they do not make the most dignified and successful progress in the tonal sea.
Every one who can conjure up a bit of melody thinks himself a full-fledged composer, though he may know naught of the spelling, grammar, or rhetoric of music. Others who have considerable talent consider that it supplies the place of study properly directed by competent teachers.
The writer was approached not long before penning this sketch by a man who claimed to have written symphonies, operas, string quartets, and dear knows what all else, and who wound up by boasting that he had never taken a single music lesson of any kind whatever. When his claim and list of compositions was made known we felt as though we might be standing in the presence of some unknown and unrecognized Beethoven; when the final statement as to taking no lessons was uttered, we felt as though we were standing in the presence of—a fool.
Perhaps it would be better if we could all be as conscientious as that honest old German teacher, who, when approached by his admiring pupils with the exclamation:—"Oh, Herr Teufelsberg, you know so much about music; why don't you compose; you could write such perfectly elegant pieces?"—exclaimed: "Nein, nein, I vill nod write mine museek. Mein Gott! dere ish genug bad museek in de vorlt, alreadish!"
58.—AN IGNORANT TENOR.
Campanini once made an enemy by the use of a title which a rival singer thought to be his own particular property. Fancelli, the rival, was a very ignorant man and could hardly read or write, but he deciphered the term "Primo Tenore Assoluto" on Campanini's baggage, and this aroused his wrath, as he considered the word "Assoluto" (meaning absolute or unrivaled), should be
