HE breath is the generator and

THE

the supporter of every tone, whether in speech or in song. The muscle that plays the most important part in breathing is the diaphragm, situated between the cavity of the chest and the abdomen. By the use of this muscle the breath is regulated and controlled. The breath taken in the act of singing should be taken low and without fear or anxiety. The lower part of the lungs should be allowed to expand first, the chestmuscles should be held firmly but not rigidly. As an aid to developing the full capacity of the chest, I use the following exercise. Example: Cultivate deep breathing for months, and you will discover that you have greatly developed the capacity of the chest and the lungs, in fact, your whole being. There will be a noticeable larger expansion and the diaphragm will have become stronger and more tense. If you wish to know whether or not you breathe correctly, lie flat upon your back with the head as low as the rest of the body. Does a tired animal, when taking a long-drawn breath, expand at the chest or at the flanks? Care must be taken, too, that the lungs be well filled.

I advocate the practice of sustained tones, commenced with the first lesson, and then gradually leading to more rapid passages as fast as the vocal organs can be made to adjust themselves properly. It is just here that teacher and pupil must exercise the utmost care and patience.

Every tone should be considered and should be characterized by a rich, round, sonorous, and musical quality, placed well to the front of the mouth, kept there and ended there, the throat being well opened and kept in a restful and passive state. In the practice of sustained tones, I begin with the pure Italian vowel a (ah). When the vocal organs become well adjusted to the use of this vowel, I then use (a), i (e), and u (00) I sometimes change this order as circumstances seem to require. Pupils do not use the same vowels with the same degree of success, but care

must be taken that the voice be well formed upon every element of our language.

I am certain that when a pupil can make right use of the vowel a (ah) and preserve it, no fear of the other vowels need be apprehended. I insist upon the daily practice of sustained tones, paying careful attention to crescendo and to diminuendo. I usually begin at C, first line below the staff, with ladies' voices, sometimes as high as F, first space; with gentlemen at C, second space bass staff, sometimes higher with tenor voices and as low as B flat with bass voices; but in all cases I try to select a convenient tone to sing. I ascend the scale by half steps and go no further than F, last line, with ladies' and tenor voices, and to D with baritone and bass voices. This, understand, is at an early stage of progress. This exercise I hear at every lesson for several terms, or at least one year.

While correct breathing lies at the foundation of a good tone, I am convinced, not only by my own experience as a pupil, but also by long experience as a teacher, that it is far better to direct the mind of the pupil to the tone to be produced by concentrating the thought there; the means by which the tone is controlled and governed will be more likely to fulfil its proper function.

The tone should be formed at once and without hesitation. If the pupil has difficulty in bringing the tone forward with the vowel a (ah), I resort to other expedients, such as the syllables, tha, va, wa, za, etc. The vibrating column of air must be brought forward full, free, and unhindered.

Many faults arise from an improper position of the tongue. If the tongue be unusually large or thick, as is often the case, the pupil should learn to form a groove or furrow through from the tip to the base. I require my pupils to practice much with the hand-mirror held before them in such a manner that the position of the tongue can be readily seen. Pupils must learn how to "hold their tongues."

Bu

UFFON has said: "Le style est l'homme même "-the style is the man himself-and by no writer is this truism better illustrated than by Eugene Field, the master of childverse. Sincerity, guilelessness, gentleness; a nature quick to recognize and sympathize with the heart-throbs of his fellows; an overweening love of young life; these were the attributes of Eugene Field in life, and these are the characteristics that stand out in bold relief on every page. The incessant bustle and worry of twenty years of newspaper life and the struggle to earn a livelihood for himself and his family were not sufficient to dampen the freshness of his frank, genial, joyous disposition.

So mixed in him that Nature might stand up And say to all the world, This was a man!'"

The events in Field's life-his birth at St. Louis in 1850; his education at Williams, Knox, Amherst, and Missouri State universities; his connection with the St. Louis Journal, Kansas City Times, Denver Tribune, and Chicago News; and his rise in journalism-were sufficiently commented upon at the time of his unfortunate death a little over a year ago to require special mention now. Let us rather turn our attention to a consideration of his works, noting in passing one or two anecdotes typical of the poet's nature.

