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Would that I were enough of a botanist to describe flutes and Flageolets occasionally filled them! But there, in the helge, is the singular the whole room with their naive, childish tree of the Three Dresses! First it cometh forth strains. like a fairy, all in a garb of green, covered from All appeared very comfortable; when, on top to toe, with a leafy robe of that loveliest color ;
il a sudden, the morose Contra- basso, accompresently, ere many weeks have passed, it suddenly droppeth its emerald raiment, and, all |
Upanied by a couple of kindred Violoncellos, leatless and barren, appeareth in deep mourning,
| burst into the room, and threw himself pasa black and funereal thing: by-and-bye, however, sionately into the director's chair. Then did buds of unseen flowers deck the squalid' branches, the Pianoforte, together with all the catgut and lo! all at once, in one night, arrayed in a instruments present, involuntarily sound in stole of scarlet glory, our cardinal of trees--a accord from terror. vegetable Proteus-blazes forth upon the sight, " It were enough,” he exclaimed, “to play a tree of harmless lightning! It has just assumed the deuce with me, if such compositions its third costume; and that hedge looks, in the were to be given daily. Here am I, just distance, like an avenue of fire. There is not a come from the rehearsal of a symphony of one green leaf nor brown bud to vary the crimson
of our newest composers; and, although, as splendor of its pride ; for every capsule has burst forth into a blossom of unexampled brilliancy.
is known, I possess a pretty powerful nature This tree is the Butea frondosa.
| I could scarce hold it out longer. The Yonder, in the corner, near the margin of the strings of my body ran a risk of being torn neglected bowry (reader, bowry is not a little for ever! If any more such work goes on, bower, but a large well), are the apples of the racy
I will positively turn Kit, and gain my livelitomata. Beside them, in dangerous proximity, hood by the performance of Muller and droop the superb corollæ of the deadly stramo- Kauer's dances!"" nium--so nearly neighbored are the useful and the hurtful in this world! Here, close to the ver
First Violoncello (wiping the perspiration anda, is another poisonous plant of extreme beauty; from his brow) —“ Certainly, old dad is it is thorny, its leaves resembling those of a thistle ; right; I am so fatigued that, since the opera but they are of a delicate sea-green, and each of Cherubini, I don't recollect any such stalk is surmounted by a flower, which is a per- échauffement !" fect gem of elegance. It is of bright yellow, ! All the instruments together.-“Explain! looking like a golden chalice; has six petals sur- explain!" rounding many stamens and pistils, for the plant Second Violoncello. ---- What! the symis polyandrous; while a pyramidal germen is phony ? It is inexplicable, and unendurable. crowned by a ruby-colored stigma. It is the Ar
According to the principles my divine master, gemone Mexicana, and it is said that the Bheels and wild septs of our Northern Circars poison
Romberg, instilled into me, the production their kreeses and arrows with a preparation from
we have just executed is a sort of musical its viscid juice In spite of its winning beauty,
| monster, which can boast of no other merit than the weed exhales a fetid odor, indicative of its originality! Why, it makes us climb up hurtful propensities.
aloft like violins."
First Violoncello (interrupting him petHARMONY RUN MAD,
tishly).—“ As if we could not do it as well!' A WRINKLE FROM GERMANY.
A Violin.--"Let each class keep within
its due bounds." COMPLETELY SATISFIED with the per-| Bass Viol.-" Aye, or what will remain for formance of a symphony which I had just me to do? I who stand between the two?" heard -as well as with an excellent dinner, First Violoncello._“Oh, you are out of the I fell asleep ; and beheld myself, in a dream, question ! Your ability is only to support suddenly transported back into the concert | us, or to produce a few quavers and turns ; room. Here I found the whole of the in- as, for instance, in the Pelican ; but as to struments in motion-holding grand council, what regards fine tone—" under the presidency of the sweet-breathed Oboe. _“None can compete with me, in Hautboy.
