"Manuel Garcia's science and cleverness," writes another, "enabled him to know at once whether he had to deal with a pupil of promise or not, and unlikely aspirants were not allowed to waste his time and theirs. "I remember a notable case in point. A very rich lady offered the master any price if he would only teach her daughter. He refused, knowing well he could never obtain serious work from her; but as the mother persisted he hit upon a compromise. He asked the ladies to be present during a lesson, and he undertook to teach her, if the girl still wished to learn singing after hearing it taught. The lesson began. The pupil--who seemed to the listeners an already finished singer--had to repeat passage after passage of the most difficult exercises before the master was satisfied; he insisted upon the minutest attention to every detail of execution. Mother and daughter exchanged horrified glances, and looked on pityingly. The lesson was finished, the master bowed the ladies out, and in passing the pupil the young girl whispered to her, 'It would kill me!' Señor Garcia, returning from the door, said contentedly, 'They will not come again. Thank you, mon enfant, you sang well.' "He was always careful to avoid making his pupils self-conscious by too many explanations. In one case he found a simple way of teaching chest-voice to a girl. 'Do you know how a duck speaks?' Señor Garcia asked her. 'Imitate it, please.' "With much giggling, to which he listened patiently, she tried to obey, 'Quack, quack.' "'Good! Now turn this into a singing note; sing one tone lower in the same manner, and one more.'" A simple enough device, which spared him and his pupil much vexation. His knowledge of the human voice and his power of detecting its faults were equally marvellous. He had a pupil who, by singing higher than her natural range, had strained her voice, and it was necessary that she should avoid singing anything in a high register. Once only she disobeyed him, and on entering his room the next day she was greatly surprised that the master's face was flushed with anger. At once he reproached her for having sung soprano. She pleaded guilty. "But how did you know?" "I heard you speak, that is quite enough," he said; and he told her that in ten years not a note would be left of her brilliant voice. However, on her promising not to disobey his instructions again, Garcia made up his mind to help the girl to come out under his auspices as an oratorio singer. "But," he told her, "you will need one year's uninterrupted study before appearing in public."