least musical may love and remember without painful effort. It is to these, perhaps, and to the splendors of its scenic presentation that "Turandot" will owe what will, I fear, be only a fleeting vogue.

THE

HE plot, based on a fairy play by Gozzi, long prominent in Venice during the eighteenth century, has in it the makings of an operatic fantasy. But it is badly put together by the librettists, G. Adami and R. Simoni. Twice-once at the opening of the second act and again in the third act-the chief story is forgotten altogether, to allow the development of subsidiary incidents.

In brief, the libretto deals with the adventure of a romantic prince, one Calaf, who is so smitten at first sight in Peking by the beauty of the man-hating Princess Turandot that he risks his life to win her, like a young Persian prince and many more before him, by venturing to find solutions of three riddleswhich, by the by, seem far more easy than most cross-word puzzles. He hits on the right answers. But his Turandot plays false. She tries to evade the fulfillment of her promise. Calaf, who is chivalrous, offers to release her if she can guess his name, and then quite fool

ishly betrays himself, after a poor female slave, one Liu, has killed herself rather than reveal his identity. In an rather than reveal his identity. In an amorous brain-storm he then kisses Turandot, and she learns to love him. So all ends happily, in the good way of fairy tales.

ΟΝ

N the Prince Calaf, a tenor, on a trio of comedians (Ping, Pang, and Pong), and on the chorus rest the chief burden of the singing. Were it not for the magnificence of her raiment, the most sumptuous seen for years at the Metropolitan, the Princess would in a vocal way have quite a minor rôle. The Prince's music was sung clearly and with the required force and volume by LauriVolpi, whose acting defied sense and plausibility. Mr. Lauri-Volpi turned his back on the imperial throne and the Princess at times to address himself to the audience. In the China of the period he would doubtless, for this crime, have been beheaded.

produced soprano of Maria Jeritza, is of the dramatic kind. I observe that, according to some critics, the interest of the opera centered in the achievements of this much-praised artist. I had not noticed this.

On the other hand, with curious want of attention, the same critics slighted the quite admirable acting and agreeable singing of the Liu-Martha Attwooda Californian and a débutante at the Metropolitan, who has sung leading parts (largely at her own expense) in Italy. Miss Attwood has a fair soprano voice, well trained and flexible, a sympathetic and attractive stage presence, and unusual intelligence. She made the most of two big opportunities allowed her.

De Luca, an old stager, was at ease in the music of the loquacious Ping, and Pavel Ludokar, a new basso, acquitted himself creditably as the father of Prince Calaf.

OR

first act, and in the last has to stand motionless and neglected for ten minutes, while faithful Liu repeats something like the death tragedy of Cio-cioMost of her music, which proved trying to the not very beguiling or well

san.

first performance of "Turandot" much credit went to the chorus master, M. Setti; to the conductor, Maestro Serafin, and his orchestra; and to Mr. Urban, who had designed the effective and, in spots, imaginative scenery.

and appropriate than that showing the moon-lit gardens of the palace, have

W

But it takes more than scenes and costumes to make operas which will live and prosper.

HEN, in 1920, Senator Nugent, of Idaho, introduced into the Senate and Congressman Addison T. Smith into the House a bill asking for permission to construct a reservoir in the Bechler Meadows, in the southwest corner of the Yellowstone National Park, the American Civic Association made plain its opposition to any infringement upon National Park property for the benefit of local and commercial interests. At that time it was my privilege to be Executive Secretary of the Association and to organize the opposition which was then successful in preventing the passage of the bill in the House of Representatives. The opposition of the Association was based firmly upon the principle involved that the National Parks are set aside to preserve "scenic attractions and natural wonders and beauties distinctly National in interest, and provide unique

recreational features for the enjoyment of all the people of the United States;" of all the people of the United States;" that no local or commercial use whatever should counterbalance the rights of the Nation in these parks.

the effort to withdraw the Bechler section of the Park from the Yellowstone National Park confines the bill was not reported out of committee in the first session of the Sixty-ninth Congress. The various organizations lined up in opposition to the project of the Idaho irvigation interests are fully aware that the matter must be fought out in the second session of Congress, convening in December, 1926.

In the winter of 1925 and 1926 another effort was made to make a breach in the Park. This was an attempt by in the Park. This was an attempt by Congressman Smith and Senator Gooding, of Idaho, not to put a reservoir into the Park, but to have withdrawn from the Yellowstone National Park this particular section in order that it might be used for a reservoir. This effort was made in connection with the bill for the changing of the boundaries of the Yellowstone based on a report of the Coordinating Committee of the National Park Service and the National Forest Service, but was definitely disapproved by the committee making the survey for the changed boundary-lines. Because of the controversy developing as a result of

asked to go to the Yellowstone and see the particular section which it is proposed by Mr. Smith's project to flood, I complied with the request with a great deal of interest, as I was very anxious to see the nature and extent of what Mr. Smith calls, "a mere swampy meadow, in which neither man nor beast could exist during the summer months." It was my good fortune to enter the

gling of the elk and the call of the when at seven o'clock we broke camp coyotes. and rode by easy stages over a beaten trail into Old Faithful.

