Last of all come the instruments of Percussion,—that is to say instruments that are beaten, or knocked, or struck, or thumped, or shaken, such as the Drums, Triangle, Cymbals and Tambourine. This group is also called the “Battery.” With these three separate choirs grouped into three separate families, each with its special characteristics and accomplishments, the composer is able to do many wonderful things. For example, he can let any choir, or any instrument in that choir, sing a melody while the other choirs accompany it with lovely harmonies, or dispute with it, or start up another melody in opposition to it, or even make comments, pleasant or ill-natured, on it, as it were. Then, in addition, the composer has the “Battery” of beaten instruments to accent the rhythms, or to add sharp, bright, penetrating notes; dull, soft, deep thuds; mutterings and crashes. The Harp does not belong to any family, or group. The other instruments are very indifferent about him. Perhaps they regard him as an interloper. The Harp is not a regular member of the Orchestra: he is only an occasional guest. Although a stringed instrument, the Harp does not belong to the “Strings.” He comes from another line, another race,—from the minstrels and bards. The Harp has a poetic and a passionate utterance all his own, which is of an entirely different kind of poetry and passion from that of the Violin tribe. Applause! Here comes the Conductor! He bows, walks to the stand, bows again and steps upon the platform. Now he turns and looks at the audience. His quick glance sweeps the whole house—from top gallery to parquet—and takes in everything, everywhere. He has now commanded the attention he desires. Everybody is getting quiet. We did not notice—perhaps because we were contributing to it ourselves—that there was a general rustle and chatter and movement. Now that there is a hush over everything we notice the contrast. But the Conductor is not quite satisfied. Some persons are still talking in the box above us. He looks at them and waits for them to finish. He does not have to wait long. They notice the reproof and their chatter ceases suddenly. Now all is quiet. The Conductor turns and faces his men. He lifts the little, white stick that was lying beside the score on his desk, raps on the desk to command attention from his men and raises his right hand. What is the first number? Let me see the programme. Thank you. Mendelssohn’s _Overture to Midsummer Night’s Dream_. Such lovely opening chords! How silvery, delicate, faint and far-away are those soft, gentle harmonies that melt into one another like the tender hues of sunset clouds! They are, indeed, “the horns of Elfland faintly blowing.” As we hear them we are transported into another world,—a world of fancy and delight. We enter Fairyland ourselves!