imity to the painting, so that the admiring throngs might have an opportunity of judging the accuracy of the depiction. I say to my regret, because I knew that of course I shouldn't be there to witness the tableau. I knew I should be far off on some other ramble.

I asked the young girl in fancy costume (whom I afterward learned was the accomplished Lillian George) what was meant by this offer of portraitpainting. She smiled in a most fetching manner and explained how one paid a dollar a share (a share being equivalent to a chance) and then waited breathlessly to see whether or not the lucky number was drawn. If one drew the lucky number which, by the way, I never could do then one might choose which artist should paint his or her portrait. "Which artist?" I repeated. "Which of whom and how many?"

The pretty girl in costume laughed. "There are five," she returned, "from whom you may select. The Prince Troubetskoy is one. And the others are John de Costa, Percy Muncy, Emil Fuchs, and Perryhn Stanlaw."

But I

It sounded quite wonderful. did not invest in a share of this stock. I am never lucky in the matter of shares. Once upon a time I lived on strawberries in Winter and had a motor to match every gown. But I ventured into Wall Street, and since then I have been working my head off to get enough plain bread and cheese to keep body and soul together. I may still indulge in my occasional chocolate-especially when it is insinuated so irresistibly as the French know how to insinuate it but I absolutely draw the line of flinging away money on shares. I'm simply unlucky. However, I must hurry on.

Farther along, the avenue turned, and just at the turn I came to a very spacious booth, above which was a sign which advised one the women representing the authors and artists of America and elsewhere held forth there. And now, for the first time it occurred to me that

Marion Cox had said something over the 'phone about authors and artists, and. hastening forward, I demanded of the first lady I spied where I might find her I sought, and whether she was indeed a personage connected with this splendid emporium where so much of interest was displayed.

The woman to whom I put this question was Mrs. Robert Graham, a very handsome and gracious individual, who would intersperse her talk with invitations addressed to the passing publicinvitations to draw nigh and examine the glorious bargains, all autographed!

From Mrs. Graham I learned how hard the women have been working, for weeks back, to make the bazaar a success to make, in particular, the Authors and Artists booth a success. She told me, speaking all the while in a most enthusiastic manner, what a great success yesterday had been.

"It was Versailles Day," she said. "We raffled off a stunning Jean and André costume, and cleared five hundred dollars. No, we don't raffle off costumes every day, but every day has a special significance. significance. Today, for instance, is Shakespeare Day. See that bronze statue of the Bard over there? Yes, just be yond the gentlemen who are handling that precious vellum volume worth two hundred and fifty dollars. It ought to b in a glass case-not Shakespeare, but the vellum. There really won't be anything left of it at this rate. And Julia Mar lowe and E. H. Sothern have promise to be here later on this evening. Yes they are going to sit at a table, and auto graph anything anyone wants. aut graphed. I do hope they will come. Herbert Tree was coming, but I hea he's now far out on the Atlantic, head for London. Yes, it's a pity. But we' counting on the Sotherns."

S

She looked anxiously down the g avenue toward the great gate bevor which my tricolor lady was once mo singing the Marseillais.

"And tomorrow?" I suggested.

"Ah, tomorrow," she brightened, coming back to me. "Tomorrow is Authors' Day. It's to be exclusively in charge of Mrs. Lewis Woodruff and Mrs. Cox." "Aha!" I thought. "Now I have come to the proper milieu. And she's here, I presume?" I added. "Who?"

"Marion Cox. I've been looking for her everywhere."

"No, she isn't here this evening. We thought she would be here, but you know she's been working terribly hard-day and night. I think she just felt she must squeeze in a little rest somehow. morrow night, though-"

To

Ah, tomorrow night! No doubt I had myself come on the wrong night. To be sure. Hadn't she explicitly stated that she would be at the Palace tomorrow night and not tonight? Oh, dear. Such a scatterbrain I am! Ah, well, one mustn't complain if one's rambles don't turn out always just as one expects. There was nothing for it, I decided, but, after letting a reasonable period of time go by, and of course after sending a note of apology, to call up again and make a brand new appointment. Alas, had I come tomorrow night in the first place, I might have found her whom I sought and also revelled in the spectacle of Mrs. Chandler's little son standing beside the Prince Troubetskoy likeness. Ah, well, I concluded, by way of consolation, it's just possible the remarkable lady wouldn't be singing in the Tower tomorrow, and the thought that the charming Monsieur with encore du chocolat might also have failed then to cross my path, was too distressing to ponder.

Mrs. Graham went on to tell me that there was to be a Poetry Day, presided over by Jessie Rittenhouse, Edith M.

Elsa

Thomas, Theodosia Theodosia Garrison, Barker, Florence Wilkinson, Amelia Josephine Burr, Margaret Widdemer, Angela Morgan, Estelle Duclo and Blanche Shoemaker Wagslaff. Then there was to be a Press Day, when Miss Nixola Greeley-Smith of the Evening World would be enthroned, as I am sure she deserves. And there was to be a Sculptors' Day over which Mr. Harry Payne Whitney would preside, assisted by twelve of the most famous women sculptors in the world. Illustrators, etchers, woodcraft people, all were to have their days. Finally there was to be an Auctioneer Day, when Tom Masson of Life and Mr. Croninshield would make things very lively indeed, and doubtless clear up a mighty neat pile for the cause of the Allies.

I was quite awed with the magnitude and earnestness of this great bazaar. I was really impressed by the evident devotion of the women who so generously gave their time and energy to make everything a success.

