rther even than
Prout. He has gone to melody as the groundwork of his harmonic system,
and to the practice of great masters, old and new, for the tests of
all his theories. The result is a book which can be unreservedly
commended for self-instruction to the ignorant and to the too learned.
It is to be followed by a book on "Synthetic Counterpoint," of which
Goodrich says, "It is almost totally at variance with the standard
books in counterpoint."

In his "Musical Analysis" he quoted freely from American composers,
and analyzed many important native works. He has carried out this plan
also in his book on "Interpretation," a work aiming to bring more
definiteness into the fields of performance and terminology.

Goodrich' composition is "a thing of the past," he says. In his youth
he wrote a score or more of fugues, two string quartettes, a trio that
was played in New York and Chicago, a sonata, two concert overtures, a
hymn for soprano (in English), invisible chorus (in Latin), and
orchestra, a volume of songs, and numerous piano pieces. He writes:
"In truth, I believed at one time that I was a real composer, but
after listening to Tschaikowski's Fifth Symphony that illusion was
dispelled. Had not Mrs. Goodrich rescued from the flames a few MSS. I
would have destroyed every note."

Only a piano suite is left, and this leads one to regret that
Tschaikowski should have served as a deterrent instead of an
inspiration. The suite has an inelaborate prelude, which begins
strongly and ends gracefully, showing unusual handling throughout. A
minuet, taken scherzando, is also most original and happy. There is a
quaint sarabande, and a gavotte written on simple lines, but superbly.
Its musette is simply captivating. All these little pieces indeed show
sterling originality and unusual resources in a small compass.

W.H. Neidlinger's first three songs were kept in his desk for a year
and then kept by a publisher for a year longer, and finally brought
out in 1889. To his great surprise, the "Serenade," which he calls
"just a little bit of commonplace melody," had an immense sale and
created a demand for more of his work. The absolute simplicity of this
exquisite gem is misleading. It is not cheap in its lack of ornament,
but it eminently deserves that high-praising epithet (so pitilessly
abused), "chaste." It has the daintiness and minute completeness of a
Tanagra figurine.

Mr. Neidlinger was born in Brooklyn, N.Y., in 1863, and