and Felix turned to him sharply and
once more begged that he and Benedict would favour him with their
company. But Weber shook his head. He had to attend a rehearsal--he
had come to Berlin for that purpose. 'A rehearsal!' exclaimed Felix
disappointedly, and then the next moment his eyes flashed. 'Is it the
new opera?' he asked excitedly. Weber nodded. 'Oh,' said Felix
thoughtfully; then, indicating Mr. Benedict, 'Does _he_ know all about
it?' he inquired. 'To be sure he does,' assented the composer