dits of the crowd for the
artist and watch him return to bow his thanks, but I mentally demand
that these little acrobats, each resting on an individual pedestal, and
weary from his efforts, shall appear to receive a share of the applause.

"When I listen to a great singer," continued this world-defying
skeptic, "trilling like a thrush, scampering over the scales, I see a
clumsy lot of ah, ah, ahs, awkwardly, uncertainly ambling up the gamut,
saying, 'were it not for us she could not sing thus--give us our meed
of praise.'"

Slowly he replied: "Masters have written in wondrous language and
masters have played with wondrous power."

"And I so long to hear," she said, almost plaintively. "I marvel at the
invention of the composer and the skill of the player, but there I
cease."

He looked at her intently. She was standing before him, not a block of
chiseled ice, but a beautiful, breathing woman. He offered her his arm
and together they made their way to the drawing-room.

"Perhaps, some day, one will come who can sing a song of perfect love
in perfect tones, and your soul will be attuned to his melody."

"Perhaps--and good-night," she softly said, leaving his arm and joining
her friends, who accompanied her to the carriage.

II

The intangible something that places the stamp of popular approval on
one musical enterprise, while another equally artistic and as cleverly
managed languishes in a condition of unendorsed greatness, remains one
of the unsolved mysteries.

When a worker in the vineyard of music or the drama offers his choicest
tokay to the public, that fickle coquette may turn to the more ordinary
and less succulent concord. And the worker and the public itself know
not why.

It is true, Diotti's fame had preceded him, but fame has preceded
others and has not always been proof against financial disaster. All
this preliminary,--and it is but necessary to recall that on the
evening of December the twelfth Diotti made his initial bow in New
York, to an audience that completely filled every available space in
the Academy of Music--a representative audience, distinguished alike
for beauty, wealth and discernment.

When the violinist appeared for his solo, he quietly acknowledged the
cordial reception of the audience, and immediately proceeded with the
business of the evening. At a slight nod from him the conductor rapped
attention, then launched the orchestra into the introduction of the
concerto,