Replete with fine etherially beautiful melody and graceful embellishments, it represents Mozart at his best, expressing in a form as clear and finely finished as a delicate ivory carving that mood of restful, sunny, impersonal optimism which is the essence of most of his musical creations. It is like some finely wrought Greek idyl, the apotheosis of the pastoral, perfect in detail, without apparent effort, gently, tenderly emotional, without a trace of passionate intensity or restless agitation, innocent and depending, as a mere babe. It is the mood of a bright, cloudless day on the upland pastures, where happy shepherds watch their peaceful flocks, untroubled by the storm and stress of our modern life, a mood so foreign to the hearts and environment of most present day human beings, that it is rarely understood by player or hearer, and still more rarely enjoyed. It seems flat and insipid as tepid water to the fevered lips of the young passion-driven, ambition-goaded soul in its first stormy period of struggle and achievement; but later, it is welcomed as the answer to that inarticulate, but ever increasingly frequent, sign for peace and tranquil beauty. * * * SOMEWHERE IN THE MICHIGAN WOODS. Sir: Last night I disturbed the family catawollapus--née Irish--with, "Are you asleep, Maggie?" "Yis, sor." "Too bad, Maggie; the northern lights are out, and you ought to see them." "I'm sorry, sor, but I'm sure I filled them all this morning." What I intended to say was that I have taken the liberty of christening a perfectly good he-pointer pup Jet Wimp. Hope it is not lese majesté against the revered president of the Immortals. Salvilinus Fontanalis. * * * A Sheboygan merchant announces a display of "what Dame Nature has decreed women shall wear this fall and winter." * * * In considering additions to the Academy of Immortals shall Anna Quaintance be forgot? She lives in Springfield. * * * A box-office man has won the politeness prize. Topsy-turvy world, did you say? * * * We lamp by the rural correspondence that Mrs. Alfred Snow of Chili, Wis., is on her way to Bismarck, N. D. It is suggested that she detour to Hot Springs and warm up a bit. * * * _BLAKE COMES BACK._ _Little Ford, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee, Gave thee gas and bade thee speed By the stream and o'er the mead; Gave thee cushions hard and tight, Bumpy tires small and white; Gave thee such a raucous voice, Making all the deaf rejoice? Little Ford, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee?_ _Little Ford, I'll tell thee, Little Ford, I'll tell thee. He is callèd by thy name, Henry Ford, the very same. He is meek and he is mild, Is pacific as a child. He a child and thou a Ford, You are callèd the same word. Little Ford, God bless thee! Little Ford, God bless thee!_