On the way out I nodded goodbye to Lillian George, busy selling shares under the portrait of Master Chandler, and even caught a final glimpse (by standing on tiptoe) of the tricolor lady in the Tower of London. She had just lifted her flag toward heaven, and was evidently singing most tremendously. But of course I could hear not a single note till the great audience burst into the chorus. Men were throwing their hats into the air. It made one's blood tingle.

I had had a bully time at the Grand Central Palace, and one of my first congratulations, after I got outside where it was cooler and darker, was that I still had in store for myself a ramble with Marion Cox!

T'

AT LEAST

HE concert-goer, glancing through the "Reviews of the Past Season" (with which music editors love to pad their columns when musical events are petering out), will doubtless be astonished by the prominence accorded to folk-songs. In some cases, whole programs have been devoted to them.

While it cannot be denied that composers have made use of this interesting material in the past, in most cases they have done so in elaborate instrumental compositions. There are the well-known "Hungarian Dances" of Brahms, arranged for orchestra. In these, however, Brahms preserves their simple form and spirit, although they are skilfully selected and arranged to provide an effective concerte number. Much more elaborate, are the rather trashy rhapsodies of Liszt, of player-piano fame, and a group of composers who have utilized the folk-song in the larger forms of musical composition. A good example of the latter group is Davorak, namely in his "New World" Symphony, where he uses several Negro folk tunes for his themes with great success. However, with the possible exception of the Brahms' dances, they have been treated very freely; so freely, in fact, that most of their primitive folk spirit has been lost. With the Russians, however, the case is different, for here we have an example of music just passing out of the folk-song state. Their choral music is practically folk music, simple and unadorned. Their instrumental

music while advancing a step farther, still retains the curious naïve repetition of some prominent melodic feature and that barbaric splendor or gloomy melancholy, so peculiar to the music of the Russian peasant. Even in opera the same thing is evident as those who have seen Boris Godunoff will recall. Boris, of course, deals with a subject which is typical of Russia and the spirit of the Russian peasant, and the simple directness of the folk-song would seem to be the only way to set such a subject from a dramatic point of view. But it was not with such a consideration in mind that Moussorgski used the folk song as his medium. It was because Moussorgski knew no other kind of music, and his case is typical of most of the Russian composers. We always except Tschaikowski who was one of the most un-Russian of Russian composers, but even he did not escape the melancholy, so typical of his race.

The same folk spirit was evident in the Romantic opera in Germany at the beginning of the nineteenth century. Naïve folk myths were chosen, the su pernatural element always very prominent. The name of Weber and Marschner stand preeminent. Weber's "Der Freischütz" is just as much foll music as Boris. It has the same direct appeal to the masses, the same simple earnestness, but it has not that melan choly or barbaric splendor of its Slavi prototype. Weber although utilizing the folk-song to the same degree that Moussorgski did, used it more con

sciously, that is, with an eye to its dramatic possibilities, for Weber had the true instinct for local color. In his instrumentation, this same instinct is again evident, and, as a matter of fact, he was the first truly modern orchestrator, for he uses certain defects and peculiarities of instruments to achieve certain effects. However, after Weber and Marschner, the Romantic opera began to decline and the rising star of Wagner slowly but triumphantly ascended the horizon and with the decline, ended an interesting manifestation of the folk-song.

Now it will be perceived that in almost every case which has been shown, the desire of the composer was not to arrange folk-songs so as to make them suitable for concert, but merely to utilize material which he considered attractive, much in the manner of the medieval musician who wrote his counterpoint to some popular air which seized his fancy. Interest now seems to be centered upon the folk-song as a folk-song, instead of merely regarding it as a most convenient theme for writing variations. It appears to be a revival for the benefit of concert-goers in search of a novelty who now interest themselves in folksongs in the same way in which Marie Antoinette turned to the dairy business when she grew tired of the pomp of the court. This revival is concerned with the presenting of folk-songs in such a way that they may be effective for concert use and yet not lose any of their original character.

In order to be complete I shall have to append a list of this season's concerts in which folk-songs comprised a whole or a part of the program and as lists are invariably dry and uninteresting, those who do not wish to be bored, may skip it.

The first of these concerts was that of the Russian Choir in December at Aeolian Hall in which a few folk-songs were introduced. Then there were the

two concerts of the Schola Cantorum; the one in January presenting Russian. and Scandinavian folk music very ingeniously arranged by Deems Taylor; the other in March introducing German and French folk-songs, the former arranged by the late Max Reger of contrapuntal fame and the latter by Carlos Szaledo, the eminent harpist. A concert in April of folk-songs of the Hebrides, collected by Mme. Fraser, was fairly interesting. As people always like novelty, Ratan Devi's singing of Hindu folk music, proved to be of far more interest. She sang classical Indian ragas and popular Kashmiri as they are sung by the peasants in the fields. Finally there was the Edith Rubel Trio in two concerts; the one at the Princess Theater; the other with Kitty Cheatham at the Cosmopolitan Club.

UNIQUE CONCERT OF THE
RUBEL TRIO

F all the folk-song concerts, this was perhaps the most interesting in many ways. In the first place because of its scope, the program including twenty-seven folk-songs representing fifteen countries, both occidental and oriental. In the second place, there was a group of folk music from the mountains of Kentucky, a hitherto unexplored field, collected by Miss Josephine McGill. The entire program was arranged and adapted for piano, violin, and violoncello by W. L. Wright and H. E. Krehbiel with the greatest skill and judgment.

Sometime ago, I happened to drop in at Mr. Wright's study at New York University where he gives several courses. At the time, he was busy at work with the arrangements for this. concert. I remarked that I was rather surprised at the sudden interest in folk-songs shown during the season. "Well," he said, after a pause, "of course we have had composers in the