“Nothing but distressing reports came from our army, and we were almost immediately in the power of the French troops,[[2]] each house being crammed with men. In that in which we were obliged to bewail in silence our cruel fate, no less than 16 privates were quartered, besides some officers who occupied the best apartments, and this lasted for about two years A gap occurs here, between the years 1757 and 1760, several pages having been torn out in both the original “Recollections” and the unfinished memoir commenced in 1840. In the former, a sentence beginning “the next time I saw him [Jacob] was when he came running to my mother with a letter, the contents of which,” remains unfinished, and the narrative recommences with: “After reading over many pages, I thought it best to destroy them, and merely to write down what I remember to have passed in our family.” Accordingly there is no record of anything preserved during this interval until May, 1760, when the head of the family returned to it for good—broken in health and worn out by hardships to which he was no longer equal, but strong in purpose and devoting himself at once to the musical education of his children and to giving lessons to the numerous pupils who soon came to seek instruction from so excellent a master. Jacob returned for the second time from England at the end of 1759, and obtained the place of first violin in the court orchestra. As usual the appearance of this member of the family caused a general upset of domestic comfort, for “when he came to dine with us, it generally happened that before he departed his mother was as much out of humour with him as he was at the beefsteaks being hard, and because I did not know how to clean knives and forks with brickdust.” 1760-1761. Early Recollections. The younger children made great progress under their father’s careful training, and with all her propensity for seeing the dark side, the daughter’s recollections of this period afford glimpses of a tolerably happy household. If it was “a helpless and distracted family” to which, as she writes, her father returned, those epithets could ill apply to the father himself, for there is abundant evidence that he was a man of no ordinary character—one who, in spite of constant suffering of a most distressing kind, persisted in hard work to the very end, and who set his children a noble example of patience, unselfishness, and self-denial. To the last, as his daughter records,— “Copying music employed every vacant moment, even sometimes throughout half the night, and the pen was not suffered to rest even when smoking a pipe, which habit he indulged in rather on account of his asthmatical constitution than as a luxury; for, without all exception, he was the most abstemious liver I ever have known; and in every instance, even in the article of clothing, the utmost frugality was observed, and yet he never was seen otherwise than very neat.... With my brother [Dietrich] now a little engaging creature of between four and five years old—he was very much pleased, and [on the first evening of his arrival at home] before he went to rest, the Adempken (a little violin) was taken from the lumbering shelf and newly strung and the daily lessons immediately commenced.... I do not recollect that he ever desired any other society than what he had opportunities of enjoying in many of the parties where he was introduced by his profession; though far from being of a morose disposition; he would frequently encourage my mother in keeping up a social intercourse among a few acquaintances, whilst his afternoon hours generally were taken up in giving lessons to some scholars at home, who gladly saved him the troublesome exertion of walking.... He also found great pleasure in seeing Dietrich’s improvement, who, young as he was, and of the most lively temper imaginable, was always ready to receive his lessons, leaving his little companions (with whom our neighbourhood abounded) with the greatest cheerfulness to go to his father, who was so pleased with his performances that—I think it must have been in October or November—he made him play a solo on the Adempken in Rake’s concert, being placed on a table before a crowded company, for which he was very much applauded and caressed, particularly by an English lady, who put a gold coin in his little pocket. “It was not long before my father had as many scholars as he could find time to attend, for some of those he had left behind returned to him again, and several families who had sons of about the age of my little brother, became his pupils and proved in time very good performers. And when they assembled at my father’s to make little concerts, I was frequently called to join the second violin in an overture, for my father found pleasure in giving me sometimes a lesson before the instruments were laid by after practising with Dietrich, for I never was missing at those hours, sitting in a corner with my knitting and listening all the while.” A serious interruption of this and all other occupations was caused by a severe attack of typhus fever which in the summer of 1761 threatened to be fatal, and “reduced my strength to that degree that for several months after I was obliged to mount the stairs on my hands and feet like an infant; but here I will remark that from that time to this present day (June 5, 1821) I do not remember ever to have spent a whole day in bed.” In spite of her strong objections to learning, the worthy mother had too correct a view of her duties to stand in the way of the necessary preparation for her daughter’s confirmation, who was accordingly, but not without complaints at the loss of time, released from her household avocations for this purpose. Alexander, who had been taken as a sort of apprentice by Griesbach, was now of an age to turn his great musical talents to profitable account, and returned to Hanover, where he obtained the somewhat mysterious situation of Stadtmusicus (Town Musician), the duties of which office involved