Sousa, it
is not possible to mention many here. Though some of the names are not
happily chosen, they call up many episodes of parade gaiety and
jauntiness, or warlike fire. The "Liberty Bell," "Directorate," "High
School Cadets," "King Cotton," "Manhattan Beach," "'Sound Off!'"
"Washington Post," "Picador," and others, are all stirring works; his
best, I think, is a deeply patriotic march, "The Stars and Stripes
Forever." The second part of this has some brass work of particular
originality and vim.

In manuscript are a few works of larger form: a symphonic poem, "The
Chariot Race," an historical scene, "Sheridan's Ride," and two suites,
"Three Quotations" and "The Last Days of Pompeii."

The "Three Quotations" are:

(_a_) "The King of France, with twenty thousand men,
Marched up a hill and then marched down again,"

which is the motive for a delightful scherzo-march of much humor in
instrumentation;

(_b_) "And I, too, was born in Arcadia,"

which is a pastorale with delicious touches of extreme delicacy;

(_c_) "In Darkest Africa,"

which has a stunning beginning and is a stirring grotesque in the
negro manner Dvorak advised Americans to cultivate. All three are well
arranged for the piano.

The second suite is based on "The Last Days of Pompeii." It opens with
a drunken revel, "In the House of Burbo and Stratonice;" the bulky
brutishness of the gladiators clamoring for wine, a jolly
drinking-song, and a dance by a jingling clown make up a superbly
written number. The second movement is named "Nydia," and represents
the pathetic reveries of the blind girl; it is tender and quiet
throughout.

The third movement is at once daring and masterly. It boldly attacks
"The Destruction," and attains real heights of graphic suggestion. A
long, almost inaudible roll on the drums, with occasional thuds,
heralds the coming of the earthquake; subterranean rumblings, sharp
rushes of tremor, toppling stones, and wild panic are insinuated
vividly, with no cheap attempts at actual imitation. The roaring of
the terrified lion is heard, and, best touch of all, under the fury of
the scene persists the calm chant of the Nazarenes, written in one of
the ancient modes. The rout gives way to the sea-voyage of Glaucus and
Ione, and Nydia's swan-song dies away in the gentle splash of ripples.
The work is altogether one of superb imagination and scholarly
achievement.

Sousa, appealing as he does to an audie