N reviewing the two efforts made by the Idaho irrigation interests during the period between 1920 and 1926 I cannot believe that the proponents of the reservoir will "get away" with the description of the Bechler region as "a mere swampy meadow with no outstanding scenic features, in which neither man nor beast could exist." We camped there for a full day and night, riding over a great extent of the meadows and into the foothills. The ground is comfortable for camping, dry to the point of being dusty when our little cavalcade galloped across it, and with innumerable wooded camp sites accessible to water for man and beast. We had fresh fish from the Bechler River for dinner and breakfast, and, to our keen delight, saw bands of elk feeding in distant parts of the meadows.

On the second day of our trip we broke camp early and took the trail into Bechler Canyon, following the course of the stream until the walls of the canyon were overhanging, on up past innumerable unnamed falls and rushing cascades, stopping to make mental pictures of Ouzel Falls, Iris Falls, Colonnade Falls, Wahhi Falls, Tendoy Falls, and many others, until we arrived at Three River Junction, a cup in the hills broken here and there with warm springs, giving a gratifying relief from the chill of the September day. Packs and saddles were taken off and man and beast rested for an hour. After luncheon four miles of steady unbroken climbing brought us to a high mountain meadow, where we pitched camp beside one of the forks of the Bechler River. The fishing here was not so good as down in the lower meadows, and our camp-fire supper was restricted to commissary food. We covered that day fifteen miles of rough In my subsequent trip through the mountain trail through unbroken wilder- center of the Park I was more and more ness. As I went to sleep that night on impressed with the value of the Bechler the high grassy plateau the wonderful Meadows to the Park as a whole. From feeling of being out at night in the wil- a purely scenic standpoint, even were the derness took hold of me and brought meadows withdrawn from the Park for home to my city-spoiled mind the over- reservoir purposes, they could not be whelming greatness of nature unspoiled withdrawn from the landscape of the by man. park. A boundary-line drawn along the Winter was in the air next morning edge of the reservoir, cutting it out of the

J

ACK MINER, over in Kingston, Ontario, runs a caravansary for migratory fowl of the air corresponding a little to the hotel for all known breeds of monkeys that Madame Abreu keeps in the hoopskirts of Ha

vana.

Miner's place, however, is the more inspiring of the two-though both are conducted on similar philosophies of life and related evidences of faith in biology-because no restraints are placed upon his guests. There's bird food in his marshy environs, more food sprinkled hospitably round his shack; tribes of his own domesticated fowl live there and sing; and in the heart of Miner there's a welcome of the kind that birds know well. By flocks they come and go, the skies of Ontario are alive with their passing, while the air over a human habitation in Kingston thrills with the susurrus of their wings. Jack Miner says:

By GEORGE MARVIN

""Tisn't birds and beasts that are wild. It's people."

Through its shifting bituminous canopy Miner's bird friends, on their migrations north and south, look calmly down on the motor metropolis of Detroit, while up to their clearer heaven ascend odors of sacrifice on smoking altars of speed. Maybe from their point of view fairer values are discernible than those of perspectives along the ground. Something like a bird's detachment is needed to draw conclusions from bird's-eye surveys of material facts. From a point outside the atmosphere that stands up, thick as soft-coal smoke, over promotings, and advertisings, and developings, and sellings, and realizings, the relative significance of things may with justice appear. Such a point of view, once imaginatively achieved, gives fresh force to Jack Miner's words. If the argot of war,

Park, would be invisible to the eye of the visitor who views the park with a feeling of pride in his ownership. The Bechler Meadows are an indispensable part of the picture. Withdraw them from the Park for reservoir purposes, and a rare bit of unspoiled wilderness will be destroyed, as well as an ideal camp site for the man or woman who desires recreation in the great open spaces.

Let me sum up briefly the impression made upon me by the Bechler Meadows section. It has a rare beauty, with its reaches of meadow-land giving a sense of vast space, dotted at intervals with groves of pine and aspen and broken by the winding course of the Bechler River; on three sides framed by wooded hills and rocky cliffs, and at the far end the great ragged peaks of the Teton Mountains. This masterpiece of nature without the meadows in the foreground would be an incomplete picture, as without the Tetons in the background it would lose its breath-taking grandeur. As a reserve for the future expansion of camping in the Park the meadows seem invaluable. In my six days I saw no other section which offered such facilities for the man or woman or family seeking to spend a few days of quiet and peace away from the honk and fumes of automobiles, the noise and smoke of trains, and the hue and cry of the typical tourist.

smelted in years of hot passion, asks at the end, "What price glory?" may not an argot of peace, assayed from cool commercialism, inquire, "What price this thing called 'civilization'?" Where, after all, is the ultimate wildness?

In Detroit civilization is transportation, motorized transportation on the ground and over the water actually, prophetically in the air. Motor cars, motor boats, motor birds, motormenthat's Detroit. It was dedicated from the very start when the Sieur Antoine de la Mothe Cadillac landed here with a hundred French-Canadian adventurers and fur-traders in 1701. He gave his settlement the French name for the river-strait joining Lake Erie to Lake St. Clair, and he bequeathed his own surname to one of the largest "plants" that have combined to make Detroit the fourth most populous city in the United