upon with any convenient article, such as an elephant's tusk or the bone of an ancestor. When struck at one end, it emits the sound bim; when struck at the other, a clear-toned bam is produced: hence its curious name. The following melody, known as the "War-Song of Prince Brahmadan," gives one an idea of the capacity of this instrument: Bim-bim-bam, bim-bam-bim. The chorus is also characteristic: Bim, bim! At the religious ceremonies of the Bengalese, the Futrib, or high priest, plays upon a peculiar one-toned flute, producing an effect of awe and mystery, as this hymn to the sun-god aptly illustrates: Too-oo-t! Toot, toot-a-toot, toot-a-toot, toot; Too-oo-t! With this wealth of material to draw from, Schnitzel has constructed a work that is nearly perfect in form. Beginning with a soft bim-bam-bim, which is followed by a sinister toot, toot, he works up to a climax of marvelous contrapuntal ingenuity, in which the two themes are combined thus: Bim, toot, bam, toot-a-toot, A. L. S. III. ACQUIESCENCE From the "New York Chronicle": "WASHINGTON" REPEATED Last night was a brilliant one at the opera. "Washington," the new American music-drama, was given for the second time, with the same cast as before. Among those who attended the performance were Mrs. Pierpont Astorbilt, who wore pale nesserole garnished with soufflée; Mr. and Mrs. Plantagenet Carter, the latter in an exquisite creation of blanc-mange; and Mrs. Sibley HarwoodSevens, in gray limousine, air-cooled with. insertion. Mrs. Reginald Carrington's guests were Lord and Lady Shrewby and the Duc de Vaurien. The latter wore a black dress-suit and a white shirt. Mrs. Gaybird was present for the first time since the death of her husband. She wore her skirt at half-mast. Mrs. Leeland Fitzhugh looked charming in a cherry wig; her two daughters were becomingly coifed with strawberry and vanilla. (UNSIGNED.) IV. SENESCENCE From the New York "Evening Spot": BASSOON CONCERTO A RELIEF FROM MODERNISM BY A. LINCOLN SIMPSON New York is suffering from a plethora of concerts. The fact that the halls are generally crowded is no excuse for giving so many performances. It is unfair to the critics. Yesterday afternoon, at the concert of Käse played that great German masterthe Gotham Symphony Society, Ludwig work, the Leberwurst bassoon concerto in F-flat major, opus posthumous. ("Posthumous" does not in this case have its usual meaning of written after the defunction of the composer's brain: it refers to the fact that Leberwurst did not live to publish the work, as his audience lynched him when he played it from manuscript.) This concerto, dedicated to the composer's patron, the deaf old Duke of Pretzelheim, bears the title of "Spring," and this vernal quality was admirably brought out by Herr Käse, particularly in the movement representing influenza. Indeed, it was impossible to hear his sublime sniffulations without being moved to profound coughing. François Grisé's "Gingerbread Suite, scored for viola, piccolo, trombone, and celesta, might have been interesting had it been more of a novelty; but, since it had been heard in New York' five times within four years, its performance on this occasion was a mistake. The program included also a symphonic rhapsody on cow-boy melodies. As this is by an obscure native composer and has never been heard before, there is nothing to say about it. 8:15-OPENING CHORUS: "We're the Leaders of Society." 8:25-Loud explosion off-stage right, indicative of blowing-up of an automobile. Enter comedian: "You 're an odd fellow!" "No, I'm a Mystic Shriner." "Do you like champagne?" "No, it tastes as if your foot was asleep." 8:40-SONG: "Underneath the syncopated moon." 8:52-"Why don't you brush your You can talk about your Paris streets CHORUS: Dear old Broadway, that 's the place for me; Where skies are blue and girls are true, 't is there that I would be. There's always a friend to help you spend the hours that quickly fly, For I was born on Broadway, and it 's there I'll live and die. I've roamed the foreign avenues Of Europe night and day; CHORUS [With fine feeling]: Dear old Broadway, that 's the place-etc. Chorus-girls take ends of colored ribbons, and are driven off like ponies by chorus-men in gray Prince Alberts. 9:20-"Have you ever seen Yonkers?" "No, what are Yonkers?" "Thank you for your photograph; I will always wear it next to my heart." [Places photograph in his hip pocket.] 9:35-SONG: "When little old New Amsterdam was new": In little old New Amsterdam, before New "Votes for Women," the slowness of Philadelphia, colored wigs, "white slave dramas," and others; the last of them being a very serious and very lugubrious stanza celebrating the Panama Canal, "Old Glory," and Theodore Roosevelt. Chorus-girls dance off in solid line, last girl, upon reaching wings, kicking her right foot out at audience. 9:42 "I thought you were well off before you were married." "I was; but I did n't know it." "Your sister Mary is fat, ain't she?" "Yes, but I've got a sister Lena." 9:50-Leading lady, in pink décolleté, plays violin on darkened stage. SONG [Tempo di Vienna]: When the heavens are swaying to mystical With never a note that is false; rarest, For that is the hour of the waltz. The folks found life a most attractive When music is thrilling and all hearts are pastime ; They had no fiendish chauffeurs who would fail to toot their horn, And make one dodge a taxi for the last time. They had no "six best sellers," with the accent on the sex; No restaurants where no one ever rested; No "extras" full of murder trials and matrimonial wrecks; In short, their days were almost unmolested. filling With rapture and breathless romance, With your hand in mine, dear, and while your eyes shine, dear, Let love guide your steps in the dance. CHORUS [Softly, languorously]: Dance with me, dance with me, darling, Farewell to sorrow, heed not to-morrow, They never knew the subway's long delay; Your glances so tender have made me surrender "No, I 've got a wife." 10:14-LOVE SONG: The Indian, judging by report, Is taciturn and grim; His knife is long, his speech is short; He lacks the proper vim. But when love strikes the Indian's heart, CHORUS: For it 's love that makes the world go round Upon its throbbing axis; 'T is love we praise; 't is love that pays The piper and the taxes. 'T is love goes hand in hand with youth, And with the stars above; So what is wealth or fame or health Compared to love, lo-o-ve, LOVE! 'T is love that fires the blood that starts Beneath New England mittens; It even stirs the placid hearts Of Brooklynites and Britons. Grocer and king attempt to sing, Thrilled with a wild propensity; And life exults while in its pulse There burns this new intensity. ALL [With conviction]: Yes, it's love that makes the world go round, etc. 10:19-M1le. Firenza and M. Allaire in tango exhibition. 10:26-SONG: There is only one spot on the map, I say; And that is our own only U. S. A.! Chorus girls march in military formation to footlights, then, suddenly wheeling, discloseAmerican flags on their backs. 10:30 "Is your brother still alive?" "No, he lives in New Rochelle." "Where is Signor Bombastino?" "He must be in the dining-room; I hear somebody eating soup." 10:42-SONG: "Tell me." [Sung by the blonde ingénue in a white lingerie dress.] Tell me, little brook that flows, Tell me, proud and blushing rose; Tell me, lakes that laugh and shine, CHORUS [Slowly and far too sentimentally]: Tell me, ah, tell me, 'neath a magic moon Tell me, ah, tell me, while the month is June; Whisper low the secret, soft as falling dew, Tell me, ah, tell me-is my loved one true? Tell me, perfume-laden breeze, Tell me, flowers that fade; CHORUS [Slower, and even more sentimentally]: Tell me, ah, tell |