all those long years he gave such satisfaction that he never was through with one contract a week till the Government gave him another. He was a perfect pet. And he was always a favorite with his fellow-artists, and was a conspicuous member of their benevolent secret society, called the Chain Gang. He wore his hair short, had a preference for striped clothes, and died lamented by the Government. He was a sore loss to his country, for he was so regular.

Some years later we have the illustrious John Morgan Twain. He came over to this country with Columbus in 1492 as a passenger. He appears to have had a crusty, uncomfortable disposition. He complained of the food all the way over, and was always threatening to go ashore unless there was a change. He wanted fresh shad. Hardly a day passed over his head that he did not go idling about the ship with his nose in the air, sneering about the commander, and saying he did not believe Columbus knew where he was going to or had ever been there before. The memorable cry of "Land ho!" thrilled every heart in the ship but his. He gazed a while through a piece of smoked glass at the penciled line lying on the distant water, and then said: "Land be hanged-it's a raft."

When this questionable passenger came on board the ship, he brought nothing with him but an old newspaper containing a handkerchief marked "B. G."; one cotton sock marked "L. W. C."; one woolen one marked "D. F.," and a night shirt marked "O. M. R." And yet during the voyage he worried more about his "trunk," and gave him. self more airs about it, than all the rest of the passengers put together. If the ship was "down by the head,' and would not steer, he would go and move his "trunk" further aft, and then watch the effect. If the

suggest to Columbus to detail some men to "shift that baggage." In storms he had to be gagged, because his

wailings about his "trunk" made it impossible for the men to hear the orders. The man does not appear to have been openly charged with any gravely unbecoming thing, but it is noted in the ship's log as a "curious circumstance" that albeit he brought his baggage on board the ship in a newspaper, he took it ashore in four trunks, a queensware crate, and a couple of champagne baskets. But when he came back insinuating in an insolent, swaggering way, that some of his things were missing, and was going to search the other passengers' baggage, it was too much, and they threw him overboard. They watched long and wonderingly for him to come up, but not even a bubble arose on the quietly ebbing tide. But while every one was most absorbed in gazing over the side, and the interest was momentarily increasing, it was observed with consternation that the vessel was adrift and the anchor cable hanging limp from the bow. in the ship's dimmed and ancient log we find this quaint note:

Then

"In time it was discouvered yt ye troublesome passenger hadde gonne downe and got ye anchor, and toke ye same and solde it to ye dam sauvages from ye interior, saying yt he hadde founde it, ye sonne of a ghun."

Yet this ancestor had good and noble instincts, and it is with pride that we call to mind the fact that he was the first white person who ever interested himself in the work of elevating and civilizing our Indians. He built a commodious jail and put up a gallows, and to his dying day he claimed with satisfaction that he had had a more restraining and elevating influence on the Indians than any other reformer that ever labored among them. At

less frank and chatty, and closes abruptly by saying that the old voyager went to see his gallows perform on the first white man ever hanged in America, and while there received injuries which terminated in his death.

The great-grandson of the "Reformer" flourished in sixteen hundred and something, and was known in our annals as "the old Admiral,' though in history he had other titles. He was long in command of fleets of swift vessels, well armed and manned, and did great service in hurrying up merchantmen. Vessels which he followed and kept his eagle eye on always made good fair time across the ocean. But if a ship still loitered in spite of all he could do, his indignation would grow till he could contain himself no longer and then he would take that ship home where he lived and keep it there carefully, expecting the owners to come for it, but they never did. And he would try to get the idleness and sloth out of the sailors of that ship by compelling them to take invigorating exercise and a bath. He called it."walking a plank." All the pupils liked All the pupils liked it. At any rate, they never found any fault with it after trying it. When the owners were late coming for their ships, the Admiral always burned them, so that the insurance money should not be lost. At last this fine old tar was cut down in the fullness of his years and honors. And to her dying day, his poor heart-broken widow believed that if he had been cut down fifteen minutes sooner he might have been resuscitated.

Charles Henry Twain lived dur ing the latter part of the seventeenth century, and was a zealous and distinguished missionary. He converted sixteen thousand South Sea Islanders, and taught them that a dog tooth necklace and a pair of spectacles were not enough cloth

His poor flock loved him very, very dearly; and when his funeral was over, they got up in a body (and came out of the restaurant) with tears in their eyes, and saying, one to another, that he was a good tender missionary, and they wished they had some more of him.

Pah go to wah - puketekeewis (Mighty Hunter-with-a-Hog-Eye) Twain adorned the middle of the eighteenth century, and aided General Braddock with all his heart to resist the oppressor Washington. It was this ancestor who fired seventeen times at our Washington from behind a tree. So far the beautiful romantic narrative in the moral story books is correct; but when that narrative goes on to say that at the seventeenth round the awestricken savage said solemnly that that man was being reserved by the Great Spirit for some mighty mission, and he dared not lift his sacrilegious rifle against him again, the narrative seriously impairs the integrity of history. What he did say was:

"It ain't no (hic) use. 'At man's so drunk he can't stan' still long enough for a man to hit him. I (hic). I can't 'ford to fool away any more am'nition on him.”

