l difficulties do not
exist for him. He has come to the last turning of the road; before him
rise the heights of supreme spiritual mastery. A touch that is limpid,
clear, and capable of many gradations of tints; splendid power in
_fortissimo_; delicacy, velocity and variety are all his; together with
all this he has a sympathetic insight into the mood and meaning of the
composer. Of late he has been giving several recitals of a semi-private
nature, at which he has brought out some of the larger works in his
repertoire. These recitals have taken place in his charming studios, and
it was my good fortune to be present when two concertos were played, the
MacDowell in D minor, and the Grieg in A minor. Mr. Burnham is a warm
admirer of the works of our great American composer, and has prepared an
entire program of MacDowell's music, which included the Tragica Sonata,
Polonaise, and many of the shorter pieces.

In a conversation with Mr. Burnham in regard to methods of teaching, he
gave many helpful points, explaining how he had reduced technical
difficulties to a minimum through the exercise of a few simple
principles.

PRINCIPLES OF TOUCH

"The position and condition of the hand varies according to the
character of the music, and the tone you wish to produce. If you give
out a melody, you want a full, luscious tone, the weight of arm on the
key, everything relaxed, and a clinging, caressing pressure of finger.
Here then, you have the 'Melody Hand,' with outstretched, flat fingers.
If, on the contrary, you want rapid passage work, with clear, bright,
articulate touch, the hand must stand up in well-arched, normal playing
position, with fingers well rounded and good finger action. Here you
have the 'Technical' or 'Coloratura Hand.'

MELODY HAND

"The Melody Hand is weighty and 'dead,' so to speak. The touch is made
with flat fingers; the ball of the finger comes in contact with the key,
the whole arm, hand and fingers are relaxed--as loose as possible. You
caress the keys as though you loved them, as though they were a very
part of you; you cling to them as to something soft, velvety or
downy--with pressure, pressure, pressure, always."

(This illustration recalled to the listener's mind one of Kitty
Cheatham's stories, the one about the little girl caressing a pet
kitten. She was asked which she loved best--her mother or the kitten.
"Of course I love her best," was the rather hesitating answer; "but I
love kitty