cording to our ideas, by no means appropriate. Phillips', "Why do the Nations," went magnificently. "Thou shalt break them," was too much for Vaughan. Miss Stephens', "I know that my Redeemer liveth," was very chaste and effective. Bellamy gave "The trumpet shall sound," very well: Sale used to sing this song, and we wish he had done his duty upon this occasion, instead of confining himself to the Quartet. "Lift up your heads," which sung by him, Messrs. Knyvett, Terrail, and Vaughan, told admirably.

We cannot conclude our remarks without noticing the admirable manner in which the Choruses were executed throughout these characteristic and spirited compositions had, indeed, full justice done to them; and the effect of them was electrifying.

For some months past we have heard it rumoured that divers unearthly, devilish, sounds have proceeded from this theatre. These were supposed by some to be music, by others complaints of the lessee, while useless and unprofitable foreigners were draining his treasury, and by many it was hinted that they were the groans and growls at divers legal proceedings, which caused any thing but harmony in the establishment. Now, whether or not all or any of these suppositions were correct, we know not, but certes Robert le Diable (a genteel sort of devil enough, in his way,) was introduced to the public on Monday night-not, however, without a puff-preliminary, stating how long he had been coming of age, the vast expense of finding proper masters for his instruction, and the great expense (5,0007.) of his education, which had fitted him to appear in public. We shall not, therefore, suppose the sounds issued from the lessee groaning at the sight of his useless foreigners, or at his having the fear of a ca. sa, before his eyes, but shall take it for granted the noises proceeded from the legitimate devil. But a truce to jesting.

After many busy notes of preparation, and sundry long postponements, Meyerbeer's much talked of Opera, Robert le Diable, was produced at this Theatre on Monday last. Its announcement had collected a very full and fashionable house, who exhibited as much patience as could be expected of an English assemblage, when the performances, which it was stated would begin at eight o'clock did not commence till nine. The first few bars of the music sufficiently proved that Mr. Mason, in producing the original Opera, was producing what was really a novelty, the rifacciemento already exhibited in London, affording but a faint idea of the beauties of the composition; while the opening scene proved that the style in which the adventures of the Fiend Count had been already exhibited at the Metropolitan Theatres, was to be rivalled or excelled on the present occasion.

With the plot of the Opera our readers are already familiar, as well as with the talent of Mademoiselle Cinti Damoreau, and Madame Meric, who in their characters of Isabelle and Alice sang most exquisitely. M. Damoreau made his first appearance in his original character of Raimbaut, and his good voice, agreoable acting, and spirited singing gave great satisfaction. M. Nourrit was, however, the greatest novelty of the evening. Fame had been busy with reports of his admirable qualifications as an operatic performer in general, and of his representation of Robert in particular. The Parisians had pronounced it every thing that could be wished, and we find that in this instance they certainly had not greatly exaggerated. M. Nourritt, whose voice is a tenor, with some faulty notes, nevertheless displays such skill in the management of it, as to deserve the character of a very chaste and agreeable singer; while the spirit which he infuses into his performance of the character of Robert, secures him that of a skilful and effective actor.

We cannot close our notice of this long-looked for performance, without paying a well-deserved compliment to the Grieves for the beautiful scenery displayed in it. The opening scene, the scene of the cloister, and the last-the Cathedral of Palermo, may be pronounced among the finest specimens of scenic art ever produced.

SMALL NOTES, FOR CHANGE.

HRAVY ENTERTAINMENT.

Our French neighbours, in their efforts at something new, and as if out of pure exhaustion, have put forth the American statesman and philosopher, Dr. Franklin, as the hero of a new Vaudeville! This is in absurdity much the same as if Lord Brougham were to figure at the Adelphi, to sustain the point in one of Peake's farces. Probably, the Doctor is made to deliver his “Advice to his Grandson," through the very impressive medium of French ballad metre, with such music as that manuer of thing is usually assorted with.

A QUEER DOG MISSING.

A weekly contemporary offers the distressing intelligence, that Lady Londonderry has lost her black and tan spaniel. We suspect that many others of the aristocracy, since the turn which affairs have lately taken, will experience a deficiency of spaniels. The same paragraph significantly adds, that the creature was "considered perfect specimen of King Charles's breed, a race gradually becoming extinct in this country." We thought, indeed, the race had lately arrived at extinction.

