power; for without it you will lack one of the greatest elements of success."

A POSING SCHOOL FOR MODELS? Chicago art-circles are discussing the establishment of a school for models. The Evening Post finds differences of opinion regarding the real usefulness and the practicability of such a movement, but also finds acknowledgment of the necessity for better models. Some artists declare that untrained models are the best; others that the plan is visionary. One enthusiastic advocate of such a school says:

While we now and then find models who will begin a pose with decided vivacity and spirit, their interest in the work is seldom sustained, and after ten or fifteen minutes they allow their figures to become lax and expressionless. Many others who possess figures of considerable grace are awkward, and seem unable to assume positions which are in the least artistic or acceptable. If a thorough course of Delsarte, such as is contemplated by the movers of this new scheme, would give grace of carriage to this class of models, it would place the artist profession under great obligations.

"Then there are those whose figures are excellent save in one or two particulars. With the women models this defect is usually a sunken chest. It has been clearly demonstrated that physical culture is able to develop any portion of the figure, and there is no reason to doubt that these defective figures could be made symmetrical and har monious. While the undertaking of establishing a training school of this kind is very difficult, and is beset with many obstacles, there is nothing to be said against its desirability."

MUSIC IN THE WORK OF THE CHURCH.

To attain the best results from church music is said to require both the theological point of view and the poetic inspiration. Does the responsibility for the use of the best means and methods of worship in the church rest primarily with the minister himself? Rev. William B. Chamberlain answers in the affirmative. Ideally, he says, we should have a ministry thoroughly educated in music; we can and must have, at least, some musical intelligence on the part of our clergy. Mr. Chamberlain gives his ideas of church music in a paper reproduced in a recent number of Chicago Music for November. The closing paragraphs contain the gist of his position:

"Church music to-day presents a serious problem. There seem to be two extreme tendencies. On the one hand, there is a reaching after something that shall draw' those who are unconnected with the church, and 'hold' those who are but slightly attached; and it is thought the music must be

highly artistic, even though it be heartless and godless. On the other hand, we find a strong tendency to popularize the singing of Scripture texts and religious sentiments, regardless of those properties of solidity and chaste beauty which the more cultivated and sensitive demand as the suitable expression of true religious feeling.

Now, there must be a way to harmonize the best elements in these opposing factions, to combine genuine spiritual instruction and edification with the satisfaction of the truest æsthetic feeling. I believe the solution is not far to seek. In our rich literature of sacred music, ranging from the majestic oratorio chorus and the gorgeous Te Deum down to the plain hymn-tune and the simple but sincere lyric song, we have abundance of adaptable material well fitted to give to the great mass of the people deeper satisfaction than they find in the luxurious display of the opera-house or the more refined pleasure of the chamber concert or even in the thrilling rendition of the grand orchestral symphony. Does this seem too great a claim? I believe it is justified by the fact of the greater number of listeners in the churches, and by the consideration that the most common as well as the deepest feelings of the heart are touched by the sober but inspiring strains of Christian song as they are not by the fictitious and emotionally extravagant. Just as pulpit oratory, made doubly practical by addressing the business and bosoms' of men, draws, in the aggregate, larger throngs than all the philosophical lectures, platform entertainments, and campaign speeches. .

་

As the minister should have something of the musician's view, so must the church musician be led to the minister's point of view. In either case, something can be done by individual and self-directed effort. Much more might be accomplished by systematic instruction and culture. A training school for church musicians, in which Chris tian men and women, already proficient in music technically, shall come to know, appreciate, and utilize the literary and the ecclesiastical bearings, and the devotional, evangelistic uses of music, is the 'consummation devoutly to be wished.'

44

Musical and poetic training of the ministry, together with religious training of musicianship, will throw the arch over the chasm which too largely and too shamefully separates art and piety."

AMERICAN ILLITERACY,

Protest is often heard against teaching foreign languages in the public schools. The Philadelphia Bulletin insists, for numerous reasons, that "languages should be postponed for college or for academic courses. It is not only a waste of time to set boys and girls to mastering modern tongues in the public schools, but it is also a distinct injury to their comprehension of their native speech."

