By and by, gentlemen, we will talk about it further over a cup of tea.

(_Lizzie refuses to play._)

DOMINIE. Mr. Shepard, let Lizzie play a few scales or some chords; a few
finger exercises, or some easy dance without notes.

SHEPARD. She has nothing of that kind ready. You see I always take up
one piece after another, and have each one played as well as I can; she
repeats the difficult parts, I write the proper fingering over them, and
am very particular that she does not use the wrong fingers. I have taken
a great deal of pains, and quite worn myself out over the lessons.
Lizzie does the same, and practises her pieces two hours a day;
but--but--

(_Lizzie goes away with Emma._)

DOMINIE. Mr. Shepard, with the best intentions in the world, you will
never accomplish your end. Even if Miss Lizzie is only to play as an
amateur, and is not intended for any thing higher, for which in fact she
has not sufficient talent, you must pay some attention beforehand to the
acquirement of a correct tone, and get rid of this robin-red-breast
touch; and you must then endeavor, by scales and exercises of every
kind, to give to her hands and fingers so much firmness, decision, and
dexterity, that she can master her pieces, at least with a certain
distinct tone and a tolerable touch. You are not less in error in the
choice of her pieces, which are far too difficult,--a fault of most
teachers, even with the most skilful pupils. The pieces which your
pupils are to execute should be below their mechanical powers; for,
otherwise, the struggle with difficulties robs the player of all