SIE BRASS ORNAMENTS TO SOCIETY.

Our countrymen of the adventurous class seem to be rivalling the continentals in their bold attempts at notoriety. On our Court occasions, we have tailors making their suits to, as well as for, Royalty, and apothecaries going through the prescriptions at St. James's, instead of compounding those of their medical sovereigns, the physicians. This same system of Mr. Nobody invading the prerogative of Somebody, has had its weight on the estimates formed of the English abroad. A newspaper agent, who has lately soared to an elopement, is characterised in a French journal, as “ Monsieur Newton, jeune Fashionable de la Ville de Londres !"

FORCED AND FREE LABOUR.

The advocates for West Indian Slavery tell us that the slaves are much better off than the free labourers in England, which they would fain, for their argument's sake, make us b lieve should no longer be called 'merry England,' mirth being banished alike from the peasant's cot, and tne habitation of the mechanic-by many "unfortunate coincidences.". Query-Would the slave himself answer like the mercenary of Philip of Macedon, when his wife implored him to seek his discharge-"No," said he, "I am well enough as I am; he that walks with other men's feet is provided for out of other men's purses." But, perhaps, the soldier's wife might have been a shrew-at any rate, the sword is a lighter burthen than a spade, especially when the lash was employed to assist in loosening a stubborn soil.

BREVITIES AND LEVITIES.

A SECRET MISSION.

The "Court Journal," in noticing the statement that Mr. Bunn, the new stage-manager of Drury Lane, is gone, on Captain Polhill's behalf, on a tour to Munich, &c., says, "It is rather puzzling to determine in what way our national drama is to be benefited by Mr. B.'s tour in Bavaria." To supply the information sought, we have privately ascertained, that Mr. B. has it in commission to bring over a bevy of the celebrated Bavarian broom-girls, whose native simplicity, untutored warblings, and habits of pastoral negligence, are to be introduced on our stage as a relief from the sickly refinement, the laboured trillings, and the cosmetic captivations of our present fashionable actresses. We understand, further, that a restraining fee is to be administered to Mr. Cobbett, whose opposition, so strongly evinced of late against the tanned and freckled beauties in question, might otherwise prove dangerous. We wish Mr. B. success in his mission. It is whispered, that Captain Polhill is confident of making a hit by the experiment, anticipating that as brooms always sweep clean," these will not fail of making a clear way to public favour.

THE DISCREET MARTIALIST.

new

It is amusing to notice the ascent in the scale of value which things acquire when they come to be lost, and how even the merest rubbish is quoted by the owners on such occasions at the top price of the market. A recent case at Lambeth-street Police Office introduced an old lady with an urgent complaint about a tabby cat, which some one had shot, for its depredations on his larder. The piteous gentlewoman was emphatic in her alternate lamentations and de. nunciations; and, in order to demonstrate the damage as not attaching to her affections alone, but to her purse, she declared that "she could have easily got five pounds for the cat, but she would not part with it for any such sum."

EXTREME DELICACY.

An Irish lady was invited to give her patronage to a musical publication called the Nosegay, which appeared last year. She immediately wrote to her bookseller and desired him to send her five copies of the Bouquet, a title which she thought more delicate, and one by which she imagined the Nosegay must be known; there was, however, a publication of a similar description, entitled the Bouquet, and she therefore had copies of that work sent to her-much to the disappointment of her friend, who could not induce her to subscribe to the Nosegay a second time.

One morning last week Mr. Charles Phillips was asked how it was that Mr. G.. had not uttered more than sixty words in a minute during the space of two hours?Oh! was the answer-we'll hope it is a proof that he is coming to his senses!

Mayerbeer will never sit down to write music, without having a dozen pillows beneath his feet, and on either side of his person-from this, it appears he thinks, that the body ought to be at ease, before the mind begins to labor.

Mr. Gentered the King's Bench at the beginning of the week, whilst the Common Serjeant, the Hon. Mr. C Law, was making an application. "What is before the Court? asked Mr. G"Only a motion for an attachment," he was answered. "Oh!" added the learned (?) gentleman, “I long since heard that differences existed between the Common Serjeant and his brother Lord Ellenborough:-it's very kind and forgiving of him to ask for an attachment!

