Lady Harris, and Miss Zélie de Lussan. Mr. (now Sir) Charles Wyndham and Miss Mary Moore came later on, and with them the young American actress Miss Fay Davis (not yet known on the stage), who recited some pieces with great piquancy and grace. The feature of the musicale, however, was a performance of Schumann's pianoforte quartet (Op. 47) by four distinguished artists, to wit, Fanny Davies, Sarasate, Hollander, and Piatti-a combination rare even at the "Pops," and, above all, to be appreciated for the honor therein conferred upon me by the great Spanish violinist, who seldom took part in a chamber-work beyond the "Kreutzer" or some other duet sonata. Altogether it was an interesting night.

TO-DAY, perhaps, Craig-y-nos Castle is the scene of fewer festive entertainments upon a large scale. Nevertheless, the Baroness Cederström is as dearly attached as ever to her mountain home, and when she is not traveling abroad or professionally, she spends virtually the whole of her time there. She sings regularly at some twenty or twenty-five concerts every year (three or four in London, the remainder in

the provinces), and is received everywhere with the old-time ecstasy and enthusiasm. Nor can one feel astonished at the vast assemblages which gather at these peculiar functions, seeing that Adelina Patti yet retains her title, "The Queen of Song," by virtue of tones still pure, rich, vibrant, and exquisitely musical; by the magic of an art which no other singer of her day has exemplified with the same wondrous measure of beauty and perfection. This extraordinary survival of power and popularity makes it difficult to tell even approximately when the great prima donna will bring her unexampled career to a close. She has now agreed to undertake a farewell tour in the United States during the coming winter; but it is not her intention to appear here in opera. Thus the American public will not have an opportunity to realize the full extent of that amazing development of her dramatic genius to which I have more especially made reference. But Patti is always Patti; and, whatever the conditions, her final coming will be the occasion of a rapturous welcome from the citizens of the country in which she was reared and which can almost claim the honor of having given her birth.

As

S the athletic subfreshman, on her last day at home, polishes her golf-clubs and packs her racket among her chiffons and muslins, she has her own pet dream of college glory: a multitude of eager faces focused upon her, tense dramatic moments, a breathless climax, and a tumult of applause.

It is a good dream. Nowadays this out-ofdoor young person, glorying in her strength. and muscular skill, is frankly welcomed at any woman's college. Her influence is recognized as a balance that keeps the intellectual emphasis from swinging past the danger-line. In the composite of college ambitions hers plays a vital part.

There is small danger that the athletic freshman's brain will not be exercised. Incentives to its activity meet her wherever she turns. The matching of wits in class and out of it, the necessity of keeping up with the intellectual stride the college has set, the new impressions crowding in upon her

-all give her mind occupation enough and to spare. Even if she wastes her hours and plays too long, and refuses to taste deeply enough the delights of pure study, the faculty has a quick way of opening her eyes. Presently she will find herself in the plight of

"Little Jill Horner,

Who sat in a corner,
Wiping her weeping eye;

She 'd been with the horde
To the faculty board,

And she wailed, 'A condition have I!'"

Now a condition, or even a low grade of work, in a woman's college usually shuts the athlete out of paradise. With that blight upon her she is a pawn, a nobody-hers only to watch with wistful eyes, while others win or lose the athletic laurels for her class.

Such a possibility gives the muscular and ambitious freshman no encouragement to mental naps. Her classmates, who regard her as the star of their athletic salvation,

as well as her own desire, spur her on to keep above that fatal level of "poor work." But the bookish girl is another kind of problem. With an ancestral sense of duty behind her and a serious purpose before, she looks on college as an intellectual opportunity. She is fear-ridden with the thought of not giving "every flying minute something to keep in store." Intellectual Oliver Twist that she is, she takes all the work she is allowed, and cries for more. She cannot grasp enough of this transient feast of reason to satisfy her appetite. Students warn her, teachers warn her, the college doctor protests. Then one day her doom is pronounced-" overwork, nervous prostration"; and during a period of enforced idleness she adds a new proverb to her working philosophy: "Half a loaf is better than none."

As colleges for women have grown in years and experience, they have come to recognize more and more the need of physical training for their students, to keep pace with the mental. While the catalogue of requirements and electives

has been growing from three pages to twenty, physical development has had its due share of attention and expansion.

As a result, courses on hygiene have become a compulsory part of the curriculum. The ladylike gymnastics of an earlier period, which did no harm and little good, have given place to departments of physical culture, and to scientific exercise administered by instructors as expert in their own line as professors of Greek are in theirs.

Whatever her college, the bookish girl may not sweep into a breakdown unchecked. Required "gym" work meets her at the outset, and only providence in the guise of the doctor's excuse can save her from it. So much of a safeguard every college provides. But in forming the normal young person who works well and plays well, experienced faculties now realize that required gymnastics, however valuable they may be, will hardly arouse, of themselves, the enthusiasm for physical activity which makes preeminently studious girls healthy as well as wise.

That is why all the colleges for girls provide opportunities for physical recreation as well as for physical work. The

strong young freshman, with her racket and her golf-clubs and her enthusiasm, finds not only courts and links, but a dozen other ways besides of working off her muscular exuberance, unconscious that her mission is to act as leaven on her less energetic companions.

In the larger significance of athletics for girls each college has developed its own picturesque climax and test of physical ability. At Vassar, field-day in the spring is the focus of many athletic hopes and ambitions. Interclass basket-ball matches set the whole college on tiptoe with excitement, and the championship is a prize

indeed; but field-day, with the sanction of long custom upon it, seems to outsiders, at least, even more the characteristic expression of Vassar's athletic spirit. It falls on a certain Saturday in late spring. The grassy Circle, hedged in with evergreen, is the arena, and gathered to watch the struggle are throngs of chattering college girls brandishing their class colors, dozens of alumnæ hardly less excited, and a sprinkling of mothers, little sisters, and other feminine guests.

One-hundred-yard dash, 220-yard dash, relay race, running high jump, running broad jump, standing broad jump, fence vault, basket-ball throw, base-ball throw, putting the eight-pound shot-all these things are on the Vassar field-day program. The records are surprising as an