enlarge our capacity for it.

Because we are born with taste unformed and untrained you can at once
see the reason for gradually increasing the tasks. They are always a
little more difficult--like going up a mountain--but they give a finer
and finer view. The outlook from the mountain-top cannot be had all at
once. We must work our way upward for it. Hence you will observe in
your lessons that what was once a fitting task is no longer of quite
the same value because of your increased power. But about this
especially we shall have a Talk later on.

When one has heard much music of all kinds, one soon begins to
understand that there are two kinds commonly chosen. Some players
choose true music with pure thought in it, and do their best to play
it well after the manner called for by the composer. Their aim is to
give truthful expression to the music of a good writer. Other players
seem to work from a motive entirely different. They select music which
is of a showy character, with much brilliancy and little thought in
it. Their aim is not to show what good music is, but to show
themselves. The desire of the first is truth, of the second is vanity.

Now, as we examine into this, and into both kinds of music, we
discover much. It proves that we must work for the best; for the
truthful music, not for the vain music. As we get better acquainted
with true music we find it more and more interesting--it keeps saying
new things to us. We go to it again and again, getting new meanings.
But the showy music soon yields all it has; we find little or nothing
more in it than at first. As it was made not from good thought but for
display, we cannot find newer and more beautiful thought in it, and
the display soon grows tiresome. True music is like the light in a