During the time Mayerbeer was in London, he had almost as many disputes about money-matters as that impudent fiddler Paganini. One day he hired a cabriolet to take him from Fleet-street to his lodgings in Lower Regent-street :"What is de fare?" he inquired in getting out? "A bob,' replied the driver. "Vat you call a bob?" "A shilling, then, can you understand that?" "A shilling-me think you vant to cheat me,-you first say one bob, and now you say one shilling,— —mon secretaire quand il revient, shall pay you. "None of your gammon, I don't understand all this here stuff; pay me a bob, or a shilling, whatever you like to call it, or by jingo, I'll summons you. "I tell you, mon ami, come to me when mon secretaire is chez moi," and in he walked. The driver stopped some hours, and he then rang the bell and demanded his fare; the secretary by that time had returned and was glad to compromise with the driver for 10s. for loss of time, &c.

LITERARy novelTIES.

A third volume of Sir Jonah Barrington's Personal Sketches is announced for speedy publication. Henry Masterton; or, the Young Cavalier, from the pen of the Author of Richelieu, is daily expected.

A Conspectus of British Butterflies; by Professor Rennic, of King's College.

An Alphabet of Insects, being the first of a series of Scientific Alphabets, by the same author, is likewise annonnced.

TO OUR READERS.

In our last number we intimated approaching improvements in our journal. We trust that our readers will now perceive some incipient evidence of this. One circumstance usually considered favorable, will be apparent to them at the first glance-namely, that we have got out of the rules.

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

Our valued correspondent, G. B., must allow us to decline using his last prose communication. Perhaps he will the more readily do this, when he considers that he himself has already so largely and satisfactorily treated the subject in question, in our columns.

In our Reviewing Department last week, we inadvertently imputed to Sir Charles Aldis a work which we since find to have been written by his son

London: Published every Saturday Morning, for the Proprietors, by G. Cowie, 312, Strand, where Advertisements are received, and all Communications for the Editor (post paid) are to be addressed; and sold also by W. Strange, 21, Paternoster Row; G. Purkess, Wardour Street, Soho; G. Berger, 42, Holywell Street, Strand; and all Booksellers and Newsmen.

Cowie, Printer, Belle Sauvage Yard, Ludgate Hill.

The fire blazed cheerfully, as I sat in my solitary chambers in the Temple, discussing my fifth tumbler of whiskey and water: a grilled bone lay upon the table before me, flanked by a couple of red herrings, and at my elbow stood a square green bottle, filled with the purest Glenlivet; the wintry winds whistled loudly, and the rain dashed against the windows-but I surveyed the comfortable room, stirred the fire, puffed my cigar, perused the second edition of "The Globe," and heeded not the storm that continued to rage without. I looked upon the foils and sparring-gloves suspended above the mantelpiece, with a smile, thinking of the joyous scenes and merry fellows I had encountered with them! Does the gentle reader box? If not, I regret it: 'tis a delightful, spirit-stirring, and, I think, highly rational amusement.

Many years have elapsed since the circumstance occurred, which I am about to relate. I am now married, and do not live in chambers.

As I observed, I continued to read "The Globe" with much interest. It contained a detailed account of the murders committed by the celebrated Williams-and I have always had a penchant for the horrible. My interest became much excited, my thirst increased in proportion; I read, sipped, stirred the fire; varying my occupation by heaping coals upon the grate, and helping myself to morsels of the grill, and drought-exciting herrings. I read on, but for how long a space of time I know not. It was my fourteenth tumbler, I think, when the Temple clock struck-it may have been one, or two, for I cannot be certain. Everything was silent: the drunken gentleman, who occupied the next set of chambers, had reached the stupid state of his intoxication; the musical gentleman underneath had ceased to

Price 3d.

torture his violin; and the gentleman above me, who was learning to dance, fatigued by his own exertions, had retired to rest. I could hear the ticking of my own watch in my waistcoat pocket. The mice, who occasionally ran races behind the wainscot, seemed, except myself, the only living beings who had resisted the soporific influence of the hour.

