of this century. Though he gained great fame as a player, he never succeeded in controlling the unruly member,—it would stutter in spite of him.
One day, in his rambles through the streets of London, he came across a shop where there was a parrot hung up for sale in the window. He and his friends were quite interested in the bird, and finally Lindley called out the shopkeeper saying, as he pointed to the polly, "C-c-ca-can h-he t-t-t-talk?"
"Yes," was the answer from the dealer, who thought he could see that it was mere curiosity that prompted the question, and not a desire to purchase. "Yes,—and a d—d sight better than you can, or I'd wring his blanked neck!"
19.—A CRITICAL COMPOSITION.
Musical progress depended largely at one time on the effect produced by one composition. It came about in this way: In the middle of the sixteenth century the music used in the Mass of the Catholic church had become so light and trivial that Pope Marcellus concluded he would discontinue the use of music in the service. But the great composer of that day, Palestrina (who, by the way, was generally known by the name of his native place), believing that could the Pope and cardinals hear a mass written in what he believed to be the true ecclesiastical style they would reverse their decision, begged them not to put the order into execution until they had given his music a hearing. The request was granted, and on Easter, 1555, this mass, called "Missa Papæ Marcelli," i. e., Mass of Pope Marcellus, was performed before the highest dignitaries of the church.
It was an entire change from the trivial church music of the time; so refined, elevating and appropriate was it to the sacred office for which it was intended, that the Pope and cardinals were delighted, and had no further thought of banishing music from the service. Another
