The distinguishing characteristic of Chopin's piano-playing was his lovely musical and poetic tone, his warm and emotional coloring, and his impassioned utterance. In those days one was not afraid to play with a great deal of sentiment, although pianists who were capable of doing this poetically were rare. In modern times it has become the fashion to ridicule any tendency toward emotional playing and to extol the intellectual side beyond its just proportion. It seems to me that there should be a happy combination and a delicate and well-proportioned adjustment between the temperamental and intellectual, with a slight preponderance of the former. An anecdote of Adolf Henselt, also related to me by Dreyschock, is entertaining as well as suggestive, especially to pianoforte-players, who are constantly troubled with nervousness when playing before an audience. Henselt, whose home was in St. Petersburg, was in the habit of spending a few weeks every summer with a relative who lived in Dresden. Dreyschock, passing through that city, called on him one morning, and upon going up the staircase to his room, heard the most lovely tones of the pianoforte imaginable. He was so fascinated that he sat down at the top of the landing and listened for a long time. Henselt was playing repeatedly the same composition, and his playing was also specially characterized by a warm emotional touch and a delicious legato, causing the tones to melt, as it were, one into the other, and this, too, without any confusion or lack of clearness. Henselt was full of sentiment, but detested "sentimentality." Finally, for lack of time, Dreyschock was obliged to announce himself, although, as he said, he could have listened for hours. He entered the room, and after the usual friendly greeting said, "What were you playing just now as I came up the stairs?" Henselt replied that he was composing a piece and was playing it over to himself. Dreyschock expressed his admiration of the composition, and begged Henselt to play it again. Henselt, after prolonged urging, sat down to the pianoforte and began playing again, but, alas! his performance was stiff, inaccurate, and even clumsy, and all of the exquisite poetry and unconsciousness of his style completely disappeared. Dreyschock said that it was quite impossible to describe the difference; and this was simply the result of diffidence and nervousness, which, as it appeared, were entirely out of the player's power to control. Pianoforte-players frequently experience this state of things. The only remedy is freedom from self-consciousness, which can best be achieved by earnest and persistent mental concentration. ANTON SCHINDLER, "AMI DE BEETHOVEN" After finishing my studies with Dreyschock, I went to Frankfort, not to study under any particular master, but in order to enjoy the opera and the musical life there. Moreover, two or three of my old Boston friends were temporarily settled there, pursuing their musical studies.