I had now entered upon my fifteenth tumbler, the extremity of my thirteenth cigar glowed between my teeth, and I had almost concluded the perusal of Williams's confession of his misdeeds. I was much struck by the style in which he had performed his last exploit-smothering the old lady, knocking her husband's brains out, and cutting the infant's throat, all in the space of ten minutes-seemed to me a prodigious effort of genius, upon the part of the artist; but I was interrupted by a knock at the outer door! Living in chambers, I was rather a connoisseur in knocks. I could distinguish the duu's from the client's, and both from that of the lounging Templar. This was unlike any of those; it was a clear, distinct but I shall not attempt to describe it. The effect upon my somewhat jaded system was most unpleasant. My clerk had left me for the night; I was the sole occupant of the chambers; the other inhabitants of the building were (I had reason to believe) buried in the soundest slumbers. It occurred to me that I ought to open the door, but a strange and unaccountable feeling prevented my moving. It was an excessively late hour,-no respectable attorney would send a clerk out at that time of night. But I was spared the trouble of deciding upon the matter: the outer door, to my great surprise, swung back slowly upon its hinges; immediately afterwards, heavy footsteps resounded in the passage: I was looking anxiously towards the door, when a person of most unprepossessing appearance walked into the room. He was a short, thick personage, with red hair, exuberant whiskers of the same shade, and eyes of an awful obliquity. His surtout was of the colour termed pepper and salt," his nether integuments were corduroy; the snubness of his turned-up nose, and the sound of his voice, were indicative of his Hibernian extraction. "I'm

66

after coming to cut your honour's throat, Sir," said he, with a malignant grin, in reply to an inquiry of mine as to his business. "Cut my throat, you rascal !" cried I, seizing the poker; "I'll teach you to intrude upon the privacy of a gentleman." "Faith," replied the ruffian, dexterously parrying my blows with a long case-knife," that's a purty salute in the cool of the evening; however, we'll try paceful manes first, come in, Pompey, and knock this joker over the head with your crow-bar, and then we'll see if he'll listen to raison."

46

Aye, aye, Missa!" vociferated a gigantic negro, rushing into the room, and throwing himself upon me; 66 Me gib him de Demerara squeege, make him berry flat, same as pancock."

Although a pleader, I felt, in that instance, the inutility of my art; I struggled with the obstinacy of an Old Bailey advocate, but the muscular powers of the nigger were too much for me; I felt myself shrinking in his iron grasp. "Come, my young jackadandy," said the Irishman, who had been employed in discussing the remainder of the whiskey that stood upon the table, “don't be making a cockadoodle of yourself; let yourself be murdered dacently out of hand, and it's the best of wakes we'll give you."

Indignation supplied the place of strength for a moment; but it was only momentary. Completely exhausted, I sank breathless upon the floor; I felt the hot breath of the gigantic savage upon my cheek, I felt the cold edge of the Irishmin's knife upon my throat; my manhood deserted me; I shrieked aloud, and-awoke!

I looked around the room with a terrified glance. All there was silent and solitary, as before. My fire had gone ot, and the candles, with their enormous wicks, looked as though they would follow the example. I myself lay upon the floor, firmly clasping the empty whiskey-bottle in both arms, By my side lay the remains of "The Globe" newspaper, which had taken fire, and involved my left whisker in the conflagration.

Slowly and sadly raising myself up, I retired to my chamber, rum nating upon what I shall ever look upon as a psychological curiosity, and sternly resolving never in future to exceed twelve tumblers of punch per noctem.

THE WANDERING TRAVELLER;

OR FAR-FETCHED REMINISCENCES.

G. C.

"Quæ regio in terris nostri non plena laboris ?"-Virgil.

To migrate is my great delight, Disdaining each stay-at-home caviller, Domestical habits I slight

Then, hey! for the life of a traveller.

I've explored this terraqueous ball,

Its green-letter volume devouring Before all the printings of Hall,

And all the translations of Bowring.

My travels have run on to Tours, (An old town worth many a new one) I've taken a peep at the Moors,

And a row on the river at Rouen.

In stories, all carefully stored,

I can vie with the keenest viator. At Pest I've been plaguily bored;

And I've chatted away on the Prater,

Of a fresh stock of spirits, at some

Odd places I've been a receiver— As Nantz, and the island of Rum,

And the cordial old town of Geneva.

I have loved, for my spirits' occasion,
In Holland in Hollands to soak:
There they always prescribe fumigation,
And cure e'en the vapours with smoke.

Yes, Holland I've travelled clean through (The Dutch towns should all be called Washing-ton): In Turin I've eaten soup, too,

And Paris seen-site of all dashing ton.

