What magnetic charm, and what wonderful effect has music upon human beings--even upon persons who prefer to be indifferent to harmony. It also has a marked influence upon animals and reptiles--as is well known. Hence, the prancing of a well-bred horse at the sound of martial music, especially if it bear a pronounced strain of Arab blood. The snake charmers of India gain their livelihood by charming the reptiles from their haunts. Dogs also display an intense dislike for some kinds of music by whining dolorously. Cats and big domestic birds manifest the same traits. But it is the ear of the “genus homo” which is the most divinely sensitive to melody. Without possessing much special musical ability, in classical music, we may follow the story without words. If we are but the least little bit imaginative in the valse we may see the grand ball-room, lovely faces of ladies, in powder and patches, courtly men, beautiful and bizarre costumes, regal forms, flashing jewels, coquettish glances, languid grace, the poetry of motion in the magnificent figures--and mentally follow every phase of human emotion: love, hope, sigh, remorse, jealousy, despair. All these are faithfully depicted. Again, in dramatic music, without seeing the performers we feel the revelation of pent-up passion, the force of accusative and declamatory speech. How realistic it all is; and it appeals to our deepest feelings, as we follow the vibrating notes, now raised in shrill tones of invectives, or lowered to tense, nerve-straining anathemas, or terror-stricken moans. And so breathlessly we follow the music, sympathetically, or revolting at the intensity of love or hate in the drama. Then the final death-scene brings us back to our normal selves. But more tranquilly beautiful is the pastoral theme--each kind of music has its own individuality. We imagine the sylvan scene, the sleek kine, the woodland, the silver stream, the soft zephyrs, the rustic lover and the maid, the cattle knee-deep in herbage. Then a stillness. Again the wind stirs the leaves We can almost hear them falling. Then the patter of rain-drops, and the rising of the tempest; and at last birds trilling their lays--and then the sun shining through the clouds. Again, the “Dead March in Saul” has a deep effect on us--that beautiful march which now and again we hear in Brisbane streets, at some military funeral. So sad. The riderless horse--the first notes so infinitely pathetic. The place which has known us will soon know us no more for ever, it seems to say, and makes the most callous of us sob. Then the sublime triumphant notes ring out telling us that the soul has discarded the veil of flesh, and has assumed its immortal garb. So does music speak.