The Bulletin couples the disproportionate time given to foreign languages in the elementary schools with the bad influ

ence of dialect writing, as a factor of American illiteracy:

"The truth is that an exhaustive knowledge of one's own tongue is the basis of a fair education in itself. To know the history of words is equivalent to knowing the history of things. The modern dictionary illustrates this; for the lexicon of the present is really an encyclopædia. The student who masters the etymology of the vocabularies even in ordinary use has the solid rudiments of a useful education; but the muddling of the mind just at its formative period by the confusing derivations of alien tongues is a hindrance, not a help. It is not, therefore, wholly the slovenliness of the family speech, the profligate distortion of the sensation press, or the varied schools of slang, to which educators ought to attribute our lingual degeneracy. It is doubtless true that the dialect drivel of so-called novelists plays no inconsiderable part in corrupting the public ear, as well as the public taste. That the unqualifiable trash, reproducing the_gibberish of the Bowery slums and other Boeotian segments of ignoble ignorance, likewise demoralize the public sense of lingual fitness. The new school of so-called humorists has a heavy responsibility in the degredation of common sense into an incomprehensive patois. Our humor has fallen into a jargon as repulsive as the 'pigeon English' of the Chinese."

THE AMERICAN DRAMATIC STANDARD RAISED.

We are no longer, theatrically speaking, the poor relations of England, according to Hillary Bell, the New York critic. Times have changed, he says, judging from recent tendencies. He writes in the New York Press:

"Until lately the successes in London did not condescend to make our acquaintance until they were out at the elbows. Theatrically considered, we were the poor relations of England, and when John Bull outgrew his sock and buskin, he sent them to us, like parcels of cast-off finery. We were the ol' clo'' men of the universe, the Sassenach waste-basket. When a play was forced to leave its country for its country's good, it emigrated to America. Neither plays nor players came to us until they were bald and toothless, with one foot in the grave and the other in the bankruptcy court. Authors had reached their second childhood before they intrusted their works to us, and actors chose America as a terrible remedy against starvation. This country was a Home for the Aged, and our theatric importations were usually in the last stages of senile dementia.

But it was inevitable that that condition of things had to right itself. America is a young and lusty land, with no stomach for stale meat. Our audiences began to grumble at the cold victuals left over from the dramatic feasts of their English cousins, and presently we set about cooking our own edibles. We went in for protection and organized homeindustries. We had the raw material, and

presently it began to be manufactured in competition with foreign makers. We pro

duced our own actors and plays and commenced to show an independent and intolerable spirit. What was the result? Bronson Howard, Paul Potter, David Belasco, Joseph Jefferson, Edwin Booth, Fanny Davenport, Clara Morris, Ada Rehan, John Drew, E. H. Sothern, Viola Allen. It is the thrifty characteristic of the English to sacrifice anything in order to hold their markets. America was the best market they had for their plays and concession must be made in order to keep it amiable. So, instead of reducing prices, they decided to give us some new goods. Thus it came about that we had the first taste of The Sign of the Cross,' The Prisoner of Zenda,' The Courtship of Leonie,' and various other important productions."

WARNING TO SINGER-CYCLISTS.

The editor of the Boston Leader thinks that warning against the abuse of the bicycle by interpretative musical artists is necessary. He holds that "the moderate use of this mode of progression is useful to healthy lungs, because it brings about normal inspiration and expiration; but the bicycle rider must always breathe through his nose and with closed lips, which he rarely does in this country.

"In the first place, it is doubtful if the bicycle is entirely safe for professional singers to use. In opposition to this assertion, there is the much-used fact that Jean de Reszké, Nordica, and Scalchi indulge in and have a passionate fondness for bicycling. But Jean de Reszké's voice 1S already on the decline; any change in Scalchi's voice would be for the better; and there is no expenditure of rare nerve-force in Nordica's singing, nor has she the delicately balanced organization. As the L'Echo Musical expresses it, the bicyclist expends too many of the vital elements to preserve the organic equilibrium. The bent position of the bicyclist prevents the normal use of the inspiratory muscles; respirration is never irregular.' We also agree with the opinion of maestro Carpi, that while bicycle riding favors the muscles of the legs, it is not favorable either to thoracic expansion or to pulmonary capacity.' The very position and attitude of the rider is opposed to these results.

"In our changeable climate, at least, the professional singer runs a risk whenever he or she uses a bicycle. If we may judge from facts gathered during the last few years from personal experience, we should say that bicycle riders are the favorite victims of influenza, catarrh, and colds. sum the matter up: Professional people who use the bicycle for its supposed power in increasing the capacity of the lungs are wasting their time. There are other expedients far safer and surer.'

