accustomed pieces of music, and by diligently practising, daily, small easy exercises, which must be played delicately, with loose fingers, and without allowing the arm to give the slightest assistance; otherwise, all labor will be thrown away upon him.  How else can you begin, except by laying a proper foundation for a better style?  I have frequently urged this principle both by speech and in writing; but the difficulty always returns, and especially in the cultivation of female singers.

A girl of eighteen comes to me:  she has heard of the excellent cultivation of my lady singers, and wishes to obtain the same for herself.  In order that I may hear her voice, she selects the “Erlkoenig,” by Schubert, that perilous piece, which is apt to lead even highly cultivated singers into frightful atrocities.  Heavens! what must I hear?  With the remains of a fine, youthful voice, whose registers are already broken up and disconnected, she shrieks out the “Erlkoenig,” between sobs and groans, with screwed-up chest-tones, and many modern improprieties, but nevertheless with dramatic talent.  The piercing voice, forced to its utmost, fills me with horror; but also with pity for such a glorious endowment, and such an unnatural development.  At the conclusion, her voice succumbed to the effort, and she could only groan hoarsely, and wheeze without emitting a sound.  She has, however, frequently produced great effect in society, and drawn tears with this performance:  it is her favorite piece.  Let us abandon this singing for parties, this melancholy dilettantismus, everywhere so obtrusive!  The girl is only eighteen years old:  is she beyond salvation?  I endeavor to build her voice up again, gradually, by gentle practice.  She succeeds very well in it, and after six lessons her natural docility arouses hope.  The head-tones again make their appearance, and the practice of solfeggio brings out once more the stifled voice which had been forced back into the throat by senseless exertions; a better attack begins to be developed, and the chest-register returns to its natural limits.  She now declared, with her mother’s approval, that she really would continue to study in this way, but she could not give up the performance of her effective and spirited conception of the “Erlkoenig.”  She came a few times more:  I could perceive that the good structure was tottering.  After a few months, she had entirely sacrificed her voice to this single “Erlkoenig.”  In such tender years, one such idol is sufficient.  What a price for an “Erlkoenig”!  The old, experienced singing-teacher, Miksch, of Dresden (with the exception of Rossini, the last famous champion of the old school), has often warned me that radical amendment is seldom possible with such over-strained and broken voices, which already are obliged to struggle with enfeebled muscles, even although youth may excite great and decided hopes.  There is also another difficulty:  that one of these strong, over-strained