struments.

Music is in common life

what heat is in chemistry, an allpervading, ever-present, mysterious genius. The carpenter whistles to cheer his work, the loafer whistles to cheer his idleness. The church for life, and the barroom for death; the theater for tears, and the circus for smiles; the parlor for wealth, and the street for poverty-each of these nowadays has its inevitable, peculiar orchestra. And so every emotion continually calls, like the clown in the play: Music without there!' Victory chants, defeat wails; joy has galops, sorrow her dirges; patriotism shouts its Marseillaise, and love lives on music for food, says Old Will. Moreover, the Chinese beats his gong, and the African his jawbone; the Greek blew Dorian flutes; the Oriental charms serpents with his flageolet; German Mendelssohn sends up saintly thanks; Polish Chopin pleads for a man's broken heart, and American

Gottschalk fills the room full of great, sad-eyed ghosts—all with the piano! Aye,

There's not a star that thou beholdest

there

But in his motion like an angel sings, Still choiring to the young-eyed cherubim!

And so from 'street mud' up to 'star fire," through all grades, runs the multitudinous song of time. From a christening to a funeral is seventy years: one choir sings at the christening, another choir sings at the funeral. All the life between the dead man sang, in some sort, what tunes his heart could make. Late explorers say that they have found some nations that had no God, but I have not read of any that had no music! Wherefore, since in all holy worship, in all unholy sarcasm, in all conditions of life, in all domestic, social, religious, political, and lonely individual doings; in all passions, in all countries, earthly or

heavenly; in all stages of civilization, of time, or of eternity; since, I say, in all these music is always. present to utter the shallowest or the deepest thoughts of man or spirit-let us cease to call music a fine art, to class it with delicate pastry cookery and confectionery, and to fear to take too much of it lest it should make us sick!"

Again he writes: "I wish that in all the colleges [here in the South] the professor of music were considered, as he should be, one of the professors of metaphysics, and that he ranked of equal dignity with them, and that he stood as much chance of being elected President of the college as the professor of chemistry or the languages." These extracts show how the artist in him was cabined, cribbed, confined, and bound in to a life which offered no stimulus to the cultivation of his gift, and but scanty appreciation of or sympathy with it, and that, too,

when he is conscious of the fact that, as he wrote to a friend as late as 1873, "whatever turn I may have for art is purely musical, poetry being with me a mere tangent into which I shoot sometimes."

But only six months were given to these questionings, when a more practical struggle claimed his attention. "The early spring of 1861 brought to bloom, besides innumerable violets and jessamines, a strange, enormous, and terrible flower. This was the blood-red flower of war, which grows amid thunders; a flower whose freshening dews are blood and hot tears, whose shadow chills a land, whose odors strangle a people, whose giant petals droop downward, and whose roots are in hell. It is a species of the great genus, sin flower, which is so conspicuous in the flora of all ages and all countries, and whose multifarious leafage and fruitage so far overgrow a land that the violet, or love genus,

has often small chance to show its quiet blue." So experience taught the man to think; but a certain military taste, early shown in the boyish ardor for bows and arrows, drills, and military parades, and a wellnigh universal war fever which attacked the Southern people, swept the young tutor and his still younger brother into the Macon Volunteers and the Second Georgia Battalion and on to the bloody battlefields of Virginia. They entered as privates, and both, though offered promotion -Sidney three times-remained privates, so singularly tender was their devotion to each other.

During the first year, spent amid the delights of Norfolk society and the Norfolk market, his service was light. But this Capua was soon exchanged for the marches and hardships incident to the battles of Seven Pines, Drewry's Bluffs, and the seven days' fighting around Richmond, culminating in the terrible