impure, yet it is no less his own habitual tone. The most agreeable and effective Normal is pure in Quality; the vibrations of the vocal cords are smooth and even, the resonance is in the upper and back part of the mouth, and there is but little escape of unvocalized breath.

In the sounds of nature this Quality is heard in the rippling brook, the song of birds, the prattle and laughter of children, and in the common conversation of all peoples. It belongs to the Mental division of man's triune nature because it is the natural expression of our ordinary thoughts and moods when we are not influenced by any unusual restraint or strong emotion. It is used then to express ordinary thought and emotion such as solemnity, tranquillity, mild pathos, conversation, didactic thought, gladness, joy, mirth, and laughter.

The use of a pure Normal is an economic method, for it has greater carrying power than any other Quality, requires less effort and less expenditure of breath, and is more easily heard by the audience, to say nothing of the pleasing impression of a good voice. To acquire it, practice on the vowel sounds, use a pure Normal habitually in conversation, and, with a full realization of the sentiment, read aloud or recite such selections as the following:

Selection illustrating Normal Quality.

NOTE. When the illustrative selection contains a great predominance of the element under consideration, the lines are unmarked; but when a few words of the selection illustrate the particular element in question they will be underscored.

A SECOND TRIAL

SARAH WINTER KELLOGG

It was Commencement at one of our colleges. The people were pouring into the church as I entered it, rather tardy. Finding the choice seats in the center of the audience room already taken, I

pressed forward, looking to the right and to the left for a vacancy. On the very front row of seats I found one.

Here a little girl moved along to make room for me, looking into my face with large gray eyes, whose brightness was softened by very long lashes. Her face was open and fresh as a newly blown rose before sunrise. Again and again I found my eyes turning to the roselike face, and each time the gray eyes moved, half smiling, to meet mine. Evidently the child was ready to "make up" with me. And when, with a bright smile, she returned my dropped handkerchief, and I said, “Thank you!" we seemed fairly introduced. Other persons, now coming into the seat, crowded me quite close up against the little girl, so that we soon felt very well acquainted. "There's going to be a great crowd," she said to me.

"Yes," I replied; "people always like to see how school boys are made into men.'

Her face beamed with pleasure and pride as she said: “My brother's going to graduate; he's going to speak; I've brought these flowers to throw to him."

They were not greenhouse favorites; just old-fashioned domestic flowers, such as we associate with the dear grandmothers; “but," I thought, "they will seem sweet and beautifui to him for little sister's sake.

"That is my brother," she went on, pointing with her nosegay. "The one with the light hair?" I asked.

"Oh, no,” she said, smiling and shaking her head in innocent reproof; "not that homely one; that handsome one with brown wavy hair. His eyes look brown, too; but they are not - they are dark blue. There! he's got his hand up to his head now. You see him, don't you?"

In an eager way she looked from me to him, and from him to me, as if some important fate depended upon my identifying her brother.

"I see him," I said. "He's a very good-looking brother."

Yes, he is beautiful," she said, with artless delight; "and he's so good, and he studies so hard. He has taken care of me ever since mamma died. Here is his name on the programme. He is not the valedictorian, but he has an honor, for all that."

I saw in the little creature's familiarity with these technical college terms that she had closely identified herself with her brother's studies, hopes, and successes.

"His oration is a real good one, and he says it beautifully. He has said it to me a great many times. I 'most know it by heart. Oh! it begins so pretty and so grand. This is the way it begins, " she added, encouraged by the interest she must have seen in my face: "Amid the permutations and combinations of the actors and the forces which make up the great kaleidoscope of history, we often find that a turn of Destiny's hand—” ”

"Why, bless the baby!" I thought, looking down into her bright, proud face. I can't describe how very odd and elfish it did seem to have those big words rolling out of the smiling, childish mouth.

As the exercises progressed, and approached nearer and nearer the effort on which all her interest was concentrated, my little friend became excited and restless. Her eyes grew larger and brighter, two deep red spots glowed on her cheeks.

