nd while there
was the usual stirring march as the piece de resistance, the work as a
whole was less clangorous of the cymbal than the operas of many a
tamer composer. In "Chris and the Wonderful Lamp," an extravaganza,
the chief ensemble was worked up from a previous march, "Hands Across
the Sea."

But Sousa can write other things than marches, and his scoring is full
of variety, freedom, and contrapuntal brilliance.

_Henry Schoenefeld._

[Illustration: HENRY SCHOENEFELD.]

Long before Dvorak discovered America, we aboriginals had been trying
to invent a national musical dialect which should identify us as
completely to the foreigner as our nasal intonation and our fondness
for the correct and venerable use of the word "guess." But Dvorak is
to credit for taking the problem off the shelf, and persuading our
composers to think. I cannot coax myself into the enthusiasm some have
felt for Dvorak's own explorations in darkest Africa. His quartette
(op. 96) and his "New World" symphony are about as full of accent and
infidelity as Mlle. Yvette Guilbert's picturesque efforts to sing in
English. But almost anything is better than the phlegm that says, "The
old ways are good enough for all time;" and the Bohemian missionary
must always hold a place in the chronicle of American music.

A disciple of Dvorak's, both in advance and in retrospect, is Henry
Schoenefeld, who wrote a characteristic suite (op. 15) before the
Dvorakian invasion, and an overture, "In the Sunny South," afterward.
The suite, which has been played frequently abroad, winning the
praises of Hanslick, Nicode, and Rubinstein, is scored for string
orchestra. It opens with an overly reminiscent waltz-tune, and ends
conventionally, but it contains a movement in negro-tone that gives it
importance. In this the strings are abetted by a tambourine, a
triangle, and a gong. It is in march-time, and, after a staccato
prelude, begins with a catchy air taken by the second violins, while
the firsts, divided, fill up the chords. A slower theme follows in the
tonic major; it is a jollificational air, dancing from the first
violins with a bright use of harmonics. Two periods of loud chorale
appear with the gong clanging (to hint a church-bell, perhaps). The
first two themes return and end the picture.

The overture (op. 22) has won the high esteem of A.J. Goodrich, and
it seems to me to be one of the most important of native works, not
because of its nigrescence, b