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 any rate, might be left to their mercies. Mendelssohn, as a symphonist, assuredly should be tendered to their keeping. . . Grieg and Liszt, for the most part. . . Rubinstein, Tchaikovsky, and Massenet. . . a good deal of Saint-Saëns. . . Glazunoff and Elgar, certainly Elgar, if the moving-picture audiences would permit it. There is another field for the Strand Philharmonic Society, for the band of the Academy of Music: the exploitation of the American composer who, one complains, never gets his chance at a hearing. The conductors of these concerts might introduce new music by George W. Chadwick, Henry Hadley, Arthur Farwell, Edgar Stillman Kelley, and Ernest Schelling.

If anything so nearly pleasant as this happens in the musical world (and there are, as I stated at the beginning of this paper, certain indications that it is happening), think of the space there would be on the programs of our august societies for the new music our curious ears are aching to hear! Think of the possible resurrections of works by Mozart, Haydn, and César Franck that one never does hear. Perhaps Debussy's La Mer, Nocturnes, and Images (Ibéria, Gigue, and Rondes de Printemps), all too infrequently performed, would become more familiar. I should like to listen at least once to Albéniz's