akes. He should never fear of being called a high-brow--but not the
kind in Prof. Brander Matthews' definition. John L. Sullivan was a
"high-brow" in his art. A high-brow can always whip a low-brow.

If he "truly seeks," he "will surely find" many things to sustain him.
He can go to a part of Alcott's philosophy--"that all occupations of
man's body and soul in their diversity come from but one mind and
soul!" If he feels that to subscribe to all of the foregoing and then
submit, though not as evidence, the work of his own hands is
presumptuous, let him remember that a man is not always responsible for
the wart on his face, or a girl for the bloom on her cheek, and as they
walk out of a Sunday for an airing, people will see them--but they must
have the air. He can remember with Plotinus, "that in every human soul
there is the ray of the celestial beauty," and therefore every human
outburst may contain a partial ray. And he can believe that it is
better to go to the plate and strike out than to hold the bench down,
for by facing the pitcher, he may then know the umpire better, and
possibly see a new parabola. His presumption, if it be that, may be but
a kind of courage juvenal sings about, and no harm can then be done
either side. "Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator."

8

To divide by an arbitrary line something that cannot be divided is a
process that is disturbing to some. Perhaps our deductions are not as
inevitable as they are logical, which suggests that they are not
"logic." An arbitrary assumption is never fair to all any of the time,
or to anyone all the time. Many will resent the abrupt separation that
a theory of duality in music suggests and say that these general
subdivisions are too closely inter-related to be labeled
decisively--"this or that." There is justice in this criticism, but our
answer is that it is better to be short on the long than long on the
short. In such an abstruse art as music it is easy for one to point to
this as substance and to that as manner. Some will hold and it is
undeniable--in fact quite obvious--that manner has a great deal to do
with the beauty of substance, and that to make a too arbitrary
division, or distinction between them, is to interfere, to some extent,
with an art's beauty and unity. There is a great deal of truth in this
too. But on the other hand, beauty in music is too often confused with
something that lets the ears lie back in an easy chair. Many sounds
th