And this was the Father’s birthday, about the most important of all the family celebrations.  Already the roast on the spit was nearing perfection, while in the oven a fine cake was browning.

When all was ready and Leopold Mozart had received the good wishes of the little household, baby Wolfgang was mounted on a footstool to recite a poem, in honor of the occasion.  When he had finished it he stood quietly a moment then reaching out his tiny arms, clasped them tightly about his father’s neck, and said: 

“Dear papa, I love you very, very much; after God, next comes my papa.”

Leopold Mozart was a musician and held the post of Vice-Capellmeister.  Music was honored in this simple home, and when two of the Court musicians, friends of Father Mozart, came in to join the festivities on this birthday night, a toast was drunk to the honor of Musica, the divine goddess of tones.

“I wonder if even a little of my own musical knowledge and love for the art will overflow upon the two dear children,” remarked Father Mozart, gazing down tenderly on the little ones.

“Why not,” answered the mother; “you long ago promised to begin lessons with Nannerl; can she not start this very night?”

“Yes, indeed, Papachen, may I not learn to play the piano?  I promise to work very hard.”

“Very well,” answered the father; “you shall see I am grateful for all the love you have showed me tonight, and I will begin to teach Nannerl at once.”

“I want to learn music too,” broke in little Wolfgang, looking at his father with beaming eyes.

Every one laughed at this, while the father said baby Wolfgang would have to grow some inches before he could reach the keys.

The lesson began, and the little girl showed both quickness and patience to grasp the ideas.  No one at first noticed the tiny child who planted himself at his sister’s elbow, the light of the candles falling on his delicate, sensitive features and bright brown hair.  His glance never left Nannerl’s fingers as they felt hesitatingly among the white and black keys, while his ear easily understood the intervals she tried to play.

When the little girl left the piano, or the harpsichord, as it was called in those days, Wolfgang slipped into her place and began to repeat with his tiny fingers what his father had taught her.  He sought the different intervals, and when at last he found them, his little face beamed with joy.  In a short time he was able to play all the simple exercises that had been given his sister.

The parents listened to their wonder-child with ever increasing astonishment, mingled with tears of emotion.  It was plain to be seen that Wolfgang must have lessons as well as Nannerl.  And what joy it would be to teach them both.

It was a happy household that retired that night.  Nannerl was happy because she at last had the chance to take piano lessons.  Wolfgang, little “Starbeam,” dreamed of the wonderful Goddess of Music, who carried him away to fairyland which was filled with beautiful music.  The parents were filled with joy that heaven had granted them such blessings in their children.