Music: In Chicago

Amelita Galli-Curci sang farewell. Thunderous applause mixed with tears of regret at her departure—not so much for her brilliant coloratura airs, bedizened with strings of pearly scale-flights, as for the glamor which the purity of her tone cast over her simplest encore-ditties. That was perhaps most people's idea of what the "song of the nightingale" should be.

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