To

LAW, ORDER, AND ART IN DRESS. "The first and absolute law that should govern dress at all times and for both

sexes is suitability," writes Annie Jenness Miller in the New York Woman's World for December. "The question of clothing for the human body is not trivial. No other takes precedence over it in importance to physical and to moral health, artistic beauty, and intellectual superiority at which higher human evolution aims.

"Admitting that dress should express law, order, and art, by which means the body and its clothing may have a common relation, we need to study distinct principles governing the body, in order that all clothing and ornamentation may be multiplied according to manifest laws.

"Over all objects worthy of ornamentation the human figure takes precedence. In the list of decorative fine arts, painting, statuary, carving, pottery, and other arts, we have objects pleasing because of the skill expended upon them, but none of them have the grace of life, the beauty of magnetic radiation, the expression of vital movement. A beautiful woman happily adorned by art enlists our enthusiastic devotion, while the most pleasing artistic ob ject excites only admiration. There is no comparison between a portrait and the living subject

The perfect human figure is an example of law, order, and art. Law is expressed in bodily functions; order, in correspondent parts-duplicate members on the right and left side of the body-eyes, ears, arms, legs, for example; and art, in general proportions which combine to give graceful expression to the whole. To understand thoroughly the importance of this subject of dress, one needs to look at its history from early ages, to trace changes which have had correspondence with the changing spirit of the times, and especially to note how the physical and the moral status of a people acts and reacts upon dress, and vice versa. To establish respect for higher laws of clothing to correspond with laws governing the body, it is necessary to establish the relationship existing between bodily functions and external expression firmly in the mind.

"Study of the complex functions of the hum an structure, its possibilities of grace, activity, and expression, compels belief that dress should take first place among the higher arts of a cultured nation. Dress as a whole and in detail should be the external indication of the part one has to play in life, the reflection of condition, disposition, physical characteristics, and occupation."

ment and the purity of the manners and the customs of the Arcadians to a natural love and reverence for the divine art. From the Hebrew Scriptures we learn that a cure was sought for the derangement of Saul in the harp-playing of David. Pythagoras highly commended music in treating the insane, and Thales found in music his most powerful and effectual means of combating a pestilence which once ravaged Sparta. Xenocrates soothed insane people by musical sounds, and Theophrastus declared and held, that even the venomous bites of reptiles were rendered less mischievous by subjecting the victim to the influence of melody. When physicians in the dark ages thought they recognized evil spirits as the cause of disease, music was declared to be the cure; and Martin Luther expressed the same belief, or rather faith, when he wrote that music is one of the most beautiful and glorious gifts of God, to which Satan is a bitter and implacable foe.'

"One of the kings of Spain was at one time in such a weak and morbid condition that his consort almost despaired of seeing his majesty in sound health again. He was so despondent that he completely neglected his person and refused to see or be seen by any of his subjects, and great grief and consternation prevailed over all the nation. In the midst of the dismay a happy thought passed through the mind of the king's consort. Farinelli was then a famous singer, and him she commanded to appear at the palace, and also several other artists, together with the private orchestra which performed only in the palace, but which now had been long inactive, owing to the mental alienation of the king.

"The queen desired Farinelli to sing and the other artists to perform, which they did, the performance taking place in a large chamber adjoining the suite occupied by the king. The effect was almost magical. His majesty remained quiet, listening, for two or three hours, and at last sent an attendant to command the presence of the artists. When they appeared before him, he bade them to ask for any favor in reason, promising to grant it. Farinelli besought the king to permit his attendants to dress and to shave him. After this was done, the king evidently felt better, and then Farinelli implored his majesty to allow his subjects to see him in the great gardens daily. The favor was heartily granted, and from that day dated the rapid convalescence of King Philip, of Spain.

"Stradella, by the magic of his voice, arrested the steel of his would-be murderer, an Italian brave. The assassin's uplifted hand sank harmless by his side, as he listened to Stradella's glorious tones, and emotion so completely overpowered him that he bowed his head and wept aloud, such was the influence of music upon even that fierce, rugged nature."

THE DRIFT OF ORATORY.

That the West, rather than the South, is producing the orators of our day will scarcely

be disputed.

