whole tone of Artot's violin differs from Bull's. I felt they must not be
compared, and so listened delightedly, but with a pale, ghastly joy. When
I heard Ole, I could not sleep. It was like a fire shining out of heaven,
sudden and bright. It kindled within me flames which seek heaven,
disturbed the surface of my soul, evoking spirits out of that depth I did
not know were there, and it was as if a thousand hopes, which were the
substance and object of memory, rose out of their graves and held long
vigil with me in those silent hours. How few of us can keep our balance
when a regal soul dashes by. I presently recover myself, and serve with a
milder and firmer persistence my own nature. The way is made clearer by
these bright lights, universal nature shines fairer that there are so many
single stars; but they must only be stars in my heaven and fires upon my
hearth, nor burn out my heart by inserting themselves in my bosom.

The next night I went to hear Ole Bull again at the Tabernacle, which
holds 3000 persons. The doors were open at 6, the concert began at 8. At
quarter-past 6 the house was full, and at 7 was jammed, and hundreds went
away. I arrived too late, but was so satisfied at the triumph that I went
gladly home again, pleased to be one who could not hear.

Last evening I heard the "Stabat." Castellan has a magnificent voice. Does
she not lack passion? She certainly needs cultivation. The symphony was
merely a musical picture of the battle--a battle of Prague for the
orchestra! It begins with a drum, a bugle-call follows; a march--and what
march do you think? "Malbrook." Imagine me, a fervid worshipper of
Beethoven, rushing in the crowd to hear a symphony wherein, with all
orchestral force, the old song, L-a-w, Law, was banged into my ears. I sat
in motionless dismay, while there followed another trumpeting and drumming
and marching and imitations of musketry by some watchman's rattle. Then
came some good passages, which confounded me only the more. Then, "God