could only regard in the light of an amusement. At
any rate, little Handel appears to have continued his practising
without interruption. The progress which he made with his studies,
however, made him long for an opportunity of hearing others play, and,
very naturally, of being allowed to express his musical thoughts upon
an instrument capable of responding with a fuller sound, though the
fulfilment of this latter wish was more than he dared hope for whilst
his father remained obdurate. One day, when Handel was seven years
old, his father announced his intention of paying a visit to the
castle of the Duke of Saxe-Weissenfels to see his son--a step-brother
of George Frederick--who acted as valet de chambre to the Duke. Handel
was most anxious to be allowed to accompany his father, because he had
heard that the Duke kept a great company of musicians to perform in
his chapel. But the father refused his consent, and the boy turned
away with a look of fixed determination in his eyes, which it was
well, perhaps, that the elderly surgeon did not perceive. 'I will go,'
muttered the boy to himself, as he sought the seclusion of his garret;
'I will go, even if I have to run every inch of the way!'

Handel did not know then that no fewer than forty miles lay between
his home and the ducal castle, but having formed his bold resolution
he awaited the moment when his father set forth on his journey, and
then, running behind the closed carriage, he did his best to keep pace
with it. The roads were long and muddy, and although he panted on
bravely for a long distance, the child's strength began at last to
fail, and, fearing that he would be left behind, he called to the
coachman to stop. At the sound of the boy's voice his father thrust
his head out of the window, and was about to give vent to his anger at
George's disobedience; but a glance at the poor little bedraggled
figure in the road, with its pleading face, melted the surgeon's
heart. They were at too great a distance from home to turn back, and
so Handel was lifted into the carriage and carried to Weissenfels,
where he arrived tired and footsore, but supremely happy at having won
his point.

Handel had certainly not formed too bright a picture of the musical
delights of the Duke's home. The musicians were most friendly towards
him, and, as he was by no means shy where his beloved art was
concerned, they soon became good friends. His delight was great when
he was told that he