When Field was about twenty-one, he endeavored to make an entrée into journalism. He thus humorously recounts his experience:

an

"I went down, and I brought most of my critical acumen to bear upon actor by the name of Charley Pope, who was playing Mercutio for Mrs. D. P. Bowers. His wig didn't fit, and all my best writing centred about that wig. I sent the critique in, blame fine, as I thought, with illuminated initial letters, and all that. Oh, it was lovely! Next morning I was deeply pained and disgusted to find it mutilated,-all that about the wig, the choicest part, was cut out. I thought I'd quit journalism forever. I don't suppose Hutchins connects Eugene Field with the fool that wrote that critique. I don't myself."

Soon after this incident Field, his father and mother being dead, fell heir to $60,000, and he immediately embarked for Europe, taking with him a boon companion of his own age. Two unsophisticated youths, no guardians, and $60,000 were truly a happy and consistent combination. The two remained abroad a couple of years, indulging in the fascinations of Continental life, and when Field returned to St. Louis his inherited fortune was rapidly being enveloped in the haziness of the past.

Thus thrown upon his own re

St. Louis Journal, on which he rose to the dignity of city editor. Then he resigned to become city editor of a journal published in St. Joseph, Mo., but in 1877 returned to the Journal as a writer of editorial paragraphs. In this paper appeared Field's first poem, "Christmas Treasures," a pathetic, retrospective little sketch, written to fill out an empty column. "The Little Peach," written for the Kansas City Times, was his next effort. This has proved one of the most popular of Field's pieces. It has been parodied all over the land, and set to music, and usually forms a most taking encore in the repertoire of every college glee-club. Then came the Denver Tribune Primer, a burlesque series now entirely out of print, and "The Wanderer," a poem that Field in a spirit of pleasantry credited to Modjeska, the

actress.

While in St. Louis, Field made the acquaintance of Clara Louise Kellogg, the prima donna, in a rather unique way. Miss Kellogg was at that time at the height of her glory. One day Field called at the hotel where she was stopping, and sent up his card. The prima donna's mother responded, and politely informed Mr. Field that her daughter could not be seen. Field replied that he came not as a reporter but as an amateur actor. Thereupon he seated himself at the piano and sang several ballads, which so charmed the old lady that she sent for Miss Kellogg, and a pleasant afternoon of music followed. After that whenever Miss Kellogg was in town the poet never failed to call upon her, and renew the acquaintance so curiously begun, and which eventually culminated in the sincerest friendship.

In 1883, Field became connected with the Chicago News, where was begun that celebrated "Sharps and Sharps and Flats" column in which much of the poet's most pretentious work has ap

peared. Field's connection with the News continued until his death, Nov., 1895. Field was then at work on "The Love-Affairs of a Bibliomaniac," a discourse on the pleasures of reading and of owning books. In an introduction to "The LoveAffairs," which was published after the poet's death, Roswell Martin. Field, his brother, says: "During the afternoon of Saturday, Nov. 2, the nineteenth instalment of The Love-Affairs' was written. It was the conclusion of his literary life. He was at that time apparently quite as well as on any day during the fall months, and neither he nor any member of his family had the slightest premonition that death was hovering about the household. The next day he spoke of the chapter he had written the day before, and it was then that he outlined his plan of completing the work. One chapter only remained to be written, and it was to chronicle the death of the old bibliomaniac. In the early morning of Nov. 4 the soul of Eugene Field passed upward. On the table, folded and sealed, were the memoirs of the old man upon whom the sentence of death had been pronounced. On the bed in the corner of the room, with one arm thrown over his breast, and the smile of peace and rest on his tranquil face, the poet lay. All around him, on the shelves and in the cases, were the books he loved so well. Ah, who shall say that on that morning his fancy was not verified, and that as the gray light came reverently through the window, those cherished volumes did not bestir themselves, awaiting the cheery voice: 'Good day to you, my sweet friends. How lovingly they beam upon me, and how glad they are that my rest has been unbroken.'"

During his literary career Field produced eleven volumes-including his posthumous works-and all were issued during a space of six or seven