The reason for this change is not far to seek, according to John Temple Graves, who, in an extended contribution to the Atlanta Journal, urges the South to strive to regain oratorical ascendancy by means of her educational institutions. We quote several paragraphs from Mr. Graves's article:

"The palm of oratory,-of soul-stirring eloquence-which has so long rested in undisputed supremacy with this land of warmth and sunshine and patriotic impulse, is surely and rapidly drifting to the virile life and the expansive civilization of the Middle West. Within the pres

ent decade, every voice-save one-which has risen rapidly out of obscurity into national prominence, has come from the Middle and the Western states. In the national arena, every figure that has come to the front in a leap-every man in congressional life who has won his spurs in a single effort, and carried captive the laurels of debate, has come out of that great section north of the Ohio, and lying between the Rocky Mountains and the state of Pennsylvania. Read the brilliant list: Bryan of Nebraska; Wolcott of Colorado; Dolliver of Iowa; Cousins of Iowa; Towne of Minnesota; Estabrook of Nebraska; Pence of Colorado; and Bailey of Texas;-each one of these men has gone at a leap, to national prominence, and each one of them, in a single speech, has established a place for himself in the front rank of American statesmanship and oratory. They pack the congressional galleries, and the country hangs upon their utterances. Within this period-with the radiant exception of Henry Grady, a spontaneous and unaccountable genius-not a single young man from the South has instantly caught the ear of the country, or impressed the republic with his intellectual force.

"The real reason for the triumphal march of Western oratory and statesmanship is to be found in the spirit and system which permeates the colleges and inspires the youth of these states. I have spent three years in study of the causes that are wresting oratorical supremacy from the South, and without hesitation or uncertainty, I lay my finger here. From Pennsylvania to the Rockies there is not a reputable college or university that does not give especial emphasis to oratory and elocution. In every one of these institutions there is a chair distinctly set apart for instruction and for development in this great art-not as a side issue, nor as a collateral branch of English -such as we have in Southern universities, where English is taught, once a week or once a month; but in a chair that, ignoring all other departments, devotes itself exclusively to these things, and holds them as important as mathematics, philosophy, or the languages.

"These teachers do not confine themselves to mere declamation,-to tone, gesture, and sound. They teach oratory in the highest sense-by a study of the orators of all ages, by a study of their best orations,

with an analysis of the power, and a consideration of the motive that provoked and the spirit that inspired them. Men are trained according to their style as developed by trial and by imitation of the world's masters of speech. They are trained in body, in voice, in rapid thinking, in every physical and mental quality, and are, above all, developed in character, in naturalness, sincerity, helpfulness, the love of country and the love of all things high and good. The oratory that is taught in the West is not only a fine art, but it is a noble science. It is a training of the soul to feel things deeply and to speak them bravely from the soul.'

The moral for the South is plain and Mr. Graves earnestly advocates Southern adoption of the Western system,-interstate contests and all.

GRUNDY'S MOST SUCCESSFUL PLAY. In "The Greatest of These," Sydney Grundy's latest play, Ibsen's spirit and technique are said to be descernible in every line. The story of the play is summarized as follows in the Literary Digest:

"Mr. and Mrs. Armitage are a middleaged couple united in the eyes of the world, but in spirit miles apart from each other. The woman's escapade is a matter of the past, but the memory of it lives. Armitage has forgiven' his wife, out of the desire to avoid scandal and to convince himself that he is obeying the Christian precept of charity and forgiveness. He is egotistic and self-righteous, and accepts the wife's humble submission and self effacement as a proper tribute to his heroism and generosity. The wife sees the pettiness and narrowness of the husband's spirit, but she lives on sufferance and does her best to accept the situation. This situation is changed by an accident that is a direct outcome of the husband's character. Armitage is an unwise and hard father, and his narrow code drives his son into dissipation and debt. The son forges a bill, and the bill is in the hands of Curzon, Mrs. Armitage's old lover. Mrs. Armitage pays a clandestine visit to Curzon to plead for her son, and learns that he got possession of the bill to save the boy rather than to press it against him. The husband hears of this visit, misconstrues it, and turns his wife out of the house without explanation.

"Armitage afterward discovers the object of the visit, and this, together with other evidences of his hardheartedness and narrow code of duty, suffices to work a moral transformation in him. He sees his egoism and learns the lesson of real charity. The revolution strikes the critics as too sudden to satisfy the requirements of perfect art. But the main object is to put forgiveness on the right basis, to make it sincere and complete."

