supplied by the bellows of the lungs, worked by the mighty muscles of the chest and sides. In this play the red blood goes to every tiny cell that has been white and faint for want of its food; the engorged brain and nervous centres where the blood has settled, heating and irritating them, are relieved; the head feels bright, the hands grow warm, the eyes clear, and the spirits lively. This is after singing strongly for half an hour. The same effect is gained by any other kind of brisk work that sets the lungs and muscles going, but as music brings emotion into play, and is a pleasure or a relief as it is melancholy or gay, it is preferable. The work that engages one’s interest as well as strength is always the best. Per contra, whatever one does thoroughly and with dispatch seldom continues distasteful. There is more than we see at a glance in the command, “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.” The reason given, because the time is short for all the culture and all the good work we wish to accomplish, is the apparent one; but the root of it lies in the necessities of our being. Only work done with our might will satisfy our energies and keep their balance. Half the women in the world are suffering from chronic unrest, morbid ambitions, and disappointments that would flee like morning mist before an hour of hearty, tiring work. It is not so much matter what the work is, as how it is done. The weak should take work up by degrees, working half an hour and resting, then going at it steadily again. It is better to work a little briskly and rest than to keep on the slow drag through the day. Learn not only to do things well, but to do them quickly. It is disgraceful to loiter and drone over one’s work. It is intolerable both in music and in life.