>From the spacious brick piazza, we had a lovely view out over
the rolling Manomet Hills. The blue on the distant bluffs grew
silvery in the moonlight and the orchestra filled the place with
delightful music, so in accord with the murmuring waves, that we
thought as did Hogg, the poet:

Of all the arts beneath the heaven
That man has found or God has given,
None draws the soul so sweet away,
As music's melting, mystic lay.


After the orchestra ceased playing, a young man stepped to the
piano and gave a beautiful rendition of Beethoven's Moonlight
Sonata; recalling our sojourn in the city of Bonn and the
pilgrimage to the home of this wonderful genius. How like this
must have been that night on which the famous master was stirred
with emotion.

"One moonlight evening, while out walking with a friend, through
one of the dark, narrow streets of his native city, as they were
passing a humble dwelling, the sweet tones of a piano floated
out on the evening air, that throbbed with the sweet notes of
the nightingale.

"Hush!" said Beethoven, "what sound is that? It is from my
Sonata in F. Hark! How well it is played!"

There was a sudden break in the finale, when a sobbing voice
exclaimed: