width="100%" src="@public@vhost@g@gutenberg@html@files@13517@13517-h@images@32-1.png" alt="MOSCHELES ET MOI SI NOUS N'AVIONS PAS ÉTÉ ARTISTES." tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}img"/> MOSCHELES ET MOI SI NOUS N'AVIONS PAS ÉTÉ ARTISTES.

SI NOUS AVIONS ÉTÉ CHEVAUX.	F. S'IL ETAIT CHEVAL.

The sketch shows how it is being applied by a devoted Sister of Mercy.

SI NOUS AVIONS ÉTÉ MILITAIRES.

In those days railway travelling was not as rapid as it is now, but one could get from Antwerp to Malines in about an hour, a circumstance which I frequently turned to account. Du Maurier's mother had come to live with him, his sister joining them for a short time, and the home in quiet old Malines soon became a sort of haven of rest. I spent many a happy day and night there, on which occasions I am bound to say that the piano, requisitioned by me for some special purposes of musical caricature, detracted somewhat from the restfulness of the haven. However that may have been, such intrusion was never resented; my Swedish prima donna, or my qualifications as a basso profondo, or a brass-bandsman, were always treated with the greatest indulgence by the ladies, and my high soprano flourished and positively reached unknown altitudes under the beneficent sunshine of their applause. (For all that I never attempted Chopin's "Impromptu.")

"CE SACRÉ VESICATOIRE."

ISABEL DU MAURIER.

Then du Maurier would sing the French "romance" or the English song, or he would "dire la chansonnette," and what with his sympathetic tenor and his intuitive knowledge of music, he seemed to be able to express more than many who had had the advantage of a musical training. A few old letters of his remind me that we were audacious enough to write verses and music, he doing the former, I the latter.

"Here's something I particularly want you to do," he writes. "Take strong coffee, inspire yourself, think of your 'Ideal,' and compose some very pretty music to the enclosed words, with which Rag's ideal flame has inspired Rag—surtout, let it be as good as possible, with accompaniment à l'avenant. An alteration in the music of each stanza would render the gradation of energy expressed in the words, 'Je compte sur toi.'" (How du Maurier came by the name of "Rag" I must tell later on.) Then follow the words:—

Two slight sketches of "L'auteur de profil" and "Le compositeur de face" head the page.

Soon afterwards he sends me another poetical effusion and writes:

"DEAR BOBTAIL,—I send you the Serenade composed 'tant bien que mal' last night, not 'entre la poire et le fromage,' but between the tea and the pears. I am afraid you will not find it as dramatic as you wished; but I don't feel it otherwise, and as Mahomet can't write words to the mountain's music, the mountain must try and adapt its music to the verses of Mahomet.

"You see I have indulged in poetic license; for instance, the first tenor says he hears the folks doing the light fantastic toe. One might suppose they danced in sabots—mere poetic license, and besides, a first tenor ought to have very good ears.... So now, my lad, inspire yourself."

What the result of his appeal to my inspiration may have been, I do not remember, but I find this is what he writes on the subject—

"CARISSIMO,—In vain have I taxed Rag's inventive powers to alter the last stanza; we must e'en stick to 'Ce