y to the heart."--_Autobiography of
Benvenuto Cellini._[4]

The only true way to learn is by doing. The skill of the hand and the
skill of the thought can be brought out only by use. We shall not
become very skilful, nor very learned, nor very good unless we daily
devote ourselves to tasks--often difficult and unpleasant--which shall
bring to us wisdom, or success, or goodness. None of these things, nor
any other like them, come merely by talking about them. That is the
worst way of all--merely to talk and not to act. But if we talk
truthfully and act with care, we shall gain a great deal. Pleasant
companionship often brings forth thoughts which if we follow them
industriously, lead a long way in a good direction.

I do not know that any one has likened music to a country. But we can
make the comparison, and then it becomes plain that we may either
wander through it, seeing the beautiful things, wondering about them,
and talking over our admiration and our wonder; or we may join to this
a true and an earnest inquiry, which shall give us, as a reward, the
clear understanding of some things which we see. Let us travel in this
way; first, because we shall gain true knowledge by it, but better
still, because we shall thereby learn _in the first days_ that the
truest pleasures and the dearest happinesses are those for which we
have done something; those for which we have given both of labor and
of pains.

One of the wisest little philosophers in the world was Polissena,[5]
and I think she became wise just because she labored. As we become
more and more acquainted with true music we shall learn this: True
music is that which is born in some one's heart. "All immortal writers
speak out of the heart."[6] Nothing could be truer; and as they speak
_out_ of their hearts you may be sure they intend to speak _into_
ours. Nowhere else. As true music is made in some one's heart, we must
feel it in our own hearts as we play it or it will mean nothing. The
heart must make it warm, then the beauties of the music will come out.
It is strange how our moods tell themselves. All we do with our eyes
and with our ears, with the tongue and with the hands, what we do with
our thoughts even, is sure to say of itself whether we are doing with
a willing heart or not. It is curious that the truth will come out of
whatever seems to be a secret, but curious as it may be, it does come
out. We must think of that.

Every one of us knows the differ