ism on this concert programme shows that Mr. J. C.
Bartlett, the tenor, was "fine"; Miss Bell Temple, reader, was "good";
Mr. Wulf Fries, the 'cellist, was "elegant"; and Mr. Drake, the pianist,
was "nice," as usual.

These two concerts were followed by further careful study under Mrs.
Long, and then at last came the eventful night when I made my real debut
in Boston at the annual recital given by her pupils. I shall never
forget the date, Tuesday evening, May 26, 1896. I was fourteen at the
time, having celebrated my birthday in February. The recital took place
in Association Hall, and I wore a simple little white dress with green
trimmings. On the programme of this memorable event, carefully pasted in
a scrapbook by my mother, I find this comment written in my own hand:
"This is what I made my debut in, very calm and sedate, not the least
nervous."

Following my critical tendencies at the other concerts, I find the
programme of this first recital filled with marginal comments. Most of
my remarks were very flattering to my fellow pupils. Concerning Miss
Leveroni, who afterward studied abroad and returned to America to sing
with Henry Russell's grand opera company, I wrote: "Very nice,
gestures natural." Others were "pretty good," "very fine," or "very
nervous," and only one pupil was criticized as "Bad, off key."

[Illustration: CALVE AS CARMEN]

The Boston newspapers always gave extended notices to the recitals of
Mrs. Long's pupils, and this was no exception. I was mentioned
favorably, but it remained for the dear old "Melrose Reporter" to give
me a most extraordinary and almost prophetic criticism. I quote from the
newspaper clipping so carefully preserved by my mother:--

The Cavatina from "Il Barbiere," sung by Miss Geraldine Farrar,
will interest those in Melrose who were not able to attend the
recital. For many months musical people have waited the gradual
development of this phenomenal voice, a God-given power which the
child has sent forth with a freedom, compass, and quality that has
demanded the admiration of our best Boston critics. Notwithstanding
the florid and extreme difficulties of the Cavatina, the execution
and reserved force, absolutely fresh and firm for each attack, was
a triumph and a revelation of tone power. She sang without notes,
and embraced the beautiful flowers showered upon her, as
unconscious of her success as though she had sto