"You received that extemporaneous extravaganza, then, Charles,--which I afterwards desired I had burned?" "I take that as especially unkind on your part, as I could not but enter with the most eager interest into every line." "Not unkind, though I own it was a little cowardly. I felt rather awed in submitting my ideas to you when you were at the very midst of music in its most perfect exposition." "Oh! I did not quite discover that, Lenhart. There are imperfections everywhere, and will be, in such a mixed multitude as of those who press into the service of what is altogether perfect." "The old story, Charlie." "Rather the new one. I find it every day placed before me in a stronger light; but it has not long held even with me. How very little we can do, even at the utmost, and how very hard we must labor even to do that little!" "I am thankful to hear you say so, Charles, coming fresh from the severities of study; but we are some few of us in the same mind." "Then let us hold together; and this brings me to my purpose. I am not going to settle in London, Lenhart,--that is a mistake of yours. I will never leave you while I can be of any use." "Leave me, Charlie? Ah! would that I could cherish the possibility of your remaining here! But with your power and your promise of success, who would not blame those who should prevent your appearance in London?" "I will never make my appearance anywhere, my dearest brother,--at least not as you intend. I could have no objection to play anywhere if I were wanted, and if any one cared to hear me; but I will never give up the actual hold I have on this place. As much may be done here as anywhere else, and more, I am certain, than in London. There is more room here,--less strain and stress; and, once more, I will not leave you." "But how, my Charlie,--in what sense?" "I will work along with you, and for you, while I work for myself. I am young, very young, and, I daresay, very presumptuous in believing myself equal to the task; but I should wish, besides being resident professor, to devote myself especially to the organization of that band of which you wrote, and which in your letter you gave me to understand it is your desire to amalgamate with your class. You do not see, Lenhart, that, young as I am, nothing could give me a position like this, and that if I fail, I can but return to a less ambitious course." "There is no course, Charles, that I do not consider you equal to; but I cannot reconcile it with my conscience to bind you to a service so signal for my own sake,--it is a mere sketch of a Spanish castle I had reared in an idle hour." "We will raise a sure fame on solid foundations, Lenhart, and I do not care about fame for its own sake. After all, you cannot, with your musical electicism, prefer me to become mixed up in the horrible struggle for precedence which, in London, degrades the very nature of art, and renders its pursuit a misnomer."