Once again the music changed. The notes were as rapid as before, but they seemed fraught with sadness. It was such music as fills the heart with wonder. "Farewell to you," said Beethoven, pushing back his chair and turning toward the door. "Farewell to you." "You will come again?" said the brother and sister in one breath. He paused and looked tenderly at the face of the blind girl. "Yes, yes," he said, "I will come again and give you some lessons. Farewell! I will come soon again." His new friends followed him in silence and stood at the door until he was out of sight and hearing. "Let us hasten home," said Beethoven to his friend. "I must write out that sonata while the music is still in my mind." When they reached home, Beethoven seated himself at once and began to write. He worked until daybreak. When he had finished, he had written the _Moonlight Sonata_. FELIX MENDELSSOHN (1809-1847) If you were to go into the woods and hear the rustling of the leaves, the singing of the birds, and the babbling of the brook over the stones, could you come home and describe these things by playing on the piano? Without saying anything, could you tell your mother what you heard? Could you make the piano talk for you? Could you make it babble as the brook did? Could you make it sing the songs of the birds? [Illustration: FELIX MENDELSSOHN] There once lived a child in Germany who could do all this. His name was Felix Mendelssohn. He loved to go into the woods. When he returned, he would go straight to the piano. At such times his sister Fanny loved to hear him play. When he had finished, she would say, "Oh, Felix, did a bird sing like that to-day?" [Illustration: _Poetzelberger_ SONGS WITHOUT WORDS] This brother and sister lived in a beautiful home. Their father was a rich banker. He liked to buy things that he thought would please his children. Their mother was a gentle woman, who enjoyed music and could play the piano well. She could speak many languages. Felix had a dear old grandfather. The child used to climb on his grandfather's knee and beg for a story. The one he liked best told how he got the name _Mendelssohn_. "Long, long ago," the grandfather would say, "I lived in a small town in Germany. My father was a schoolmaster, whose name was Mendel. Every one in the village knew Mendel, the school-teacher. I used to go about a great deal with my father. When people saw us coming, they would say, 'Here is Mendel and here is Mendel's _sohn_, too.' So as I grew up, I was not called Moses Mendel, but Moses Mendelssohn." The child Felix understood then that his last name meant, "the son of Mendel." His first name means "happy," and he was well named. There never lived a brighter, sunnier-tempered little lad.