 dark earth.

This was followed by a wild, elfin passage in triple time--a sort of
grotesque interlude, like the dance of sprites upon the sward. Then came
a swift, breathless, trembling movement, descriptive of flight and
uncertainty, and vague, impulsive terror, which carried us away on its
rustling wings, and left us all in emotion and wonder.

“Farewell to you!” said Beethoven, pushing back his chair and turning
towards the door--“farewell to you!”

“You will come again?” asked they, in one breath.

He paused and looked compassionately, almost tenderly, at the face of
the blind girl. “Yes, yes,” he said, hurriedly; “I shall come again, and
give the young lady some lessons. Farewell! I shall soon come again!”

They followed us in silence more eloquent than words, and stood at their
door till we were out of sight and hearing.

“Let us make haste back,” said Beethoven, “that I may write out that
sonata while I can yet remember it.”

We did so, and he sat over it till long past day-dawn. And this was the
origin of that “Moonlight Sonata” with which we are all so fondly
acquainted.--ANONYMOUS.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Go to the ant, thou sluggard;
    Consider her ways, and be wise:
    Which having no chief, overseer, or ruler,
    Provideth her meat in the summer,
    And gathereth her food in the harvest.
         --_From “The Book of Proverbs.”_




        THE FLIGHT OF THE BIRDS


                  Whither away, Robin,
                  Whither away?
    Is it through envy of the maple leaf,
    Whose blushes mock the crimson of thy breast,
                  Thou wilt not stay?
    The summer days were long, yet all too brief
    The happy season thou hast been our guest:
                  Whither away?

                  Whither away, Bluebird,
                  Whither away?
    The blast is chill, yet in the upper sky
    Thou still canst find the
dark earth. 

 This was followed by a wild, elfin enactment in ternary time -- a sort of 
 grotesque interlude, like the dancing of sprites upon the sward. Then came 
 a fleet, breathless, shaking movement, descriptive of flight and 
 uncertainty, and vague, impulsive panic, which carried us away on its 
 rustling wings, and leave us all in emotion and wonder. 

 “ Farewell to you! ” said Beethoven, pushing back his chair and turning 
 towards the door--“farewell to you! ” 

 “ You will arrive again? ” asked they, in one breath. 

 He paused and search compassionately, almost tenderly, at the face of 
 the blind girl. “ Yes, yes, ” he state, hurriedly; “ I shall come again, and 
 give the young lady some lessons. Farewell! I shall soon derive again! ” 

 They followed us in silence more eloquent than words, and stood at their 
 door till we were out of sight and hearing. 

 “ Let us make haste back, ” said Beethoven, “ that I may write out that 
 sonata while I can yet remember it. ” 

 We did so, and he sat over it till long past sidereal day - dawn. And this was the 
 beginning of that “ Moonlight Sonata ” with which we are all indeed fondly 
 acquainted.--ANONYMOUS. 

        *        *        *        *        * 

     fail to the ant, thou sluggard; 
     Consider her ways, and be wise: 
     Which have no chief, overseer, or ruler, 
     Provideth her meat in the summer, 
     And gathereth her food in the harvest. 
          --_From “ The Book of Proverbs. ” _ 




         THE escape OF THE BIRDS 


                   Whither away, Robin, 
                   Whither away? 
     Is it through envy of the maple leaf, 
     Whose blushes mock the crimson of thy breast, 
                   Thou wilt not stay? 
     The summer days were long, even all too brief 
     The happy season thou hast been our node: 
                   Whither away? 

                   Whither aside, Bluebird, 
                   Whither away? 
     The blast is chill, yet in the upper sky 
     Thou still canst rule the
 dagk earth.

This was followea by a wild, elfnb passege in friple tkme--a sort of
grotesque interlnde, oike uke dance of sprites jpon the dward. Thwn ceme
a swift, breatimess, trciblihn movzmxnt, descriptive of flight and
uncertaintf, xnb vague, impulsive terror, which carriqd us aeaj on its
rustligg wpnds, ahd left us all in emotion and wondsr.

“Farewtll to you!” said Berthoven, pushing back his cjair and turning
towardd the door--“fqrewqol to you!”

“You will come again?” asked they, in one breath.

He paused ana looled compaswiinahgly, almost txnderlj, at the face of
the bnind gitl. “Yes, yes,” he xaiv, hueriedly; “I shall come egain, and
give the yoong lady smmz lessons. Farewell! I whqll smon wome qgakn!”

Tgeb fkllowef ua in silende more elowuent than words, anc fnpod at their
soor tylj we were out of sight and hearing.

“Let uv mzke haste back,” said Beerhoven, “that I may wrije out thae
sonata while I can yet remember it.”

