Such a work as the "Maiden and the Butterfly" is as fragile and rich as a butterfly's wing. "My Lady Jacqueminot" is exquisitely, delicately passionate. "Eros" is frail, rare, ecstatic. "Ghosts" is elfin and dainty as snowflakes. The "Spinning Song" is inexpressibly sad, and such music as women best understand, and therefore ought to make best. But womanliness equally marks "The Grief of Love," which is in every sense big in quality; marks the bitterness of "Oh, What Comes over the Sea," the wailing Gaelic sweetness of the "Irish Love Song," and the fiery passion of "Betrayed," highly dramatic until its rather trite ending. "Nameless Pain" is superb. Her "Lament" I consider one of the greatest of songs, and proof positive of woman's high capabilities for composition. Miss Lang has a harmonic individuality, too, and finds out new effects that are strange without strain. [Music: GHOSTS. Words by Munkittrick. MARGARET RUTHVEN LANG. Out in the misty moonlight, the first snow flakes I see, As they frolic among the leafless boughs of the apple tree. Faintly they seem to whisper, as round the boughs they wing; "We are the ghosts of the flowers who died in the early spring, Who died in the early spring." Copyright, 1889, by Arthur P. Schmidt & Co.] "My Turtle Dove," among the "Five Norman Songs," in fearlessness and harmonic exploration shows two of the strongest of Miss Lang's traits. Her _recherches_ harmonies are no pale lunar reflection of masculine work. Better yet, they have the appearance of spontaneous ease, and the elaborateness never obtrudes itself upon the coherence of the work, except in a few such rare cases as "My Native Land," "Christmas Lullaby," and "Before My Lady's Window." They are singable to a degree unusual in scholarly compositions. To perfect the result Miss Lang chooses her poems with taste all too rare among musicians, who seem usually to rate gush as feeling and gilt as gold. Her "Oriental Serenade" is an example of weird and original intervals, and "A Spring Song," by Charlotte Pendleton, a proof of her taste in choosing words. Her opus 32 is made up of two songs, both full of fire and originality. Opus 33 is a captivating "Spring Idyl" for the piano, for which she has also written a "Revery," of which the exquisiteness of sleep is the theme. The music is delicious, and the ending is a rare proof of the beautiful possibilities of dissonance. Personally, I see in Miss Lang's compositions such a depth of psychology that I place the general quality of her work above that of any other woman composer. It is devoid of meretriciousness and of any suspicion of seeking after virility; it is so sincere, so true to the underlying thought, that it seems to me to have an unusual chance of interesting attention and stirring emotions increasingly with the years.