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Updated: June 3, 2025


A glance, brilliant as daybreak a voice, "Her voice's music, call it the well's bubbling, the bird's warble,"

A woman like a dew-drop she was purer than the purest, And her noble heart the noblest, yes, and her sure faith the surest; And her eyes were dark and humid like the depth in depth of lustre Hid i' the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier than the wild grape's cluster, Gushed in raven-tinted plenty down her cheeks' rose-tinted marble; Then her voice's music call it the well's bubbling, the bird's warble.

She said that she knew I was much too simple a girl to give the devil a hold on me ... My progress, by the voice's own order, was kept a secret between the voice, Mamma Valerius and myself. It was a curious thing, but, outside the dressing-room, I sang with my ordinary, every-day voice and nobody noticed anything. I did all that the voice asked.

There were hills which garnished their proud heights with stately trees: humble vallies, whose base estate seemed comforted with the refreshing of silver rivers: medowes, enameled with all sorts of eie pleasing flowers; thickets, which being lined with most pleasant shade, were witnessed so too, by the cheerfull disposition of manie well tuned birds: each pasture stored with sheep feeding with sober securitie, while the prettie lambes with bleating oratorie craved the dammes comfort: here a shepheards boy piping, as though he should never be old: there a young shepheardesse knitting, and withall singing, and it seemed that her voice comforted her hands to worke, and her hands kept time to her voice's musick.

The silence which ensued was broken by Mrs. Postlethwaite: "She will live this poor Helena how long?" she asked, with no break in her voice's wonted music. The doctor hesitated, then with a candour hardly to be expected from him, answered: "I do not understand Miss Postlethwaite's case. I should like, with your permission, to consult some New York physician." "Indeed!"

"So that window was open alla time," thought Racey as he prudently waited for the owner of the voice in the other room to discover himself. But this the voice's owner did not immediately do. Racey could not understand why he did not shoot while the two men were struggling through the window. Lord knows he had plenty of time and opportunity.

Suffice it to say here that the old masters did not refer the registers to changes in the laryngeal action. They were treated simply as different qualities of tone, each quality best adapted to be sung only in a portion of the voice's compass. In the early decades of the nineteenth century the registers of the voice received much attention from vocal theorists, especially in Paris.

And he perfected the picture that he desired her to see by the assurance he gave murmurously from the darkness of the open door. "Get well soon.... You needn't be afraid of me. We made a bargain. I mean to stick to it." He had caught the very tune that dogged sincerity plays on the voice's chords. She lay happy after he had gone because she and her child had so true a friend.

It certainly was strange the way Bucky's pulse quickened and his blood tingled when he touched the little fellow and heard that velvet voice's soft murmur. Yes, it surely was strange, but perhaps the young Irishman's explanation was not the correct one, after all. The cause he offered to himself for this odd joy and tender excitement was perfectly simple.

It is necessary only that the student sing his daily exercises and listen to his voice. The voice's own instinct will lead it gradually to the perfect action. Nothing need be substituted for mechanical instruction. Present methods of Voice Culture will be in every way complete, they will leave nothing to be desired, when the mechanical idea is abandoned.

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