r. Accordingly, at eight I was
possessed of a fiddle. This meant more to me than all the dolls in the
world. Oh, how I loved that violin, which I could make speak just by
drawing a bow over it! There was something worth while.

I was only as big as a minute, and, of course, as soon as I could play
the routine things of de Beriot, variations and the like, I was
considered one of those abominable things, "an infant prodigy."

I was brought out to play for friends and any musical person who could
stand it. Then I gave a concert, and my father saw the finger of destiny
pointing to my career as a great violinist.

To me the finger of destiny pointed the other way; because I immediately
sickened of the violin and dropped it forever. Yes, I could play now if
I had to, but you probably wouldn't want to hear me.

Ah, but I do play. I play every time I sing. The violin taught me the
need for perfect intonation, fluency in execution, ever so many things.

Then came the piano. Here was a new artistic toy. I worked very hard
with it. My sister and I went back to Aberdeen for a season of private
school, and I kept up my piano until I could play acceptably many of
the best-known compositions, Grieg, Chopin, etc., being my favorites. I
was never a very fine pianist, understand me, but the piano unlocked the
doors to thousands of musical treasure houses--admitted me to musical
literature through the main gate, and has been of invaluable aid to me
in my career. See my fingers, how long and thin they are--of course, I
was a capable pianist--long, supple fingers, combined with my musical
experience gained in violin playing, made that certain.

Then I dropped the piano. Dropped it at once. Its possibilities stood
revealed before me, and they were not to be the limit of my ambitions.

For the girl who hopes to be an operatic "star" there could be nothing
better than a good drilling in violin or piano. The girl has no business
to sing while she is yet a child--and she is that until she is sixteen
or over. Better let her work hard getting a good general education and a
good musical education. The voice will keep, and it will be sweeter and
fresher if it is not overused in childhood.

Once, with my heart set upon becoming a singer, my father fortunately
took me to Mrs. Robinson Duff, of Chicago. To her, my mentor to this
day, I owe much of my vocal success. I was very young and very
emotional, with a long pigtail down my back. At first t