That was why he stopped at the seventeenth round, and it was a good, plain, matter-of-fact reason, too, and one that easily commends itself to us by the eloquent persuasive flavor of probability there is about it.

I always enjoyed the story-book narrative, but I felt a marring misgiving that every Indian at Braddock's Defeat who fired at a soldier a couple of times (two easily grows to seventeen in a century) and missed him, jumped to the conclusion that the Great Spirit was reserving that soldier for some grand mission; and so I somehow feared that the only reason why Washington's case is remembered and the

BY

Τ

HE love of song is to-day one of the great traits in American character. It is an important omen for the future, as songs are outbursts of optimism and only from an optimistic people can a truly great nation spring forth. As music is one of the important subjects in comtemporary thought, this article will speak somewhat of the technical side of voice culture.

Speech and the ability to read and write are useful to you whether you are fond of talking, reading and writing or not, but if you do not like music it is of no use to you at all. To create and foster love of music should then be the aim of teaching it in our schools, and the literature we use, the manner of developing skill in sight-singing, everything should work toward that end. Furthermore, the way to develop the power to sing is to keep at it. Note the delight of children in their growing skill and strength in mental or bodily exercises; watch a group of well-trained choir boys engaged in singing, fully aware that they are daily improving in

in reading. It shows that practice in singing along correct lines in and of itself begets a love of music.

Now, about the training of the child-like voice in vested choirs and in schools. The choir boy of course has more practice in a week than, as a school boy, he gets in a month. This develops the power and brilliancy of his tone quite rapidly. Boys, however, should not enter upon choir work, as a rule, before the age of ten years, for up to that age, or thereabouts, the voice should be used very lightly. The same rules of management apply to choir singers and to public school singing. Suppose, as a basis for deductions, I call your attention to a few physiological facts.

First, the larynx grows rapidly until the age of six years, when the vocal bands attain the length which they retain until the age of puberty is reached. At that time the general physical changes which take place in the entire person are accompanied by a more or less rapid growth of the larynx, so that the vocal bands of the male become

the vocal bands of females increase

their length one-third. There are, of course, corresponding changes in the thickness, breadth and general strength of the vocal bands. The one point, then, which emphasizes itself to us is the small size and weakness of the vocal bands in childhood.

It is also true that the laryngeal walls, the cartilages of the larynx, are, in childhood, lacking in rigidity, as may be easily understood when we recall the danger of that dread disease, croup, to which all young children are exposed. Death in this disease is occasioned, primarily, by the collapse of the walls of the larynx. Now, as already pointed out, while the vocal bands do not increase in length from six years of age on, to the period of voice mutation, yet there is a constant gain in structural firmness of the laryngeal cartilages, and this, together with the increased elastic power and strength which each year brings to the vocal bands of the children, accounts for the constant gain in the tonal strength of children from the age of six.

Bearing these facts in mind, it is just as easy for one person as for another to deduce a safe rule for the use of the child voice in singing-viz., the voice must be used so lightly that injurious physical strain of the weak and delicate organs is impossible. But here we are confronted by the fact that, however familiar we may be with the physiology of the voice, it is only through experimental knowledge that we are able to determine whether the voice is being strained or not, during singing. In a normal throat, however, if all the parts concerned in tone production are acting in a normal, healthy manner, the resultant tone must be good. In childhood, as in adult life, bad tones, whether nasal, or guttural, or possessing other disagreeable

the result of ill adjustment or wrong action of the functions. In other words, a good tone is healthy, and a bad tone unhealthy, and as the doctor tells by your symptoms the particular disturbance from which you are suffering, so the teacher by the color of the tone must determine the particular disturbance from which the singer is suffering. Having set forth these general premises, we may now consider the child voice practically, and those rules which have been deduced by the experience of specialists in this line.

The trainers of boy choirs in England and on the continent have for years understood and practically carried out good principles in the training of boys' voices. These principles are equally applicable to the voices of girls. They and we to-day speak of a child as possessing two voices. The one is called the chest voice a purely technical name which is applied to a tone rather thick, usually coarse, and which is produced evidently by very full and strong vibrations of the vocal bands. Whenever little children sing loudly, they use this voice, the height of compass to which they may carry this voice depends on several conditions. First, the age of the pupil. A child of six years of age will carry the thick voice as high as "E," fourth space, but, as they grow older, they find more and more difficulty in using this voice in high pitches. Then, again, children who have light, firm, fluty voices, use the chest voice with great difficulty, possibly because there is more firmness in the cartilages of the larynx than is possessed by others whose voices, while sounding stronger, are evidently produced from weaker throats. The loud voice, so commonly known in the schoolroom and so foolishly admired, is really, in most cases, a voice which is pro