that respect." To the right, a party had arranged them- Clarionet. — “Madam, you will surely selves ; consisting of a Viol d'amour, Viol di allow us to notice our talents !". Gamba, Flute, &c. Each of these sounded Flute.-." Yes; for marches and festivals." melancholy complaints as to the degeneracy Bassoon.--" Who resembles the divine of the present era of music. To the left, tenore more than I ?" the Lady Hautboy was haranguing a circle Horn.-“Why, you surely won't pretend of Clarionettes and Flutes, both young and to so much delicacy and power as I have ? ” old, with and without keys. In the centre Pianoforte (with dignity).—“And what is was the courtly Pianoforte, attended by all this, coinpared to the body of harmony several graceful Violins, who had formed possessed by me? Whilst you are, severally, themselves after Pleyel and Gironetz. The parts of a whole,' I am, all-sufficient." Trumpets and Horns formed a drinking con- 'All the others (vociferously).-"Hold your clave in the corner; while the Piccolo- | tongue! you cannot even hold a single note."
WELCOME, SWEET MAY !
Trumpets and Kettle Drums (noisily).-. “Silence! hear us. What, pray, would be the effect of any composition without Our assistance ? Unless we spoke, there would be no one to applaud."
Flutes.--"Noise suits the vulgar souls ; but the true sublime consists in warbling.”
First Violin.—“And but for my conducting, in what a mess would the whole of you be !"
Contra-Basso. _“But, I flatter myself, I sustain the entire effect. All would be dull and vapid, otherwise."
Omnes (all starting up).-"I alone am the soul ! without me, no harmony would be worth hearing!”
At this moment, the Maitre de Chapelle entered the room; and the several instruments, alarmed (for they knew whose powerful hand could call forth and combine their powers), suddenly went out of tune.
“What !" cried he, “ quarrelling again? The Symphonia Eroica of Beethoven is about to be performed; and every one who can move key or member will then be called upon."
Oh! anything but that !” exclaimed
"Rather," said the Bass Viol, "give us an Italian opera. There, one may occasionally nod.”'
“Nonsense!” replied the Maitre de Chapelle. “Do you imagine that, in these enlightened times, when all rules in art are neglected, a composer will, out of compli. | ment to you, cramp his divine, gigantic, highflying fancies? Regularity and perspicuity are no longer studied, as by the old masters, Gluck, Handel, and Mozart. No! hear the elements of the most recent symphony that I have received from Vienna; and which may serve as a prescription for all future ones. First—a slow movement, full of short, broken ideas, no one of which has the slightest connection with the other. Every ten minutes or so, a few striking chords ; then a muffled rumbling on the kettle-drums, and a mysterious passage or two for the bass viols-all worked up with a due proportion of pauses and stops. Finally, when the audience has just entered into the spirit of the thing, and would as soon expect the archfiend himself as an allegro, a raging tempo; in managing which, the principal consideration is, to avoid following up any particular idea-thus leaving more for the hearer to make out for himself."
Whilst the learued Maitre de Chapelle was thus declaiming, suddenly a string of the guitar (which in reality hung over my head), I snapped, and I awoke, to my no small vexation.
I was, at that time, on the high-road towards becoming a great composer of the NEW SCHOOL!
J. D. HAAS.
Thou Goddess, May! thrice welcome here ;
This is thy natal day,
Clad in their bright array.
Flies forth to meet the Sun,
For winter's reign is done.
Nor heeds these roseate hours !
The Birth-day of the Flowers ! 'Tis said that in the olden times,
This had not wont to be ;
And sounds of Minstrelsy.
Went forth to hail the day;
They met and welcomed May.
A Chaplet for her brow,
Where still she strews them now.
She scatters o'er the dale-
And Lily in the Vale.
Each tree put on its vest;
Where they may hide their nest.
In May's maternal hand,
To gladden British land.
No Flow'rets there are found,
No milkmaids dancing round!
In wreaths of Flow'ry May,
To keep glad holiday.
No merry bells are rung;
No songs of May are sung!
The Cuckoo yet is true!
As he was wont to do;
Just where it stood before ;
It may be wreathed o'er.
To serenade the hours;
The Jubilee of Flowers !
