In these endeavors our father led the way in an exemplary manner.  He had never drawn; but he was unwilling to remain behind, now that his children pursued this art, and would give, even in his old age, an example how they should proceed in their youth.  He therefore copied several heads of Piazetta, from his well-known sheets in small octavo, with an English lead-pencil upon the finest Dutch paper.  In these he not only observed the greatest clearness of outline, but most accurately imitated the hatching of the copperplate with a light hand—­only too slightly, as in his desire to avoid hardness he brought no keeping into his sketches.  Yet they were always soft and accurate.  His unrelaxing and untiring assiduity went so far, that he drew the whole considerable collection number by number; while we children jumped from one head to another, and chose only those that pleased us.

About this time the long-debated project, long under consideration, for giving us lessons in music, was carried into effect; and the last impulse to it certainly deserves mention.  It was settled that we should learn the harpsichord, but there was always a dispute about the choice of a master.  At last I went once accidentally into the room of one of my companions, who was just taking his lesson on the harpsichord, and found the teacher a most charming man:  for each finger of the right and left hand he had a nickname, by which he indicated in the merriest way when it was to be used.  The black and white keys were likewise symbolically designated, and even the tones appeared under figurative names.  Such a motley company worked most pleasantly together.  Fingering and time seemed to become perfectly easy and obvious; and, while the scholar was put into the best humor, every thing else succeeded beautifully.

Scarcely had I reached home, than I importuned my parents to set about the matter in good earnest at last, and give us this incomparable man for our master on the harpsichord.  They hesitated, and made inquiries:  they indeed heard nothing bad of the teacher, but, at the same time, nothing particularly good.  Meanwhile, I had informed my sister of all the droll names:  we could hardly wait for the lesson, and succeeded in having the man engaged.

The reading of the notes began first; but, as no jokes occurred here, we comforted ourselves with the hope, that when we went to the harpsichord, and the fingers were needed, the jocular method would commence.  But neither keys nor fingering seemed to afford opportunity for any comparisons.  Dry as the notes were, with their strokes on and between the five lines, the black and white keys were no less so:  and not a syllable was heard, either of “thumbling,” “pointerling,” or “gold finger;” while the countenance of the man remained as imperturbable during his dry teaching as it had been before during his dry jests.  My sister reproached me most bitterly for having deceived her, and actually believed that it was all an invention of mine.  But I was myself confounded and learned little, though the man at once went regularly enough to work; for I kept always expecting that the former jokes would make their appearance, and so consoled my sister from one day to another.  They did not re-appear, however; and I should never have been able to explain the riddle if another accident had not solved it for me.