Dr.
Jarocki comforted himself with meat and drink, but Chopin began to look uneasily about him for something to while away the weariness of waiting.
His search was not in vain, for in an adjoining room he discovered an old piano of unpromising appearance, which, on being opened and tried, not only turned out to be better than it looked, but even in tune.

Of course our artist did not bethink himself long, but sat down at once, and launched out into an improvisation on a Polish air.

One of his fellow-passengers, a German, and an inveterate smoker, attracted by the music, stepped in, and was soon so wrapped up in it that he forgot even his pipe.

The other passengers, the postmaster, his buxom wife, and their pretty daughters, came dropping in, one after the other.

But when this peaceful conventicle had for some time been listening silently, devoutly, and admiringly, lo, they were startled by a stentorian voice bawling into the room the words:--"Gentlemen, the horses are put in." The postmaster, who was indignant at this untimely interruption, begged the musician to continue.