I am in doubt whether to put Curtis who has just been here, under the head of music or lectures. His voice and Wendell Phillips' are, I believe, the most wonderful in the world and so unlike! Curtis is always sad, there is pathos even in his fun, but Phillips is full of victory. A violin in the hands of a master, pleads sometimes like Curtis, but only a comet or a trumpet can reach the exultant purity and sweetness of Phillips' voice. You must have sometimes seen how the nearer clouds drifting across a dark western sky, have been lighted into sweet misty crimson and rose-color by the sunset, that is the color of Curtis' voice; Phillips' is like the deep pure gold of the sunset itself, clear, steady and unfathomable, not lighted, but aglow with its own life.