are perhaps too personal to be generally appreciated. Here is one song which is utterly the product of his individual genius, but at the same time a universal art-work. Beyond MacDowell it is not easy to name a single American song-writer who has any claim to a position among the song-writers of the world. A few, especially in very recent years, have shown a marked talent which may be expected to develop into something unusual. But, on the whole, the American song output, though enormous, has been consistently and painfully second-rate in character. This is not to belittle the excellent work which certain Americans have accomplished in this field; but their interest must necessarily be local. The American song-writers are treated in detail in another volume,[31] so we need here only mention them and the occasional treasures hidden in a mass of work too facile and imitative. We should name, however, one of their number who, with rather limited talents, has nevertheless made a place for himself in the hearts of people in Europe as well as in this country. This is Ethelbert Nevin (1862-1901), chiefly known among pianists for his charming suites of short pieces. Nevin’s reputation as a song-writer rests chiefly on one lyric, ‘The Rosary,’ which has had a remarkable vogue, well deserved. It is difficult to find any other of his songs which approaches this in emotional breadth. But out of his numerous list there are a few which are well worth knowing. ‘Sleep, Little Tulip’ is a bit of a lullaby with a charming swing and a delicate sentiment, given an additional interest by the lilt of the accompaniment, which is managed with much skill. ‘A Song of Love’ is above the average in musical vigor and ‘Orsola’s Song,’ to the French words of Jean Richepin, imitates with success the Gallic method. _In der Nacht_, to German words, is unusual for breadth and genuineness. Nevin is too often a mere sentimentalist, too often imitative, too often dependent on mannerisms and formulas. Some of these mannerisms, however, are effective, especially that of writing a contrapuntal melody in the accompaniments, as in the second half of ‘The Rosary.’ Though his invention was facile rather than profound, and his musicianship slight, we cannot deny him praise for a certain delicacy of touch, a certain artistic sense of fitness, which were too often lacking in his American contemporaries.