OUR ENEMIES, THE KAFFIRS.
their national character, and has usually
to be found out by some dear-bought exAT THE PRESENT MOMENT, it may not be perience, does not at first sight impress a uninteresting to give our readers a graphic stranger. sketch of the men who have so long been a The common color of the eye is black, or terror to us, but who now have good reason dark brown, somewhat in harmony with that to fear us. The description is furnished by of their skins, which are however darker in the Rev. Francis Fleming, M.A.
some tribes than in others, especially in the In personal appearance and formation, Amampondo and more northerly ones. The the Kaffirs are a race of the most manly and nose also varies in form—in the T'Slambie handsome people known among savages, tribes being broader and more of the negro and in many of their points resemble the shape, than in the Gaikas or Galekas, while New Zealanders. In stature they are gene- among the Abatembu and Amampondo, it rally tall, their beight varying from five feet assumes more of the European character. eight or nine inches to upwards of six feet. In many of them, the perfect Grecian and Their muscular frame is remarkable for Roman noses are discernible. These latter symmetry and beauty, as well as great tribes appear, in all other respects, to strength; but their arms, from want of retain their original nationality of appearproper exercise to develop the muscles ance. (owing probably to their usual indolent mode of life), appear small and disproportioned in
THE ART OF SUCCESS. size to the legs and body.
In all of them the lower limbs are IN EVERYTHING WE DO “ WELL," FAITH strikingly robust and fine, and cases of must be the ladder that raises us up. If we deformity are very rarely to be noticed would progress, let us resolve to please. Noamongst them. Their carriage is stately and thing is more easy, if we set rightly about it. upright-in many even majestic; and this is In all that we undertake, towards whatever particularly observable in their chiefs, whose object we direct our ambition-to please is habitual attitudes of ease, and abrupt yet to succeed, and the art of succeeding is no graceful actions in giving their commands, other than the art of pleasing. are truly elegant and imposing. They are What is it that pleases ? Is it a little man, haughty and proud in their bearing, and or a tall man? Is it a bountiful share of carry the head erect and thrown back. embonpoint, or a slender form? Is it a The left arm is usually laid across the chest, black moustache, or a blonde one with large to support the blanket or kaross, which, whiskers, if one is not in the army, or a face carelessly slung over the left shoulder, is carefully shorn of every hair? Is it a timid their only covering or article of clothing. I look, oř a tempting eve? an air of confiThis, when moving quickly, they gather | dence, or of modesty ? the candor of a young closer around them; and then, throwing the Englishman, or the petulance of a Frenchsecond corner of it over the right shoulder, man, a simple attire, or a dress of magnifithey leave it to hang in negligent folds across Icence ? their fine expansive chests, reminding the To render a woman pleasing, must she beholder much of the Roman toga of old. appear a goddess to our eyes ? Ought she
Their shoulders are square and firmly set, to have ebon locks, or golden tresses ? the and, like the chest, very broad. Their heads nose of Roxalana, or of Aspasia ? a passionless are large, but not disproportioned to their languor, or an impetuous vivacity? Shall bodies, the forehead being elevated and we prefer the warm tint of the Spanish intellectually formed, and in many cases very woman, or the delicate complexion of the high, and finely developed in a phrenological | English woman? point of view. Their hair is woolly, although The reply to all these questions is, that not so thick and matted as in either the every thing pleases in its kind, when you negro or Hottentot races, from whom the find in it that je ne sais quoi which cannot Kaffirs widely differ in all points of personal be expressed, and which makes an impresappearance. Their ears are large, but well sion we know not how. That which pleases, made, and seem generally to have become is not always regular beauty; but never elongated by the weight of their pendant ugliness. It is often maliciousness, but never ear-rings and ornaments. Their features, wickedness; it is at times good-nature, although much varied, are fine-particularly never silliness; it is a modest reserve and the eyes, which are keen and piercing; and, not affected prudery; the abandon of an although always unsteady, wandering and affectionate heart, and not the artful advances stealthy, yet from their large size and great of a coquette ; ingenious sallies, and not brightness, and from their being well set pedantic bon-mots. It is sometimes the under their broad deep brows, the idea of self-love of a giddy youth, never the precunning and deceit, which undoubtedly is sumption of a man vain of his learning. We could continue these antitheses till to his boots, after a walk in the open air at a morrow, and many would be less ridiculous low temperature, and the accumulation of if they spent some hours in considering them condensed vapor which he finds there will attentively. In works of literature, what convince him of the active state of the skin. pleases, is what touches the heart, or amuses I often found my stockings adhering to the the mind, and occupies it without fatiguing soles of my Kilby's boots after a walk of a it. It therefore is not those kind of compo- few hours. The hoar-frost and snow which sitions in which the whimsicality of terms, they contained could not have been there by the use of obsolete expressions, the combi- any other means except exhalation from the nations of the most uncouth words, the skin." amalgamation of the most unsuitable ideas, occasion you all the labor of painful study; or, in which, without suffering you to breathe,
THE POETRY OF GRIEF. picture after picture is presented to the imagination, as if it were not necessary to l. Poetry from the soul of a mourning parent must take time to comprehend what is before our be exquisite; though it requires the lapse of some eyes, in order to be affected by it; in which
interval ere the reality of grief can be suited for, the fogs of the marshes, the ferns, the moon
' and transmuted into poetry.
