LITMIR.BIZ

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to see you sometimes when I am a great composer.'

      He took my hand. 'Will,' he said, with humid eyes, 'Music is a capricious goddess. It is not her most pious votary whom she most often rewards. Be a musician if she permits. If not, be a player only. Many are called but few are chosen. Of great composers, there are but one or two in a generation. 'Tis an eager heart, and an eager face. The Lord be good to thee, Will Halliday!'

      From time to time I visited this kind old man, telling him all that I did and hiding nothing. At the thought of my playing at the riverside tavern for the sailors to dance he laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. 'Why,' he said, 'it was but yesterday that I looked in at Change, because it does one good sometimes to gaze upon those who, like the pillars of St. Paul's bear up and sustain this great edifice of London. Among the merchants, Will, I saw thy respected father. Truly there was so much dignity upon his brow: so much authority in his walk: so much mastery in his voice: so much consideration in his reception: that I marvelled how a stripling like thyself should dare to rebel. And to think that his son plays the fiddle in a sanded tavern for ragged Jack tars to dance with their Polls and Molls. I cannot choose but laugh. Pray Heaven, he never learn!'

      But he did learn. My good cousin kept himself informed of my doings somehow, and was careful to let my father know.

      'Sir Peter looks well,' Mr. Camlet went on. 'He is perhaps stouter than is good for him: his cheeks are red, but that is common: and his neck is swollen more than I should like my own to be. Yet he walks sturdily and will wear yet, no doubt many a long year. London is a healthy place.'

      Presently I was able to tell him that I was about to be married, being in a position which seemed to promise a sufficiency. He wished me hearty congratulations, and begged to know the happy day and the place of our abode.

      On the morning after our wedding, before we had had time to look around us in our three-roomed cottage – it was designed for one of the Thames fisherman: hardly had I found time to talk over the disposition of the furniture, I perceived, from the casement window, marching valiantly down the lane from St. George's Fields, my old friend Mr. David Camlet. The day was warm and he carried his wig and hat in one hand, mopping his head with a handkerchief.

      'He comes to visit us, my dear,' I said. 'It is Mr. Camlet. What is he bringing with him?'

      For beside him a man dragged a hand-cart in which lay something large and square, covered with matting.

      'He is the maker of musical instruments,' I explained. 'Alice, what if – in the cart – '

      'Oh, Will – if it were – '

      Know that my great desire was to possess a harpsichord, which for purposes of composition is almost a necessity. But such an instrument was altogether beyond my hopes. I might as well have yearned for an organ.

      He stopped where the houses began and looked about him. He made straight for our door which was open and knocked gently with his knuckles.

      Alice went out to meet him. By this time he had put on his wig and stood with his hat under his arm.

      'The newly married lady of my young friend, Master Will Halliday?' he asked. 'I knew it. In such a matter I am never wrong. Virtue, Madam, sits on thy brow, Love upon thy lips. Permit an old man – yet a friend of thy worthy husband' – so saying he kissed her with great ceremony. Then at length, the room being rather dark after the bright sunshine, he perceived me, and shaking hands wished me every kind of happiness.

      'I am old,' he said, 'and it is too late for me to become acquainted with Love. Yet I am assured that if two people truly love one another, to the bearing of each other's burdens: to working for each other: then may life be stripped of half its terrors. I say nothing of the blessing of children, the support and prop of old age. My children, love each other always,' Alice took my hand. 'For better for worse; in poverty and in riches: love each other always.'

      I drew my girl closer and kissed her. The old man coughed huskily. 'Twas a tender heart, even at seventy.

      Alice gave him a chair: she also brought out the wedding cake (which she made herself – a better cake was never made) and she opened the bottle of cherry brandy we had laid in for occasions. He took a glass of the cordial to the health of the bride, and ate a piece of bride cake to our good luck.

      'This fellow ought to be fortunate,' he said, nodding at me. 'He has given up all for the sake of music. He ought to be rewarded. He might have been the richest merchant on Change. But he preferred to be a musician, and to begin at the lowest part of the ladder. It is wonderful devotion.'

      'Sir, I have never regretted my decision.'

      'That is still more wonderful. No – no – I am wrong' – he laughed – 'quite wrong. If you were to regret it, now, you would be the most thankless dog in the world. Aha! The recompense begins – in full measure – overflowing – with such a bride.'

      'Oh! Sir,' murmured Alice blushing.

      He took a second glass of cherry brandy and began a speech of some length of which I only remember the conclusion.

      'Wherefore, my friends, since life is short, resolve to enjoy all that it has to give – together: and to suffer all that it has to inflict – together. There is much to enjoy that is lawful and innocent. The Lord is mindful of His own – Love is lawful, and innocent: there is abiding comfort in love: trust in each other raises the soul of him who trusts and of him who is trusted: sweet music is lawful and innocent: if there is ever any doubt: if there is any trouble: if any fail in love: if the world becomes like a threatening sea: you shall find in music new strength and comfort. But why do I speak of the solace of music to Will Halliday and the sister of Tom Shirley? Therefore, I say no more.'

      He stopped and rose. Alice poured out another glass of cherry brandy for him.

      'I nearly forgot what I came for. Such is the effect of contemplating happiness. Will, I have thought for a long time that you wanted a harpsichord.'

      'Sir, it has been ever beyond my dreams.'

      'Then I am glad – because I can now supply that want. I have brought with me, dear lad – and dear blooming bride, as good an instrument as I have in my shop: no better in all the world.' He went out and called his man. We lifted the instrument – it was most beautiful not only in touch but also with its rosewood case. We set it up and I tried it.

      'Oh!' Alice caught his hand and kissed it. 'Now Will is happy indeed. How can we thank you sufficiently?'

      'Play upon it,' he said. 'Play daily upon it: play the finest music only upon it. So shall your souls be raised – even to the gates of Heaven.'

      Once more he drew my wife towards him and kissed her on the forehead. Then he seized my hand and shook it and before I had time or could find words to speak or to thank him, he was gone, marching down the hot lane with the firm step of thirty, instead of seventy.

      A noble gift, dictated by the most friendly feeling. Yet it led to the first misfortune of my life – one that might well have proved a misfortune impossible to be overcome.

      Then began our wedded life. For two years we continued to live in that little cottage. There our first child was born, a lovely boy. Every evening I repaired to the Dog and Duck, and took my place in the orchestra. Familiarity makes one callous: I had long since ceased to regard the character of the company. They might be, as Tom pretended, the most aristocratic assembly in the world: they might be the reverse. The coloured lamps in the garden pleased me no more: nor did the sight of those who danced or the pulling of corks and the singing of songs after supper in the bowers: the ladies were no longer beautiful in my eyes: I enquired not about the entertainment except for my own part: I never looked at the fireworks. All these things to one who has to attend night after night becomes part of the work and not of the entertainment and amusement of life.

      The musician is a being apart. He takes no part in the conduct of State or City: he is not a philosopher: or a theologian: he is not a preacher or teacher: he writes nothing either for instruction or for amusement: in the pleasures of mankind he assists but having no share or part in them. His place is in the gallery: they cannot do without him: he cannot live without them: but he is a creature apart.

      My mornings

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