tends to constipate the bowels. Gin or whiskey is the most wholesome spirit, but take as little as possible of either. If you drink beer or stout, take draught and not bottled, and always in great moderation. All effervescing liquors are objectionable; therefore eschew champagne, Moselle, bottled ale and stout, et hoc genus omne. The fluids called port and sherry are cruel foes to singing. A glass of good port is a fair medicine in certain cases, and the same may be said of very dry Amontillado, but if you have nothing the matter with you, avoid port and (so-called) sherry—especially the hideous compound of alcohol and molasses known as "brown" sherry—as you would poison.

The best drink for singers is claret, or any light wine, French, German, or Italian. I myself find the latter on the whole the best, and such wines as Barolo Secco or Chianté are pure and cheap, and contain all the properties necessary for a singer's beverage. But in this as in all else, moderation is a sine quâ non. Fluids are apt to produce congestion or mucus in the throat and glands of the mouth, and that of course interferes with the free action of the muscles in singing.

Smoking.—As a general rule it may be laid down that smoking is a bad habit for the singer, male or female (for there are females who are proud of being able to smoke cigarettes nowadays!). With many instances of great singers who have also been great smokers before us, it is impossible to say decidedly that singers must not smoke; but the habit is one to be very cautiously indulged in. If smoking in any case induces expectoration, it should at once be given up, for the habit of spitting, to which some smokers allow themselves (quite needlessly) to give way, is, in reality, the greatest evil of smoking; it weakens the throat, lungs, and chest. If a man can smoke without spitting or drinking, I confess that I am no great enemy to tobacco; but the "if" is a big one.

A cigarette is certainly a safeguard against taking cold in coming out of a hot room into the open air, especially after singing; but strong cigars or strong tobacco in pipes are to be avoided, because of their effect on the nerves.

Late Hours.—Avoid late hours. You require, not only a certain amount of sleep, but to take that sleep before the body and mind are at all overtaxed. From many causes, it is well known, the human frame is always at its lowest from about 2 a.m. till 5 a.m., and the nearer you approach those hours in going to bed, the less able are you to derive all the benefit which you require from sleep. Twelve o'clock is late enough for any one.

Another reason why late hours are bad is connected not with physical facts so much as with morals. It is true, you may come to no actual harm, or get into no positive mischief, by being out late at night, but you place yourself in a position of risk—risk of cold, over-fatigue, inhaling vitiated atmosphere, &c., as well as risk to moral character, which latter, in its way as delicate as the voice, is injured not only by actual violation of right, but by all society, conversation, and literature which tend to dim its brightness, or (to use another metaphor) to spoil the purity of its outline by roughly knocking off its corners. At all events, as to the night side of "Life," you are better out of it.

Morality.—Nothing can act more prejudicially upon a singer than those influences which are understood by that very inclusive term, a "fast" life. I would, therefore, urge upon the student the necessity of a religious avoidance of those influences. They dull the purity of thought which marks all true art; they deaden the intellect which art requires; and they injure the physical powers, without which all a singer's study may be suddenly rendered useless to him. All excess is bad, and self-restraint and self-control are of the greatest importance both to character and health. Many an anxious student has mastered the musical side of his art, but has failed under the rigid demands which the moral code makes upon an intending singer. It is of no use for a singer to be strong musically, and weak morally: the two preparations must go hand-in-hand; and while building up a structure of vocal greatness, his care must always be that the moral foundation will always support the weight of persistent study, and leave him favourably placed in the stern competition going on around him for a front place in the race for singing fame, and the inevitable honours. Keep these hints in mind, think them carefully over, and be your own moral doctor. That will be better than following any code of cut and dried rules. If you err at all, let it be on the side of self-denial, the hardest and probably the highest of all virtues.

ON THE STUDY OF PRONUNCIATION AND "WORDS" IN SINGING, &c.

The singer has to combine the arts of the musician, the public speaker, and, to a certain extent, the actor. Clearness of pronunciation and correctness of emphasis are included in the range of his study. Nor are these so easy of acquirement as many persons suppose. To a novice, the almost inevitable nervousness inseparable from the prominent position which a solo singer necessarily holds in the company, or before the audience to which he is singing, is very apt to render the enunciation less distinct and more rapid than is natural to him. His ear guides him less safely; and, in fact, every sense, influenced by the abnormal state of his nerves, is apt to play him more or less false. It is only by having carefully studied and mastered every detail of manner, posture, and speech, as well as of the music to be performed, that a singer can rise superior to the treachery of his nerves, in whatever form that treachery may show itself.

Nervousness.—A few words as to nervousness. You will often hear persons boast that they are not the least nervous in public; and, perhaps, will feel inclined to envy them. Get rid of any such notion at once. If by "nervous" is meant "frightened," that is another thing altogether; and it is perfectly true that there are hundreds of persons who are not in the least afraid of appearing in public, nor affected by timidity when so appearing. But fear is only one form of nervousness. I firmly believe that it is impossible for a real artist ever to appear in public without being nervous. But the nerves act in many ways: the fervour of an eloquent speaker carried away by his subject; the "abandon" of a fine actor thoroughly entering into his part and identifying himself with it; the sustained energy of a declamatory singer; the faultless and unerring agility of a florid soprano, who astonishes her hearers by wonder on wonder of execution—all these things are due, in their subtle charm, to nervousness—i.e. to delicate nervous organization in active play. These artists are not frightened, it is true, but excited, stimulated, roused from the normal state of eating, walking, and sleeping; something of the spiritual kindles the mere physical forces in them—some breath of inspiration sustains that living power which so influences the hearers. In some way or other every great artist is always nervous; were it not so, the essence of their power would vanish. Persons of cold and phlegmatic temperament lack the very life-breath of art; and though they may train themselves into fair imitations of some great artists, they will generally be detected with ease, by any hearer of true sensibility, as imitations, not the real thing. Therefore do not be ashamed to admit that you are nervous, if it be so. Nerves are a cruel master, but a splendid servant; instead of letting them overcome you, force them to do your bidding; and instead of "nervousness"