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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 12, No. 71, September, 1863"

"
Overcome by his emotion, he sat down and sobbed aloud.
At that moment, hearing my name called loudly in the hall, I went out,
and was informed that my audience was waiting at the Lyceum, and had
been waiting nearly fifteen minutes!

II.
Next morning, bright and early, I was in the artist-pilgrim's room,
listening to that which it thrilled him to tell and me to hear. And
first he told me the story of Schumann's love.
The "old schoolmaster," Wieck, trained his daughter more ambitiously
than judiciously; and, indeed, none but one of the elect would ever have
survived the tasks imposed on her childhood. Indeed, she had no
childhood: at the piano she was kept through all the bright days, roving
only from scale to scale, when she should have been roving from flower
to flower. At length her genius asserted itself, and she entered into
her destiny; thenceforth flowers bloomed for her out of exercise-books,
and she could touch the notes which were sun-bursts, and those which
were mosses beneath them.


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