It has long been considered a difficult thing for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle, but the science of these latter days-the same science that has given the world the telegraph and the telephone-has made it possible for men, women and children, for camels, yes, and entire menageries, not only to pass through the eye of a needle, but to pass through the point, and having thus passed through, to sing and speak, to roar and bark and whinny-in short, to make whatever sounds they please, and be heard, after making them, thousands of miles away. To-day the great Patti can sing her immortal songs in her castle in Wales and be heard, through the needle's point, in San Francisco and a hundred other places at the same time. And so of the world's great orators and entertainers, the great thinkers who stir the heart, and the merry people who aid digestion. In fact, whatever the cities have in their theatres and churches and concert halls that is best worth hearing may be heard quite conveniently, and with only the slightest falling off in quality, by the denizens of the most remote village-and all through the point of a needle-the needle of the gram-o-phone, which traces the undulations of the sound-waves as they are preserved on indestructible records, and reproduces them through that wonderful instrument.

Aladdin's trick seems to have literally been performed in our time, and New York, London and Paris may be picked up now by whomsoever will, and whisked off through hundreds of miles and made to strike all their beautiful instruments, pianos, and violins, blaring horns, and sing with full chorus of voices, and otherwise disport themselves for the amusement or instruction of the humblest provincial.

Whoever buys a Berliner gram-o-phone buys a box at the opera, rents a pew in a city church, secures permanent admission to the best music halls, can order out a dashing military band, can make the great piano players of the day his obedient servants, and can do a great many other things which would have put somebody in danger of being roasted for witchcraft had they been attempted by our forefathers.

And let it be understood clearly that this is no expensive arrangement, to be easily injured, nor is it anything that requires batteries or electrical

GRAM-O-PHONE INDESTRUCTIBLE RECORD

contrivances for its running. It is as simple and compact as a music-box, while the discs which preserve the sound records are flat surfaces of gutta percha, and are practically indestructible. They may be thrown about or scratched, or left with the children to play with, and when put back under the needle, they will give out the original words or

music with unchanged sweetness and distinctness. That is the first point, and another is that the singing of the gram-o-phone really is singing, not squeaking, and the talking is real talking, as if the speaker were there before you. So perfect is the method of reproduction that the human voice comes out, whether in speech or song, practically as it went in, and thousands of people may listen to it at one time, for there is no need here of bending anxiously over an ear-trumpet; you hear what is going on whether you will or not. A cornet solo played in the Metropolitan Opera House from the gram-o-phone filled the whole auditorium.

And now let us see what this wonderful little instrument is going to do for people who live in the towns and smaller cities. In the first place, take the young ladies who, after four years at college, return to their little homes with many graces and accomplishments, particularly an appreciation of the best classical music. They find themselves suddenly in uncongenial surroundings, where most of the pianos are out of tune, and most of those who play on them play badly. The gram-o-phone gives them a breadth of art life in the rendering of the great compositions they love by the finest performers. With this they have masters to imitate in their own parlors, sources of inspiration ever present.

Then take the boys. What one of them does not love to hear the banjo played, a lively strumming of the strings by a cunning hand? The gram-ophone gives them what they want, and the best banjoplaying-gives it to them whenever they choose to listen. And if they tire of the banjo they can turn on a crashing brass band, with marches and songs of the regiments until their hearts beat with valor.

And the old folks themselves, with hearts ever fresh for the old emotions, will find themselves won over by the gram-o-phone on many a winter's evening, otherwise lonely, when they will gather about fires of crackling logs, in farmhouse and country home, and listen to the dear old songs, "Annie Laurie," and "Down on the Suwanee River," and "The Last Rose of Summer," and the old glees from years ago, sung to them, not by amateurs from the village choir, but by the greatest artists of the day-sung through the needle.

And then the comic songs-everyone likes these now and then, but few who live away from the cities ever hear them sung in the best style; they must content themselves with the whistlings of the village lads, who pick the airs up as best they may a year or so late. But now the gram-o-phone, with its discs kept closely up to date, gives the country Ithe best that the city has-those much advertised entertainers, whose enormous salaries are told of in the newspapers. All these the country may have now almost as soon as the city; and it is plain that a great change will soon be wrought in the farmhouse Sunday-a dreary enough thing in the past. No more wheezy melodeons laboring away in cheerless parlors, no more feeble singing of hymns by untuned voices, but the finest anthems as sung in churches on Fifth Avenue, and the beautiful solos of high-priced specialists, and the chanting of surpliced choirs, and the harmonies of double quartettes, not to mention inspiring addresses by the greatest preachers of the day. Not only in the home is the gram-o-phone to find itself a cause of entertainment, but already small and