e childhood
stage of evolution, are immensely susceptible to the sway of rhythm, and
in their weird dances to the beating of the Tom-toms accompany their
antics with a crooning or chanting, which no doubt to them stands in the
place of song.

Was there ever a mother who did not croon to her fretful child, and who
did not rock her babe to sleep with rhythmic lullaby? Song spans the
gap from mother Eve to the mother of to-day: the song may vary, though
the emotion of the mother-love remains the same. This crooning, with its
element of soothing monotony, it is interesting to note is distinctly
hypnotic in its effect, for the sleep of hypnosis is definitely induced
by monotonous stimulation of any of the senses. The rocking and crooning
on the part of the mother are quite akin, though unconsciously so, to
the approved scientific methods. It is also curious that the nature of
the monotonous stimulation does not seem to matter very much, for there
is a case on record where a doctor hypnotised a patient by reciting to
him in a low voice a few verses of "The Walrus and the Carpenter." The
psycho-analysts would probably say that the patient went to sleep in
self-defence. We can well remember how we were lulled to sleep in
earliest days to the following somewhat fearsome and original words sung
to the tune of a popular hymn:--

"Bye, bye, bye, bye,
Horse, pig, cow, sheep,
Rhinoceros, donkey, cat:
Dog, dickie, hippopotamus,
Black-beetle, spider, rat."

From which it appears evident that the actual words used as a soporific
allow considerable latitude of choice.

No doubt Pan piped, and the Nymphs danced to his music in their woodland
groves, much as the poor kiddies in the slums and alleys of our
smoke-ridden towns dance to-day when the Italian organ man comes round
with his instrument. The melody and rhythm float out and call to the
music lying hid in their hearts, and their self responds. Something
within them demands instant expression, and they forget their slums in
dancing their merry measure, till the music stops and the Italian passes
on to raise Fairyland in the next slum. Music has given them a glimpse
of something outside their dull and prosaic surroundings, it has touched
their hearts with a glamour which is a glint of spiritual sunshine in a
drab world.

It was our privilege a dozen years or more ago to have a small share in
the active work of the Art Studies Association of Liverpool. This
o