This was only the beginning of a series of weekly musical evenings at the Mendelssohn home.  Felix, with his dark curls, his shining eyes, and charming manners, was the life of anything he undertook.  He often conducted his little pieces, but did not monopolize the time.  Sometimes all four children took part, Fanny at the piano, Rebekka singing, Paul playing the ’cello and Felix at the desk.  Old Zelter was generally present, and though averse to praising pupils, would often say a few words of encouragement at the close.

Felix was at this time but little more than twelve years old.  He had within the last year composed fifty or sixty pieces, including a trio for piano and strings, containing three movements, several sonatas for the piano, some songs and a musical comedy in three scenes, for piano and voices.  All these were written with the greatest care and precision, and with the date of each neatly added.  He collected his pieces into volumes; and the more work he did the more neatly he wrote.

The boy Felix had a wonderful gift for making friends.  One day he suddenly caught sight of Carl Maria von Weber walking along the streets of Berlin, near his home.  He recognized the famous composer at once, as he had lately visited his parents.  The boy’s dark eyes glowed with pleasure at the recognition, and tossing back his curls, he sprang forward and threw his arms about Weber’s neck, begging him to go home with him.  When the astonished musician recovered himself, he presented the boy to Jules Benedict, his young friend and pupil who walked at his side, saying, “This is Felix Mendelssohn.”  For response Felix, with a bright look, seized the young man’s hand in both his own.  Weber stood by smiling at the boy’s enthusiasm.  Again Felix besought them to come home with him, but Weber had to attend a rehearsal.  “Is it for the opera?” the boy cried excitedly.

“Yes,” answered the composer.

“Does he know all about it?” asked Felix, pointing to Benedict.

“Indeed he does,” answered the composer laughing, “or if he doesn’t he ought to for he has been bored enough with it already.”  The boy’s eyes flashed.

“Then you, will come with me to my home, which is quite near, will you not?” There was no refusing those appealing dark eyes.  Felix again embraced Weber, and then challenged his new friend, Mr. Benedict, to race him to the door of his house.  On entering he dragged the visitor upstairs to the drawing-room, exclaiming, “Mama, Mama, here is a gentleman, a pupil of Carl Weber, who knows all about the new opera, ‘Der Freischuetz.’”