"Now, it's his turn,” she said, turning to me a face in which pride and delight and anxiety seemed about equally mingled. But when the overture was played through, and his name was called, the child seemed, in her eagerness, to forget me and all the earth beside him. She rose to her feet and leaned forward for a better view of her beloved, as he mounted to the speaker's stand. I knew by her deep breathing that her heart was throbbing in her throat. I knew, too, by the way her brother came up the steps and to the front that he was trembling. The hands hung limp; his face was pallid, and the lips blue as with cold. I felt anxious. The child, too, seemed to discern that things were not well with him. Something like fear showed in her face.

He made an automatic bow. Then a bewildered, struggling look came into his face, then a helpless look, and then he stood staring vacantly, like a somnambulist, at the waiting audience. The moments of painful suspense went by, and still he stood as if struck dumb. I saw how it was; he had been seized with stage fright.

Alas! little sister! She turned her large, dismayed eyes upon me. "He's forgotton it," she said. Then a swift change came

into her face; a strong, determined look; and on the funeral-like silence of the room broke the sweet, brave child-voice: "Amid the permutations and combinations of the actors and the forces which make up the great kaleidoscope of history, we often find that a turn of Destiny's hand —' '

Everybody about us turned and looked. The breathless silence; the sweet, childish voice; the childish face; the long, unchildlike words, produced a weird effect.

But the help had come too late; the unhappy brother was already staggering in humiliation from the stage. The band quickly struck up, and waves of lively music rolled out to cover the defeat.

I gave the little sister a glance in which I meant to show the intense sympathy I felt; but she did not see me. Her eyes, swimming with tears, were on her brother's face. I put my arm around her, but she was too absorbed to heed the caress, and before I could appreciate her purpose, she was on her way to the shamestricken young man sitting with a face like a statue's.

When he saw her by his side the set face relaxed, and a quick mist came into his eyes. The young men got closer together to make room for her. She sat down beside him, laid her flowers on his knee, and slipped her hand in his.

I could not keep my eyes from her sweet, pitying face. I saw her whisper to him, he bending a little to catch her words. Later, I found out that she was asking him if he knew his "piece" now, and that he answered "Yes."

When the young man next on the list had spoken, and while the band was playing, the child, to the brother's great surprise, made her way up the stage steps, and pressed through the throng of professors and trustees and distinguished visitors, up to the college president.

"If you please, sir," she said with a little courtesy, "will you and the trustees let my brother try again? He knows his piece now."

For a moment the president stared at her through his goldbowed spectacles, and then, appreciating the child's petition, he smiled on her, and went down and spoke to the young man who had failed.

So it happened that when the band had again ceased playing, it was briefly announced that Mr. - would now deliver his oration, "Historical Parallels."

A ripple of heightened and expectant interest passed over the audience, and then all sat stone still, as though fearing to breathe lest the speaker might again take fright. No danger? The hero in the youth was aroused. He went at his "piece" with a set purpose to conquer, to redeem himself, and to bring the smile back into the child's tear-stained face. I watched the face during the speaking. The wide eyes, the parted lips, the whole rapt being said that the breathless audience was forgotten, that her spirit was moving with his.

And when the address was ended with the ardent abandon of one who catches enthusiasm in the realization that he is fighting down a wrong judgment and conquering a sympathy, the effect was really thrilling. That dignified audience broke into rapturous applause; bouquets intended for the valedictorian rained like a tempest. And the child, the child who had helped to save the day, — that one beaming little face, in its pride and gladness, is something to be forever remembered.

SECTION II. OROTUND QUALITY

The Orotund is a clear, smooth, voluminous Quality, the resonance of which is in the upper part of the chest. It has the purity of the Normal but is larger in volume and greater in strength. As a manifestation of our being it carries all the mentality of the Normal with the added vitality of this the strongest of Qualities; so it represents both the Mental and Vital natures. It is heard in nature in the roar of the ocean, the sound of thunder, the booming of distant cannon, and the low, deep tones of the pipe organ. As an agent of expression it is used to convey thoughts and emotions of a sublime and lofty nature, such as reverence, sublimity, grandeur, patriotism, lofty oratorical thought, courage, defiance, and alarm.