Page:Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag, Volume 1.djvu/40

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MY BOYS.
27

gress, though he often slapped his forehead with the despairing exclamation,—

'I am imbecile! I never can will shall to have learn this beast of English!'

But he did, and in a month had added a new language to the five he already possessed.

His music was the delight of the house; and he often gave us little concerts with the help of Madame Teiblin, a German St. Cecilia, with a cropped head and a gentlemanly sack, cravat, and collar. Both were enthusiasts, and the longer they played the more inspired they got. The piano vibrated, the stools creaked, the candles danced in their sockets, and every one sat mute while the four white hands chased one another up and down the keys, and the two fine faces beamed with such ecstacy that we almost expected to see instrument and performers disappear in a musical whirlwind.