One proof of the professor's beneficence had been his rescue of his friend
Schaaf on a bench in Madison Square one day, a recent arrival from Germany,
muttering despondently to himself. The professor learned that he had been
unable to secure employment, and that his last cent had departed the day
before. The professor took him home, clothed him and cared for him until
eventually another second violin was needed in the ---- Theatre orchestra.

Schaaf was now on his feet, for he was apt at the making of tunes, and he
picked up a few dollars now and then as a composer of songs and waltzes.

All of which has little to do, apparently, with my post-midnight walk
in that freezing weather. As I turned into Broadway, I was surprised to
collide with my friend the doctor.

"I came out for a stroll and a bit to eat," I said. "Won't you join me? I
know a snug little place that keeps open till two o'clock, where devilled
crabs are as good as the broiled oyster."

"With pleasure," he replied, cordially, still holding my hand; "not for
your food, but for your society. But do you know what you did when you ran
against me at the corner? For a long time I've been trying to recall a
certain tune that I heard once. Three minutes ago, as I was walking along,
it came back to me, and I was whistling it when you came up. You knocked it
quite out of mind. I'm sorry, for interesting circumstances connected with
my first hearing of it make it desirable that I should remember it."

"I can never express my regret," I said. "But you may be able to catch it
again. Where were you when it came back to you three minutes ago?"

"Two blocks away, passing a church. I think it was the shining of the