Dr. Johnson's objection to elegies has some elebeams, the heaths, the meadows, the streams,
ments of truth. A relation or friend will not, in the the burning sands, the birds of the desert,
first troubled moment after the bereavement, think the fowls of the court-yard, the mountains, of pouring out his sorrows in melodious verse. So the streets, the valieys are mixed pell-mell, far we agree with the doctor; but that that friend
the same page, as if one could contemplate cannot afterwards, when the troubled soul is coma hundred points of view at once, and have posed into a melancholy mood, bewail his loss in at the same time eyes to the right and left, song, is egregiously untrue. He may produce the behind and before. Were they as numerous finest elegy without being exposed to the vile
charge of counterfeiting grief. Who would doubt would be insufficient for this; and even then
the sincerity of Milton's attachment to "Lycidas ?" it would require as many minds as eyes!
We should not expect a mother to plant a rose over her son's grave on the day of burial; but if
some weeks afterwards she should do this, would COLD AND THIRST.
she forfeit the character of being an affectionate
mourner? DR. SUTHERLAND, in his “Voyage of the
The broken heart does make melody; and under Lady Franklin and Sophia," gives us some
the immediate and crushing pressure of grief the very interesting particulars of the cause and
harp is hung upon willows. Then, the only vision
whích fills the soul is the cold face-as unsuggestive effects of cold and thirst.
of poetry as a mask. Genius is altogether inactive Captain Penny's party, it appears, had beside the unburied, beloved dead. But when an abundant experience of the intensity of the grief is becoming calm-when it can be studied cold. At one time the temperature fell as well as felt—when the soul is set free from the below the freezing point of Mercury. Nor death chamber, suns itself in the past, and can go is exercise any complete cure for this evil. backwards gleaning fondly the memorials of the Exercise, in what an Arctic voyager would precious life which has been withdrawn, and formcall cold weather, produces extreme thirst ing an image to be cherished as the substitute of and abundant exhalation from the skin,
the lost one,—when thus the process of imaginawhich, of course, freezes in the shape of
e tion is being begun upon the anguish, then flows hoar-frost under the clothes.
freely the exquisite poetry of grief. With reference to this, Dr. Sutherland observes,_"I believe the true cause of such
THE OLD THORN. intense thirst is the extreme dryness of the
BY CHARLES SWAIN. air when the temperature is low. In this state it extracts a large amount of moisture Thou art grey, old thorn, and leaflessfrom the human body. The soft and exten
Leafless, though the Spring be near ; sive surface which the lungs expose, twenty But “my love" hath sat beside thee, five times or oftener every minute, to nearly
And each branch of thine is dear! two hundred cubic inches of dry air, must yield a quantity of vapor which one can
Thou art small, green cot, and humble; hardly spare with impunity. The human
Little in thy looks to cheer; skin throughout its whole extent, even
But my true love dwells within thee, where it is brought to the hardness of horn,
And each stone of thine is dear. as well as the softest and most delicate
Love makes all things sweet and holy, parts, is continually exhaling vapor; and this
All things bright, however drear; exhalation creates, in due proportion, a de All things high, however lowly ; mand for water.
WHAT WERE LIFE WERE LOVE NOT “ Let a person but examine the inside of
A CHILD'S HEART.
