many discreet judges that it is doubtless true. But when alleged
admirers of the young singer tack on all sorts of trimmings, such
as that Madame Melba wept with joy upon hearing her, and that
Madame Nordica said, "This is the voice of which I have dreamed,"
and that Miss Emma Thursby refused to be comforted until Miss
Farrar consented to come and live with her, it is about time to
add, "and then she woke up."

Why not confine the stories to simple facts; that she has a
remarkable voice, almost phenomenal in one of her age, which is
true; that her concert successes have been extraordinary; and that,
if youthful evidences hold good, she will some day assume an
enviable position in grand opera? Isn't that quite enough praise
without subjecting Melba to tears, disturbing Nordica's dreams, or
suggesting the impossibility of comforting Miss Thursby? Miss
Farrar is a handsome, gifted, and very earnest young girl, and if
she has common sense as well as native talent, she will say that
little nightly prayer, turn a deaf ear to the adulation of foolish
friends, and attend strictly to practicing her scales. Then some
day, perhaps very soon, this Boston girl will be electrifying
metropolitan audiences as Mlle. Farrarini, the latest operatic
comet.

I was almost in tears when I read this article, tempered with kindness
as it was, for the stories about Melba and Nordica had been the results
of the feverish imagination of newspaper reporters who had exaggerated
the truth. But the musical critic of the "Herald," who penned this
prophetic and caustic comment, really did me a great service--and I
thank him--for from that moment I determined upon a policy of seclusion
and self-effacement; my pursuit for glory should be conducted along the
lines of modesty and restraint.

Alas for the miscarriage of such good intentions! Seclusion and
self-effacement have hardly been synonymous with my euphonious name!

CHAPTER VI

PARIS

The time was now rapidly approaching which was to be the turning point
of my career--a trip to Europe. Up to this time I had accomplished
practically all that I could hope for in America. I had studied under
the best teachers in Boston and in New York. I knew much of the grand
opera repertoire. I had sung in concerts and recitals. I had just turned
seventeen. The necessary training for a grand-opera career w