nd even her iron
constitution gave way, and she broke down utterly the moment the
excitement of her journey to Paris was over. For three months she was
confined to her room with brain fever, and only left it when she was
driven out of the city by the events of the Franco-Prussian war. She was
hastily removed from her house on a stretcher, on the 15th of September,
and took one of the last trains that left the city before the siege, and
was carried on her bed to Boulogne. The change was a fortunate one; the
sea air brought a favorable change in her illness, and her health was
restored. In October she was sufficiently recovered to bear the journey
to England, and she took up her residence in London.

The winter of 1870 and '71 was passed in private life, but not by any
means in idleness. It seemed as if she had now won a position in which
she could command her time for study and practice. This great artist,
who had commanded the plaudits of two continents, quietly gave herself
up to renewed study, to more faithful practice, and to still greater
efforts towards perfection in her art. In London she could hear the
greatest players in the world. The finest and most scholarly programmes
were to be heard every week. She had nothing to do but to hear the best
music, study the styles of the masters, catch the splendid inspiration
of their works, and to transfer to her own heart and hand whatever of
the great and fine in music they had to offer to her. It was a winter of
hard work upon her violin, and a season of peace and rest from the
dreadful wear and tear of public artist life, and its fruits may to-day
be seen in the eminence she has attained in the very highest walks of
violin music. The classical concerts that she gave in Boston three years
later testify to the conscientious labor that was bestowed upon her
instrument during this quiet winter in London.

Here do we see the true artist-soul. We here catch the earnest meaning
of Camilla Urso's life--the intense love of music, the devotion to its
highest aims, the eagerness to work, to study and to learn all that is
best and true. Genius, indeed, shines in her music, but without these
years of honest work the genius would only be a delusion and a mockery.
With work it becomes almost divine.

In June of 1871, Madam Urso returned to Paris and spent the summer there
in comparative retirement. She gave no public performances, but held
musical receptions at her own house once a w