He explained for about half an hour, and the sum of it was that the present methods of teaching music were wrong, absolutely wrong, and that he had discovered a true way. The sol-fa system had a germ of truth in it, inasmuch as it was based on ‘mental effect’; but his way was to teach music by colour. Down to the piano he went and struck a note. ‘How many vibrations make up that note?’ I could not tell him. He told me. He uncovered his package. It was the keyboard of a pianoforte, or, rather, an imitation of one, but painted in all the colours imaginable--blue and green, yellow and red, and all their shades following one after the other. Touching a brilliant C, he asked: ‘How many vibrations of light does it take to make up that colour?’ I could not tell him. Again he enlightened me: ‘The same number that it took to make up the C that I struck on the instrument. Now I’ll proceed to verify it with my piccolo.’ He blew a shrill note. ‘How many----’ I stopped him, telling him that I was not a scientific man, and was quite of the same opinion as himself. I got him out by promising him a breakfast, and left him and his key-board at a neighbouring coffee-shop. I gave him money for his breakfast, but I heard afterwards that he played his piccolo for them by way of payment, and wanted his dinner on the same terms; but they ejected him. I paid his lodgings for a month. He and old Jane paid us many visits. If I had been a clever man, I should have gone on tour with the pair. I am sure there was money in them; such a pair were well worth knowing.