what less numerous,
think only while they are writing. But the third class, which is very
small, only write _after_ thinking and because their thoughts clamor
for utterance.

If we apply this classification to music we see at once that
improvising comes under the second head: improvising is thinking or
composing while playing. But the greatest musical ideas are those
which are conceived entirely in the mind, which needs no pen or piano
mechanically to stimulate its creative power. Of this there can be no
question, whatever. With an almost absolute unanimity we find that the
greatest composers conceived their immortal ideas in the open air,
where there was no possibility of coaxing them out of an instrument.
And not only is the bare outline thus composed mentally, but the whole
composition with all its involved harmonies and varied orchestral
colors is present in the composer's mind before he puts it down on
paper. The composition of "Der Freischuetz" affords a remarkable
confirmation of this statement. Weber began to compose this opera
mentally on February 23, but did not write down a single note before
the second of July. That is, he kept the full score of this wonderful
work in his brain for more than four months, and, as his son remarks,
"there is not a number in it which he did not work over ten times in
his mind, until it sounded satisfactory and he could say to himself
'That's it,' and then he wrote it down rapidly without hesitation and
almost without altering a note."

This power of elaborating a musical score in the mind, and hearing it
inwardly, is a gift which unmusical people find it difficult to
comprehend, and which even puzzles many musical people. Yet it is a
power which all students of music ought to possess; and, like other
capacities, it can be easily cultivated and strengthened.

A comparison with two other senses will throw some light on the
matter. Most of us can, by thinking fixedly of some appetizing dish,
recall its flavor sufficiently to start a nerve current and stimulate
the salivary glands. The image of the flavor, so to speak, makes the
mouth water. What do we do when we go to a restaurant and look over
the bill of fare? We simply, on reading the list, recall a faint
gastronomic image, as it were, of each dish, and the one which is most
vivid, owing to the peculiar direction of the appetite, decides our
choice.

The sense of sight presents many curious analogies. Mr. Galton, in his
"I