with energy and optimism, dextrous to a remarkable
degree in the mechanism of composition. His scoring is mature,
fervent, and certain. His symphony is legitimately programmatic and
alive with brains, biceps, and blood,--all three,--the three great B's
of composition.

Hadley was born at Somerville, Mass., in 1871. His father was a
teacher of music and gave him immediate advantages. He studied harmony
with Stephen A. Emery, counterpoint with G.W. Chadwick, and the
violin with Henry Heindl and Charles N. Allen of Boston. Before
attaining his majority, he had completed a dramatic overture, a string
quartette, a trio, and many songs and choruses. In 1894 he went to
Vienna and studied composition with Mandyczewski. Here he composed his
third suite for the orchestra. In 1896 he returned to America and took
charge of the music department of St. Paul's school at Garden City,
L.I. He has had some experience as a conductor and has been very
prolific in composition. His first symphony was produced under the
direction of Anton Seidl, in December, 1897; and at a concert of his
own compositions, again, in January, 1900, Hadley conducted this
symphony, and also two movements from his second symphony, "The
Seasons." These two movements show a mellower technic, perhaps, but
are less vital. He has written three ballet suites with pronounced
success, the work being musical and yet full of the ecstasy of the
dance. His third ballet suite, which is the best, was produced at a
concert of the American Symphony Orchestra, under Sam Franko.

The existence of a festival march, a concert overture, "Hector and
Andromache," two comic operas, and six songs for chorus and orchestra,
besides a number of part songs and piano pieces, and over one hundred
songs, forty of which are published, gives proof of the restless
energy of the man. The high average of scholarship is a proof of his
right to serious acceptance.

A cantata for orchestra, "Lelewala," a legend of Niagara, is published
for piano accompaniment. Now, Niagara is a dangerous subject for the
frail skiffs of rhyme, prose, or music to launch out upon. Barrel
staves may carry one through the whirlpool, but music staves cannot
stand the stress. Of all the comments upon the Falls of Niagara that I
have ever read, or heard of, there has been only one that seemed
anything but ridiculously inappropriate; that one was the tribute of a
young boy who, on standing face to face with the falls, simply