let it off, dictate." Happily, to this day he writes, and need not
have recourse to dictation.

When we joined our friends we found Van Lerius and Heyermans had been
pressed into the service, and were making sketches for my sister's
album. Du Maurier took up a pencil, and, with a few characteristic
touches, drew that sister's eyes. "Quand je les vois," he wrote
underneath, "j'oublie les miens. (Reflexion d'un futur aveugle.) When
I see them I forget my own. (Reflections of a man going blind.)"

Soon the main business of the evening was resumed. Was it Beethoven's
sonata for piano and violin, or a mighty improvisation on classical
themes that came first? I do not recollect; but I remember that du
Maurier's rendering of Balfe's "When other lips and other hearts,"
with my scratch accompaniment, was warmly greeted by all lips and
hearts present.

When these pleasant evenings had come to an end, the friendly
intercourse was not allowed to drop, and so a number of sketches by
her new friends found their way into Miss Clara's album.

In the following winter, when I left on a short visit to Leipsic, he
sent her a few lines through me. I quote from his letter because
the wording is peculiar, and illustrates his capacity for expressing
himself in a language that he had to evolve from his inner
consciousness:--

"Herr Rag schickt zu Fräulein Moscheles _sein_ empfehlung und _ihren_
bruder; es wird höflicht gebeten das sie wird die sach reciprokiren,
und in fünftzen dägen _ihr_ empfehlung und _seinen_ freund zuruck