“Well,” said Sophie Menter, stepping back and smiling roguishly, “go on, lie down!”
“Oh, I did not mean it literally like that,” replied the count in consternation.
“Now you see,” said the young girl seriously, “that you should never say what you do not honestly mean.”
How a Fugue Was Made
Kirnberger, the son of a carpenter, was taught music at an early age. One day he sat in a corner of his father’s workshop, poring over a task his teacher had set him. Every now and then the boy would sigh deeply, and rub his forehead vigorously. His father who had been watching him for some time, at last asked:
“Well, my boy, what is the trouble?”
“Oh, father, I am to make a fugue, and I do not know how to begin!” Now fugue, in German, means also the groove in a board.
“You silly fellow, why couldn’t you ask me. Come right here and I’ll show you.” The good man took up a board, put his plane to it, and tried to show to his son how a fugue was made.