a note slighted or blurred. No obscurity or doubt about the most
intricate passage. Curious little effects of _staccato_ mingled with the
most linked together _legato_. Bold flashes through chain lightning
scales. Chords pouring forth in torrents, and then airy scraps of
melody, as if the theme had broken up into shining bits, glistening
drops, and sparkles of song.

An artist soul blooms before us. Her face is rapt, and almost severe. In
a moment it is over, and her features break into a pleasant, natural
smile. Amid the applause she returns to the floor and mingles with the
people. No affectation, no looking for praise; nothing but sweetness and
friendliness. No common-place woman, with brush or needle in hand, could
be more simple and winsome, no genius could be more self-forgetting.

We may now properly close the chapter, and bring this story of an artist
life up to the present time by a brief sketch of a series of classical
concerts given by Madam Urso in the Spring of 1874, in Boston. They
were remarkable concerts; both in the character of the music given, and
in the crowded and appreciative audiences that attended them. As an
expression of Madam Urso's present ability as an artist, we offer the
opinion of the _Boston Daily Advertiser_, our best local critical paper,
and, for the present, bring this story to its logical end. May it be
many years before it becomes necessary to add anything more to it,
except to record her continued success as an artist, and happiness as a
good and true woman.

The _Advertiser's_ criticism upon the first concert of the series we
present in full for the reason that it expresses the critic's opinion of
Madam Urso's general character as a musical _artiste_, directress, and
manager, as well as of her rank and position as a violinist:

"The Horticultural Hall was entirely filled last evening, and
Madam Camilla Urso was welcomed back to Boston with an
enthusiasm evidently as unaffected as it was hearty. The
programme of the concert was singularly choice, but it was
noticeable especially for the contrast which it presented to the
bills of most of our _virtuosi_: in three of its numbers only
did Madam Urso take part, and those three were a trio for
violin, piano, and violoncello, a sonata for violin and piano,
and a string quartette. Disappointment at not hearing the
principal musician in a solo performance may have marred the
pleasure of some