We make these few remarks for the pur
pose of introducing a somewhat similar case That heart, methinks. Were of strange mould, which kept no cherish'd print
recorded in “ Villette," an unusually interest Of earlier, bappier times, when life was fresh,
ing novel, by Currer Bell. Here, however, And Luve and IxxocENCE made holiday.
a little girl was the heroine, and her age did HILLHOUSE.
not exceed six years. With her, as with us, ALF THE ENJOYMENTS OF LIFE, “contact” had worked the spell; albeit the
-aye, at least one half of object of her affection-a handsome schoolthem, consist in a retrospect boy, named Graham, was of a cooler tem. of those by-gone happy hours perament than herself. He liked Paulina, when INNOCENCE held pos- but did not love her; whereas she doated on session of our gradually ex- him with all the fondness of a grown-up panding ideas, and we inpul woman.
sively obeyed the dictates and we cannot but believe that this little epipromptings of horiest old NATURE. A las !
sode has its origin in fact. It reads like how soon is an air-tight stopper put upon us, gospel truth. Let us then listen to Miss ere yet we are well out of our nurse's arms! Lucy Snowe, the teacher in the family, whilst No sooner do we begin to ask questions, than she tells us all about Paulina and Mrs. we are silenced by a freezing - H-u-s-h!"
Bretton's handsome son Graham :In spite of this, we are determined to turn over to-day one of the first pages of our Book In the evening, at the moment Graham's of Life, and to let our thoughts find vent in entrance was heard below, I found her at my side. print. There is a charm about little children She began to arrange a locket-riband about my which delights us; and the absence they neck, she displayed and replaced the comb in my evince of all guile causes us often to make | hair. While thus busied, Graham entered. thein our companions, whilst we turn in dis
'Tell him by-and-by,' she whispered; 'tell him gust from the world at large. Little good
| I am going.'
In the course of tea-time, I made the desired fellowship is to be experienced there!
communication. There is nothing in Nature more sus
Polly going? What a pity! Dear little ceptible than the heart of a child, be it in Mousie, I shalí be sorry to lose her. She must boy or girl. Few of us care to inquire come to us again, mamma.' deeply into its joys and sorrows, though And, hastily swallowing his tea, he took a occasionally they will force themselves upon candle and a small table to himself, and his books, us; yet do we all marvel now and then and was soon buried in study. 'Little Mousie at what we both hear and see. If we crept to his side, and lay down on the carpet at would think more, we should know more.
his feet, her face to the floor. Mute and motionWe have been highly delighted of late,
less, she kept that post and position till bed-time. whilst perusing in its progress the trans
Once I saw Graham--wholly unconscious of her lation of the works of Dr. Gall, now
proximity-push her with his restless foot. She
receded an inch or two. A minute after, one little appearing in our pages. We have pondered
pondered | hand stole out from beneath her face, to which it much on his observations of the human had been pressed, and softly caressed the heedless heart in its early stages of life--showing foot. When summoned by her nurse, she rose and how much more “forward," from circum- "departed very obediently, having bade us all a stances, some children's animal passions are subdued good-night. than others-partaking, to a certain extent, of I will not say that I dreaded going to bed an the emotions generally known by adults only. | hour later; yet I certainly went with an unquiet
In our youth, we were ourself a most anticipation that I should find that child in no singular example of this curious fact, as we
peaceful sleep. The forewarning of my instinct shall presently explain. Our heart was no
was but fulfilled, when I discovered her, all cold stranger to hope, fear, and love, ere we had
and vigilant, perched like a white bird on the
outside of the bed. I scarcely knew how to accost reached the age of seven years. The thoughts her. She was not to be managed like another that then passed through our mind, and the child. She, however, accosted me. As I closed scenes of excitement to which, from circum the door, and put the light on the dressing-table stances, we were at that time subjected, have she turned to me with these words : I cannotoften recurred to us since; and do often recur cannot sleep; and in this way I cannot-cannot to us now. We fell in love with the sweet face and person of a most lovely girl in her I asked her what ailed her. seventeenth year, before we had numbered ,
'Dedful miz-er-y!' said she, with her piteous seven suinmers. We loved that face, that figure, far better than our own life.
*Shall I call Mrs. Bretton?'.
Yes, we lived upon her smile. We grew upon
'That is downright silly,' was her impatient the words that fell from her cherry lips. We heard Mrs. Bretton's foot approach, she would
reply, and indeed, I well knew that if she had were thinking of her, morni:g, noon, and have nestled quiet as a mouse under the lednight.