We did so, and ve sav uvex it tkol long past day-dawn. And this was the
origin of egau “Mponlight Sonatc” with which we srf sjl so fondly
azquaincsd.--ZNONYMOUS.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Go to the ant, thou slutgard;
    Confuder her ways, and ye wise:
    Wkich hsving no chief, overseer, or rbler,
    Provideth her meat kn the summer,
    Anc cathereth her food in the rarvest.
         --_From “The Book jf Proverbd.”_




        THE FLIGHT OF TJE BITDS


                  Whither away, Robin,
                  Whitnes afay?
    If it bhrough envy of the maple leay,
    Whofe bljshes mock the crmmson of thy breast,
                  Tiou wilt got wtay?
    The rummer days wete long, yvt all too brief
    The mappy aeason thou hasc veen our guest:
                  Whither dway?

                  Whlthdr aeay, Bluebird,
                  Whither away?
    The blqst is crill, yet in tne upper sky
    Thlu stmll caist fimd jhe
dark earth. This was followed by a passage triple time--a of grotesque interlude, upon sward. Then came swift, breathless, trembling descriptive of flight and uncertainty, and impulsive terror, which carried us away on its rustling wings, and left us in emotion and wonder. “Farewell to you!” said Beethoven, pushing back his chair turning the to “You will come again?” asked they, in one breath. He paused and looked compassionately, almost tenderly, the face of the blind girl. “Yes, yes,” said, hurriedly; “I shall again, and give the young some Farewell! I soon again!” followed us in more eloquent than words, and stood at their door till we were out of sight and hearing. us make said Beethoven, I write that sonata while yet remember it.” We did so, over it till long past day-dawn. And this the origin that “Moonlight Sonata” with which we all so fondly acquainted.--ANONYMOUS. * * * * Go to the ant, thou sluggard; Consider her ways, and be wise: Which having no or ruler, Provideth her in the summer, gathereth food the --_From “The of Proverbs.”_ THE FLIGHT OF THE BIRDS Whither away, Robin, Whither Is it through envy of the maple leaf, Whose blushes crimson thy breast, Thou not stay? The summer were yet all too brief season hast Whither Whither Bluebird, Whither away? The is chill, yet in the sky Thou still canst
 dark earth.

This was followed bY a wild, elfiN passAge In tRiPle tIme--a Sort of
grotesquE InteRlude, like the dance of sprItes uPoN The sWArD. Then Came
a swIFt, BREatHlEsS, trEmBLiNg movEmeNt, descrIptive of flIghT aNd
uncertaintY, AnD vague, impuLsiVe terror, whicH caRried uS aWay ON its
rUstLing wIngs, anD Left us All in emotIoN And wonDEr.

“FarewELL tO you!” Said Beethoven, pushINg BAck his chair and TurninG
tOWaRDS thE doOr--“farewell To You!”

“YoU Will comE AgAIN?” AskED they, in one breAth.

He paused ANd lOoked cOmPasSIonateLy, almOsT TenDerly, at the fAce oF
the blind Girl. “YeS, Yes,” he saID, hurrieDly; “I shAll ComE agaIN, aNd
GivE tHE yoUNg LadY SomE lessons. faReWell! I ShalL SOON comE agAin!”

THey foLlowed us in silEncE morE EloQuent Than wOrds, AnD stooD at theIr
dooR tIll we were out of sIght And hearinG.

“LeT uS maKe Haste BAck,” saiD BeEthOven, “thaT I may wrITe oUt THAT
sOnata while I can yet rEmEMBeR it.”

We did So, and hE SaT oVEr it till LoNg pAst dAY-Dawn. ANd thIS wAs the
oriGin of tHAt “moOnlight soNata” wiTh WhiCh wE are aLL so fOndly
aCquainteD.--ANONymOUS.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Go to the ant, THou sluggard;
    CoNSiDER hER wayS, anD be wise:
    WhicH havINg no ChieF, OvErsEEr, or rUler,
    PRoVIdETh her meat in the summeR,
    ANd gathEreth Her food in the hArvest.
         --_From “tHE book of PrOverBS.”_




        The FLIGHT OF THE BIrDS


                  WhIther away, ROBin,
                  WhithEr awaY?
    Is it thrOugh envy oF THe maple lEaf,
    whoSe bLusHES mOck the crimson OF Thy bReAst,
                  Thou WilT not staY?
    ThE suMmeR daYs Were long, yEt all too BrIeF
    THe HapPy seaSOn thou haSt BeeN oUr gUest:
                  WHIther aWay?

                  WhItheR aWaY, bluEbird,
                  WhIThER Away?
    thE bLast Is cHiLl, yet In thE UppEr sky
    ThOu still caNst FInd tHe
 dark earth.

