Traversing rapidly the streets of Bonn, young Beethoven was soon at his own door. An unusual bustle within attracted his attention. To his eager questions the servants replied that their master was dying. Shocked to hear of his danger, Louis flew to his apartment. His brothers were there, also his mother, weeping; and the physician supported his father, who seemed in great pain.
Louis clasped his father's cold hand, and pressed it to his lips, but could not speak for tears.
"God's blessing be upon you, my son!" said his parent. "Promise me that throughout life you will never forsake your brothers. I know they have not loved you as they ought; that is partly my fault; promise me, that whatever may happen you will continue to regard and cherish them."
"I will—I will, dear father!" cried Louis, sobbing. Beethoven pressed his hand in token of satisfaction. The same night he expired. The grief of Louis was unbounded.
It was a bitter thing thus to lose a parent just as the ties of nature were strengthened by mutual appreciation and confidence; but it was necessary that he should rouse himself to minister support and comfort to his suffering mother.
To Be Continued.
Lecky On Morals.
[Footnote 155]