"Very soon she said,—
"'He sings fine seconds to any thing we sing.'
"His voice was then strong, soft, and melodious. Just before he had completed his second year he had the whooping-cough, from the effects of which his voice underwent an entire change; it became and continued for years exceedingly rough and harsh, though it did not affect the taste or correctness of his singing.
"He was a little less than four years of age when a piano was brought to the house. The first note that was sounded, of course, brought him up. He was permitted to indulge his curiosity by running his fingers over and smelling the keys, and was then taken out of the parlor. As long as any one was playing, he was contented to stay in the yard, and dance and caper to the music; but the moment it ceased, having discovered whence the sounds proceeded, and how they were produced, he was anxious to get to the instrument to continue them. One night the parlor and the piano had been left open: his mother had neglected to fasten her door, and he had escaped without her knowledge. Before day the young ladies awoke, and, to their astonishment, heard Tom playing one of their pieces. He continued to play until the family at the usual time arose, and gathered around him to witness and wonder at his performance, which, though necessarily very imperfect, was marvellously strange; for, notwithstanding this was his first known effort at a tune, he played with both hands, and used the black as well as the white keys.
"After a while he was allowed free access to the piano, and commenced playing every thing he heard. He soon mastered all of that, and commenced composing for himself. He would sit at the piano for hours, playing over the pieces he had heard; then go out, and run and jump about the yard a little while, and come back and play something of his own. Asked what it was, he replied, 'It is what the wind said to me;' or, 'What the birds said to me;' or, 'What the trees said to me;' or what something else said to him. No doubt what he was playing was connected in his mind with some sound, or combination of sounds, proceeding from those things; and not unfrequently the representation was so good as to render the similarity clear to others.
"There was but one thing which seemed to give Tom as much pleasure as the sound of the piano. Between a wing and the body of the dwelling there is a hall, on the roof of which the rain falls from the roof of the dwelling, and runs thence down a gutter. There is, in the combination of sounds produced by the falling and running water, something so enchanting to Tom, that from his early childhood to the time he left home, whenever it rained, whether by day or night, he would go into that passage, and remain as long as the rain continued. When he was less than five years of age, having been there during a severe thunder-storm, he went to the piano and played what is now known as his 'Rain Storm,' and said it was what the rain, the wind, and the thunder said to him. The perfection of the representation can be fully appreciated by those only who have heard the sounds by the falling of the water upon the roofs, and its running off through the gutters.
"There was in the city of Columbus a German music-teacher who kept pianos and music for sale. The boys about the city, having heard much of Tom, sometimes asked the boys of the family to take him to town, that they might hear him. Upon these occasions they asked permission of this man to use one of his pianos; and, though he would grant the permission, he would not hear him. If he was engaged, he would send them to the back part of the store, which was a very deep one; if he had nothing to do, he would walk out into the street. When Tom was about eight years of age, a gentleman, having obtained permission to exhibit him, hired a piano of this man, and invited him to visit his concert. He indignantly rejected the invitation.
"The man, however, succeeded in awakening the curiosity of the wife of the musician sufficiently to induce her to attend; and she gave her husband such accounts, that he went the next night. After the performance was over, he approached the man, and said,—
"'Sir, I give it up: the world has never seen such a thing as that little blind negro, and will never see such another.'
"Encouraged by this, the exhibiter the next day applied to him to undertake to teach Tom. His reply then was,—