The difference between the tendency of this play and the moral usually conveyed in such plays is thus pointed out by Arthur Wakeley in Cosmopolis:

"As the situation is usually presented, husband and wife are still in the period of passion. The peculiarity of Mr. Grundy's play is that passion has not a word to say in the matter. We have the permanent forces of character at work. The problem has become spiritualized. I admit the disadvantage from the point of view of dramatic excitement. There is a perceptible lowering of temperature. The husband, wife, and lover are able to argue out their respective cases in a curiously cold-blooded fashionindeed, I think they are all three a little too fond of argument; but then they argue very neatly, for Mr. Grundy has a pretty forensic talent, and it is a real pleasure to find him abandoning his artificial Scribisms for a play of genuine thought."

REQUISITES OF A GOOD CHORUS.

The ideal chorus would be made up of real musicians with good voices and able to read anything at sight in an intelligent and expressive manner. The next best thing is considered in detail by the musical critic of the Springfield Republican. We quote:

"The essentials which can and must be insisted upon are these: (1) A musical ear; (2) a sense of time; (3) a fair training in musical elements; (4) a modicum of voice not necessarily strong, but without any such harsh or strident quality as would be offensive in soft passages; (5) ability and willingness to pay attention and follow the leader.

"This is not a high standard, but there are few choruses that live up to it. The thing that is absolutely indispensable is that each singer have a fair ear for musical pitch, not the razor-edge acuteness of a violinist who is wounded by an infinitesimal deviation, but such sensibility as will make a singer know that he is wrong when his attention is called to it, and enable him in time to rectify the error. Without this, the more voice a singer has the worse it is for the chorus. A sense of time is equally important, though a highly-cultivated feeling for it, such as a player of chamber music requires, is by no means essential, as the rhythms of choral music are, as a rule, simple and massive, and treacherous syncopations are usually avoided. It is not necessary to lay any great emphasis on voice, for in a chorus every little helps-if it is only rightly applied. Even a voice of by no means agreeable quality may serve a good purpose, if its owner has sufficient tact and musical sense to subdue.

"It is a pity there is no way of accepting singers on probation. The greatest drawback to the success of a festival chorus-ask Mr. Zerrahn or Mr. Chadwick if this is not so-is not the incapable singers, but the indifferent ones-those who cut rehearsals, and sit in blank indifference while others do the work, hoping when the time comes to lean on those who have learned the music. A chorus of mediocre singers who practice faithfully, watch the baton with unswerving care, try

to sing every note at a first reading, and make it a point to begin every phrase bravely and clearly, will speedily outclass a chorus of good voices, the possessors of which are supremely indifferent to what is going on. Watch the singers in most choruses-there are honorable exceptions-and you will see that at least a third lean on the rest. When the pitch has been found they come in. Their mouths are shut at the difficult places -the places that determine the rank of a chorus. This preliminary examination is all very well, but we should like to see it supplemented by a somewhat rigorous oversight of the work of the singers. The Hampden County Musical Association has already made a good beginning by dropping members who are too frequently absent. We hope to see the day when it will be possible to supplement this wholesome rule by dropping all who do not pay attention to the conductor, and try to do their work thoroughly."

MAGICIAN HERMANN'S REMARKABLE HANDS.

Following the recent death of Hermann, the great magician, stories of the marvelous physical powers of his hands have been retold. Every muscle in the palms is said to have been trained so that the tiniest and, to most people, undiscovered muscles were at his command. The New York Journal, describing this muscular skill, says:

"His hands were covered with a network of muscles so perfectly developed that he was able to make any particular spot take separate action and do surprising things on its own account. The development of these muscles was the result of nearly forty years of incessant practice, during which the care of those hands was the chief object of Herrmann's life. No work or sport which could in any way harden or distort them was done. One can not be a baseball player and a good magician at the same time. No amusement which could injure the balance of the delicate and innumerable nerves of the hands was indulged in. The hands had an appearance rather of grace than of strength. They were very white and supple, and the fingers long and slender. In fact, they did not have large muscles, for they would have been a hindrance to the practice of magic. The object had been to develop all the muscles of the hand so that they would work together in harmony.

The most prominent characteristic of the magician's palms was the development of the muscles at the bases of the thumb and the forefinger and on the outer side of the palm at the base of the little finger. They extended almost from fingers to wrist. These muscles enabled Hermann to hold objects in his turned-down palm while his hand was stretched out perfectly flat. He could hold an egg in his palm, and an intelligent observer, unused to his powers, would have sworn that it was physically impossible for him to do so. One of his amusing tricks was to lay his hands down flat on a coin and pick it up without changing the position of