rent tonic. I have found many useful things in a work by your own
Dr. William Mason, _Touch and Technic_. I have used this to a
considerable extent. To my knowledge he was the first to illustrate the
principle of weight, which is now pretty generally accepted here as
well as in Europe.

"An ancient and famous philosopher, Seneca, is said to have remarked
that by the time a man reaches the age of twenty-five, he should know
enough to be his own physician, or he is a fool. We might apply this
idea to the pianist. After studying the piano for a number of years he
should be able to discover what sort of technical exercises are most
beneficial; if he cannot do so he must be a fool. Why should he always
depend on the exercises made by others? There is no end to the list of
method books and technical forms; their name is legion. They are usually
made by persons who invent exercises to fit their own hands; this does
not necessarily mean that they will fit the hands of others. I encourage
my pupils to invent their own technical exercises. They have often done
so with considerable success, and find much more pleasure in them than
in those made by others.

"Two of the most important principles in piano playing are: full, round,
exact tone; distinct phrasing. The most common fault is
indistinctness--slurring over or leaving out notes. Clearness in piano
playing is absolutely essential. If an actor essays the role of Hamlet,
he must first of all speak distinctly and make himself clearly
understood; otherwise all his study and characterization are in vain.
The pianist must likewise make himself understood; he therefore must
enunciate clearly.

VELOCITY

"You speak of velocity as difficult for some players to acquire. I have
found there is a general tendency to play everything too fast, to rush
headlong through the piece, without taking time to make it clear and
intelligible. When the piece is quite clear in tone and phrasing, it
will not sound as fast as it really is, because all the parts are in
just relation to each other. As an illustration of this fact, there is a
little Gavotte of mine, which I had occasion to play several times in
Paris. A lady, a very good pianist, got the piece, learned it, then came
and asked me to hear her play it. She sat down to the piano, and rushed
through the piece in a way that so distorted it I could hardly recognize
it. When she finished I remonstrated, but she assured me that her tempo
was e