ened, blinded, in the midst of shrieking women and howling children, and surrounded by smoke, flame, and shattered timbers. Did he turn his attention to saving the mothers and little ones? The action of the man was characteristic.
Oblivious to all else, he rushed to his cabin, seized his precious Guarnerius, and putting it between his teeth leaped over the guards into the muddy water and swam to shore. There he tenderly examined his precious fiddle to see that it was not harmed. Ole Bull was nothing to Ole Bull at that moment. His beloved instrument occupied his mind to the exclusion of all else. The only "King Joseph Guarnerius" might have been lost!
117.—ABSENT MINDED.
Concentration of attention to the study in hand is, above all things else, a necessity for him who would produce valuable results. The ability to withdraw the mind from other affairs and to focus one's attention on the subject in hand is most valuable to a composer. Not, however that we would commend that degree of abstraction from every-day affairs that was Beethoven's habit when in the midst of a bit of congenial mental work.
In the history of absent-minded and forgetful men (that remains to be written) Beethoven must certainly have a prominent place.
It is related of him that about the time he was engaged in the "Pastoral" symphony he went into a restaurant and ordered dinner, but as there was some delay in serving the meal, his mind reverted to his composing; and when the waiter came and offered dinner, he waived him away, saying, "Thank you, I have dined," and laying down the price of the meal took his departure.
A friend once presented Beethoven with a noble steed,—and he did what you or I would do under the circumstances,—took a ride around town. After riding it a few times, he proceeded to forget its very existence,