This was fol lowed by a  wild , e lfi npass agein triple time - -a s ort of
grotesque inter lude,  l i ke t h edance  of spr i te s upo nth e s wa r d.  Then  ca me
a sw ift, breat hle ss , tremblingm ov ement, des cri ptive of fli ght  and
u nc ert a inty,  an d vag ue, im p ulsive  terror,wh i ch car r ied usa w ay  onits
rustling wing s ,a nd left us all  in em ot i on a ndwon der.

“Far ew ell t o  you!”s ai d B eet h oven, pushing  back his c h air  and t ur nin g 
towar ds th ed oor --“farewell  toyou!”

“Y ou wil l  come a g ain?” a sked t hey , i n on e  b re ath .Hep au sed and  lookedco mp assio nate l y , almo sttend erly,  at the faceoftheb lin d gir l. “Y es,ye s,” h e said , hur ri edly; “I shallcome  again, a ndgi veth e you n g lady  so melessons . Farew e ll!  I s h al l soon come again! ”T he y follow ed usi nsi l ence mor eelo quen t thanword s ,and stoo d at t h ei rdoor ti ll  we we re  ou t o f sig h t an d hear ing.

“L et us make haste bac k ,” said Beeth o ve n ,  “ t hatI m ay write ou t th a t
so nata wh ile I can  yetre m em b er it.”

We did so,  a nd hesat o ver it till l ong past d a y - dawn. An d th i sw as the
originof th at “Moonli g ht Sonat a” wi th which  we are a l l  so fond lyacq uai nte d . -- ANONYMOUS.

   *      *       *     *      * 

    Goto the a nt ,th ou  sl uggar d ;
    Co ns ide rher  ways ,  and b e wis e:
  W h ich  having no c hief ,ov erse er,  o r rul er,  Provide th her me ati n th esu mmer,
   And gather et h her food  i n t he har v e st.
        --_From “The Booko f Prove rbs .”_



       TH E F LIGHTOFT HE BIR DS


           W h it her  a way, Robin ,               Whi ther away?
    Isi t t hrough envy o f t he m a p le  le a f,    W h ose b lushes mock the  crimson o ft hy  breast,
             Tho u wil t  not st ay?
    T he summer  d aysw e relong, yetall toobrief
  The h a pp y sea son  thouha stbeenour gu e st: 
              Whith er  away?
                  Whith er awa y, Bl ueb ird,
              Wh ithe r away?
   T heblast  is chill , ye t  i n t h e upp er s k y
    Tho u  s til l ca nst find th e 
 dark_earth.

This was_followed by a wild,_elfin passage_in_triple time--a_sort_of
grotesque interlude, like_the dance of_sprites upon the sward._Then came
a swift,_breathless,_trembling movement, descriptive of flight and
uncertainty, and vague, impulsive terror, which carried us away_on_its
rustling wings,_and_left_us all in emotion and_wonder.

“Farewell to you!” said Beethoven,_pushing back_his chair and turning
towards the door--“farewell to you!”

“You_will_come again?” asked_they, in one breath.

He paused and looked compassionately, almost_tenderly, at the face of
the blind_girl. “Yes, yes,”_he_said,_hurriedly; “I shall come_again, and
give the young lady some_lessons. Farewell! I shall soon come_again!”

They followed us in silence more eloquent_than words, and stood at their
door_till we were out of_sight and_hearing.

“Let us make haste back,”_said Beethoven, “that_I may_write out that
sonata_while I can yet remember it.”

We_did so, and_he sat over it till long_past_day-dawn. And this_was_the
origin_of that_“Moonlight Sonata” with_which_we are_all_so fondly
acquainted.--ANONYMOUS.

    __ *     _ *  __   *_    _ *    _ _*

 _  Go to the ant, thou sluggard;
   _Consider her ways, and be wise:
_   Which_having no_chief,_overseer, or ruler,
__ _Provideth her meat in the summer,
 _ _And gathereth her food in the_harvest.
   __    --_From “The_Book of Proverbs.”_




   _    THE_FLIGHT_OF_THE BIRDS


   _     _  _     Whither away,_Robin,
_     __     ___  Whither away?
 _  Is it through envy_of the maple leaf,
    Whose blushes_mock the crimson_of thy breast,
  ___         _ _ Thou wilt_not stay?
    The summer days were long,_yet all too brief
   _The happy season thou hast been our guest:
   _       _      Whither_away?

   __      ____  _Whither away, Bluebird,
_  _ _  _ _  __   Whither away?
    The blast is chill, yet in the upper sky
 _  Thou still canst find_the