moment, the boy’s pigtail.  For this jest he was punished and then dismissed from the school.  He could hardly realize it, in his first dazed, angry condition.  Not to enjoy the busy life any more, not to see Michael and the others and have a comfortable home and sing in the Cathedral.  How he lived after that he hardly knew.  But several miserable days went by.  One rainy night a young man whom he had known before, came upon him near the Cathedral, and was struck by his white, pinched face.  He asked where the boy was living.  “Nowhere—­I am starving,” was the reply.  Honest Franz Spangler was touched at once.

“We can’t stand here in the rain,” he said.  “You know I haven’t a palace to offer, but you are welcome to share my poor place for one night anyway.  Then we shall see.”

It was indeed a poor garret where the Spanglers lived, but the cheerful fire and warm bread and milk were luxuries to the starving lad.  Best of all was it to curl up on the floor, beside the dying embers and fall into refreshing slumber.  The next morning the world looked brighter.  He had made up his mind not to try and see his brother; he would support himself by music.  He did not know just how he was going to do this, but determined to fight for it and never give in.

Spangler, deeply touched by the boy’s forlorn case, offered to let him occupy a corner of his garret until he could find work, and Josef gratefully accepted.  The boy hoped he could quickly find something to do; but many weary months were spent in looking for employment and in seeking to secure pupils, before there was the slightest sign of success.  Thinly clad as he was and with the vigorous appetite of seventeen, which was scarcely ever appeased, he struggled on, hopeful that spring would bring some sort of good cheer.

But spring came, yet no employment was in sight.  His sole earnings had been the coppers thrown to him as he stood singing in the snow covered streets, during the long cold winter.  Now it was spring, and hope rose within him.  He had been taught to have simple faith in God, and felt sure that in some way his needs would be met.

At last the tide turned slightly.  A few pupils attracted by the small fee he charged, took lessons on the clavier; he got a few engagements to play violin at balls and parties, while some budding composers got him to revise their manuscripts for a small fee.  All these cheering signs of better times made Josef hopeful and grateful.  One day a special piece of good fortune came his way.  A man who loved music, at whose house he had sometimes played, sent him a hundred and fifty florins, to be repaid without interest whenever convenient.

This sum seemed to Haydn a real fortune.  He was able to leave the Spanglers and take up a garret of his own.  There was no stove in it and winter was coming on; it was only partly light, even at midday, but the youth was happy.  For he had acquired a little worm-eaten spinet, and he had added to his treasures the first six sonatas of Emmanuel Bach.