he upper quarter of the lower tone, pa, the Hindoo musician would not
speak of dha as being flat, but would say instead, "Serveretna has been
introduced to the family of Santa and her sisters."

The Hindoo music of to-day is not as potent as in mythical times. The
people themselves acknowledge the decline of their art, and admit that
even in the last century or two it has deteriorated. As for the
miracle-working Ragas, or improvised songs, the people in Bengal will
say that they can probably be heard in Cashmere, while the inhabitants
of Cashmere will send the inquirer back to Bengal. Woman, too, has a
less important position than of old. "When the ancient sages made our
musical system," says an eminent Brahmin in an interview at San
Francisco, "there were many women among them; but now not one can
accomplish anything in the art."

In the traditions of ancient Egypt, music is entirely under the
patronage of male gods. Thoth, the Egyptian Hermes, invented the lyre by
striking the tendons of a dead tortoise, which had dried and stretched
in the shell. Osiris, too, the chief of the Egyptian gods, protected the
art, although Strabo says music was not allowed in his temple at
Abydos. While travelling in Ethiopia, the story runs, Osiris met a
troupe of revelling satyrs, and, being fond of singing, he admitted them
to his train of musicians. In their midst were nine young maidens,
skilled in music and various sciences, evidently the prototype of the
Grecian Muses. Horus, the son of Osiris (equivalent to the Greek Apollo)
was considered the god of Harmony.

An important mythical character was Maneros, son of the earliest
Egyptian king. He seems to hold the same position as Linus, son of
Apollo, among the Greeks. The first song of Egyptian music was a dirge
for his untimely end, and a lament for the swift passing away of youth,
spring, joy, and so on. Gradually the song itself, instead of the king's
son, began to be called Maneros, and became the well-known banquet song
of the social feasts, calling upon the guests to enjoy life while they
might. In time the song became a symbol of gaiety and merriment instead
of grief.

In most of the ancient civilizations, the songs appear to have been
accompanied by clapping of hands, to mark the rhythm. There were many
actual dances, also, in ancient Egypt, as is fully proven by a number of
the old paintings. Some were like our jigs, break-downs, or clog-dances,
while others consisted of