"The Italians are so frivolous," said Mrs. Boru-Stiffe. "A reign of frivolity ensued," went on Mr. Dubbe. "Not only was Italian music influenced by this sixth, but Italian art, architecture, sculpture, even material products. Take, for example, Neapolitan ice-cream. Observe the influence of the sixth. The cream is made in three color tones--the vanilla being the subdominant, as the chord is of subdominant character; the strawberry being the submediant, and the restful green the lowered supertonic or altered tone." "What is the pineapple ice?" asked Miss Gay Votte. "The pineapple ice is the twelfth overtone," replied Mr. Dubbe. "There doesn't seem to be anything that Mr. Dubbe doesn't know," whispered Mrs. Fuller-Prunes to me with a smile. I should say there wasn't! After the lecture we had a lovely hand-made luncheon. Miss Ellenborough presided at the doughnuts and Mrs. G. Clef poured. It was such a helpful hour. II. "You remember," said Mr. Dubbe, "that Herr Weidig, in his lecture on the wood winds, gave a double bassoon illustration from Brahms' 'Chorale of St. Anthony,' which you are to hear to-day. But Herr Weidig neglected to mention the most interesting point in the illustration--that the abysmal-toned double bassoon calls attention to the devil-possessed swine, St. Anthony being the patron saint of swine-herds. I want you to listen carefully to this swine motive. It is really extraordinary." Mr. Dubbe wrote the motive on the blackboard and then played it on his double bassoon, which, he said, is one of the very few in this country. "The bassoon," said Mr. Dubbe, "was Beethoven's favorite instrument. I go further than Beethoven in preferring the double bassoon. Among my unpublished manuscripts are several compositions for this instrument, and my concerto for two double bassoons is now in the hands of a Berlin publisher. "But to recur to the Brahms chorale. You should know that it makes the second best variations in existence. The best are in the Heroic Symphony. The third best are Dvorák's in C major." "C. Major--that's the man who wrote 'Dorothy Vernon,'" giggled Miss Vera Cilly. "I am not discussing ragtime variations," said Mr. Dubbe, severely. "Not knocking anybody," whispered Miss Gay Votte. "Another interesting point in connection with this week's program," resumed Mr. Dubbe, "is the river motive in Smetana's symphonic poem, 'The Moldau.' Three flutes represent (loosely speaking; for, as I have often told you, music cannot represent anything) the rippling of the Moldau, a tributary of the Danube. If the composer had had a larger river in mind he would have used nine flutes. If this composition of Smetana's seems rather unmusical, allowance must be made for him, as the poor man was deaf and couldn't hear how bad his own music was." "Wasn't Beethoven deaf?" asked Miss Sara Band. "Only his physical ears were affected," replied Mr. Dubbe. "Smetana's soul ears were also deaf."