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Rh greatest and sweetest of them all, now lighted on our shores."

At this point he was interrupted by a boor seated on the pulpit stairs, who shouted out to know if any one who died at Jenny Lind's concert would go to heaven. Taylor's prompt reply was:—

"A Christian will go to heaven wherever he dies, but a fool will be a fool wherever he is—even if he is on the steps of a pulpit."  

The fine arts are, perhaps, in the matter of the time involved, the most difficult of all studies to conquer. One cannot master music or painting by mere force of will; one must, as it were, grow into the chosen art, not jump into it. The reason we have so much poor art, and art that is not art at all, is because there is so much of this jumping attempted.

The proper growth is brought by continuous application, day after day, for years. This is true in all departments of the musical life. Yet it is a truth that seems the most difficult of realization to all but about one-tenth of one per cent, of the people generally.

Every teacher finds that the majority of his pupils expect to play the piano or violin well in a year; and as to singing, why, Lord bless you, they expect to give concerts in half that time. All this is not so much the fault of the individual pupil as it is a general misapprehension of the depth of art and of the difficulties that beset the student's path. To express the whole matter in a few words, the public ideal is a low one. We do not aspire to play or sing well, i. e., artistically; we simply desire to sing or play; if it be in a very ordinary or slovenly manner, that does not matter.

Not all can have the talent, time, money, and health necessary to make a great artist. But all may do well what they set out to do, A simple thing well done is