[Illustration: Haydn Crossing the English Channel. From painting by E. J. C. Hamman.] His first impressions of London, then a city of less than a million people, were of its great size and its noise. Many times the composer must have longed for the comparative quiet of Esterhaz, or of his own study in Vienna. An amusing anecdote is told of Haydn in London. One morning he came upon a music shop, and, going in, asked to be shown any novelties that might be for sale. "Certainly," answered the salesman, who forthwith brought out "some sublime music of Haydn's," as he termed it. "Oh, I'll have nothing to do with that," said the customer. "Why not?" asked the man, who happened to be a warm admirer of Haydn's music. "Have you any fault to find with it?" "Yes," said the composer, "and if you can show me nothing better than that, I must go without making a purchase." "Well, then, you had better go, for I've nothing that I can supply as suitable for such as you," and Mr. Shopman walked away. Before Haydn could reach the door, however, a gentleman entered, who was known not only to him, but to the music publisher. He greeted the composer by name, and began to congratulate him upon his latest symphony produced at Salomon's concerts. The music seller turned around upon hearing the name of Haydn, and said, "Ah! here's a musician who does not like that composer's music." The gentleman at once saw the joke, and, explaining the matter to the dealer, they all had a hearty laugh over the incident. Haydn was received with the warmest hospitality in London, and, like many other "lions," was at no little pains to secure sufficient time for his work amid the pressure of social engagements and the visits of celebrities of all kinds. Doctor Burney, the musical historian, with whom the composer had corresponded, wrote a poem in his honour. This appeared in the _Monthly Review_, and its concluding stanza runs as follows: "Welcome, great master! to our favoured isle, Already partial to thy name and style; Long may thy fountain of invention run In streams as rapid as it first begun; While skill for each fantastic whim provides, And certain science ev'ry current guides! Oh, may thy days, from human sufferings free, Be blest with glory and felicity, With full fruition, to a distant hour, Of all thy magic and creative power! Blest in thyself, with rectitude of mind, And blessing, with thy talents, all mankind." Less pleasant than such tributes was an experience Haydn had with a noble pupil, who called upon him, saying that he was passionately fond of music, and would be grateful if the composer would give him a few lessons in harmony and counterpoint, at a guinea a lesson. "Oh, willingly!" answered Haydn; "when shall we begin?"