surable feelings, than of feelings of sadness, although in
the latter case the lamentations and outcries may be more
striking than the harmless humming of a man in good
humour. At any rate, music is the direct and immediate
effect of the feelings of the moment, and this may be seen
with "savages" as well as with "civilised people". I
therefore cannot agree with Mr. Barrow's opinion that
dancing and singing are the immediate effect of pleasurable
feelings, only in the state of very primitive culture, while
among civilised people they are arts which, "acquired by
study (?) and practised at certain times, have no relation
to our feeling". I am almost afraid that Mr. Barrow
mistook the typical piano lesson for the art of music. ¹

A very graphic description of the part that music
plays among the natives of Australia is given by G. Grey:
To a sulky old native, his song is what a quid of tobacco
is to a sailor; if he is angry, he sings; if glad, he sings;
if hungry, he sings; if full, provided he is not so full as to
be in a state of stupor, he sings more lustily than ever. ²
The peculiar character of their songs renders them under
all circumstances most solacing to the natives. The songs
are short, generally containing only one or two ideas,
constantly repeated over and over again, producing much
the same effect that the singing of a nurse does upon a
child. To us these songs seem barbarian and unmelo-
dious, but the Australians like them and have in turn no
appreciation of European music. Should a European
endeavour to perform his music before them, it would be
laughed at "as a combination of silly and effeminate
notes," and for weeks afterwards the natives would
entertain their friends by mimicking the tone and attitude
of the white man, an exhibition which never fails to draw
down loud shouts of applause. Sometimes, however, even
they seem to be moved sympathetically by our music.

-164-