folk-dances of Spain, in Gipsy, Hungarian and Russian popular music, and an entirely novel form. They have, to be sure, been working for a livelihood, but in that respect they have only followed the excellent precedent established by Offenbach, Richard Strauss, and Puccini. Bernard Shaw has probably made a great deal more money than Henry Arthur Jones, but no one thinks of calling him less of an artist than Mr. Jones for that reason. Zuloaga sells his portraits at very high rates; is he therefore to be considered less seriously than a portrait-painter in Greenwich Village who gives his canvases
genue Baby. For an encore, Mme. Gauthier added Gershwin's Do It Again. Gershwin himself played very brilliant accompaniments for these songs. I think, speaking historically, that this was the first time in America that a singer had included modern jazz numbers in a serious recital program. It is possible, however, that it had been done before in Paris. Paul Whiteman, too, has made a serious effort to glorify jazz. He was one of the first to perceive the advantage of arranging these numbers with symphonic scoring, making the most, as well, of effects peculiar to the jazz orchestra, such as covering the bell of a cornet with a hat, or augmenting the sound of a trumpet with a megaphone. Whiteman's orchestra, unlike most jazz bands, plays from score and does not depend on improvisation for its results. Even the paltriest tune, orchestrated by Ferdie Grofé, with infinite ingenuity and a profusion of novel colour and harmonic effects, and performed with the precision and beautiful tone quality possessed by this band, and with the fire put into it by their inspired leader, becomes important enough to listen to with pleasure. The brasses and woodwinds in this band are superior to those in any other orchestra with which
