Afterward, when I met Wagner I could not help contrasting his lively manner and glowing enthusiasm with Schumann's reserve, which, however, was by no means repellent. Indeed, if I had been the greatest living musician, instead of a mere boy student, Wagner could not have received me with more kindness, or have talked to me more delightfully during the three memorable hours of my life which were spent with him. MORITZ HAUPTMANN [Illustration: Autograph of Mme. Schumann] My teacher in harmony and counterpoint was Moritz Hauptmann, a pupil of Spohr, and an excellent composer of church music, his motets being especially beautiful. He was the cantor and music director of the Thomas-schule at Leipsic, a position which years before had been held by Sebastian Bach. He was altogether a genial and attractive man, of gentle manner and disposition, and I at once became much attached to him. He was in delicate health and suffered constantly from dyspepsia, yet bore all of his ills with patience and equanimity. I remember that he had a passion for baked apples, one of the few things he could eat without ill results, and on his stove, a regular old-fashioned German structure of porcelain, nearly as high as the ceiling, there was always a row of apples in process of slow baking. His autograph is one of the most curious in my book, and is an excellent example of his technical knowledge. It is a _Spiegel-Canon_ ("looking-glass canon"). When held up to the mirror the reflection shows the answer to the canon in the related key. Not long after beginning my studies under Hauptmann, I received from my father a copy of his latest publication, being a collection of tunes, mostly of his own composition, for choir and congregational use in the church. He requested me to show this to Hauptmann and get his opinion, if practicable. I felt a decided reluctance to do this, because I thought my father's work was not worthy of the notice of such a profound musician, so I delayed the carrying out of his request. After a few weeks, however, I began receiving letters from my father upon the subject, and realized that I could not postpone action any longer. So one day, going to my lesson, I took the book with me. I kept it as well out of sight as I could during the lesson, and then at the last moment, when about to leave the room, I placed it on Hauptmann's table, telling him in an apologetic way of my father's request and seeking to excuse myself for troubling him. I said I was afraid he would find nothing in the book to interest him.