I have been at the Cape of Good Hope,

(Let us hope that Cape Wines will grow better):

1 have seen that see-monster, the Pope,
But not bussed him (6 au pied de la lettre."

To me Lucca luckless did prove;

At Trieste I was gay as a daw; At Constance was jilted in love,

And saw the late war at Warsaw.

I have drunk af the cratur in Ireland, And that of Vesuvius have seen:

I have freezed at Fuego, or Fire-land, And been in the Bight of Benin.

I have opened my chest upon Berwick Quay :
I've repeatedly "swum in a gondola ;"

In America not in a merry key

Was I once, with my funds down at one dollar.

From Stockholm I've stocked home a cargo;
At the Scilly Isles lived by my wits;
Tobacco I've smoked at Tobago,
And fiddled away at St. Kitt's.

At Pekin I've been rather poorly;

At Cadiz the ladies I've courted; And Sydney has pleased me, though, surely, I won't say I there was transported.

I have staid but too long at Toulon,

And have stopped a good while too at Goa; I've bohea'd the Bohemians among,

And the bilboes endured at Bilboa.

The riches I've seen of Bhurtpoor,

And at Guinea have wanted a shilling: Near the Amour I've had an amour, And with heat at Bencoolen been grilling.

it

Be the nature of a history, novel, or tale what it may, appears evident, that it cannot exist without a hero-and Joseph Stumpkins, a very nice young man, at least in his own opinion, is destined to fill that important character, in the following narrative. A heroine is not considered so indispensable to the existence of such matters, but as a long acquaintance with narrative literature has convinced me that there is little interest felt if the reader is left without a heroine, I propose dignifying Miss Jemima Flytrap with that important appellation. The preliminaries being thus disposed of, as my friend, Prince Talleyrand, says (all writers now a days have some great man for a friend), I'll e'en proceed to detail the adventures of this enamoured pair.

It has been already observed that Joseph Stumpkins, (who was one of the assistant retailers of cachmeres and staylaces, at a well known emporium for such matters on Ludgate Hill,) was, in his own opinion, a very nice young man-and it is but doing justice to the discrimination which enabled him to form this opinion of himself, to add, that it was one which he shared in common with Miss Jemima. Whether the outrageously fashionable cut of his coat, the extra superfine flavour of his cigars, or his occasional disquisitions upon politics and poetry, (for he was a half-price frequenter of the minor theatres, and a diligent reader of the daily press) assisted her in forming this estimate of Joseph, cannot be satisfactorily decided: all, perhaps, contributed to ripen into admiration that feeling of gratitude which she experienced when Mr. Joseph Stumpkins called and paid her sundry little attentions upon her arrival in London, to fill a subordinate situation in a celebrated Magazin des Modes-a line of conduct which he adopted like a good son, in consequence of a letter from his father, the postscript of the said letter intimating that Jemima would, on the death of her aunt Deborah, have five hundred pounds of her own, which might be converted into Joseph's, by the transforming of Miss Jemima Flytrap into Mrs. Joe Stumpkins.

But to my story.-"It's uncommon pretty and rural like, isn't it, Jemima, love ?" said Joseph, as they strolled through Kensington Gardens, on the afternoon of Whitsunday; and Jemima answered in the affirmative, and sighed, as if she should never be tired of walking in such scenery and such company. So, at least, her companion interpreted that sigh,

and in a loving poetical vein he talked, and she, led on by his eloquence, walked, till it was growing dusk, and time to be at home. They felt a little tired, and something was said that when they were married, they would keep a shay"So said Jemima. "A cab, Jemima, love,' " said Joseph. This led to a discourse on riding, driving, racing, and Epsom Races, and at length to a determination that they should get a holiday on the Derby day, and that Joseph should hire something, and drive Jemima down in style.

On the Derby day, accordingly, they started. Joe, who, although country born, was cockney bred, had been so particular in engaging a quiet horse, that the livery stable keeper had fitted him with one which might be said to have "no go" in him, and must have beer. purchased by the rule of "Go to Smithfield, and get a good 'un at once, if you give thirty shillings for him!"

They started however, quietly and coolly, the driver observing, as the different vehicles passed him, that he was not going to knock up his horse at setting off-they should see how comfortable he should come home: Jemima thought the horse might go a little faster, but just as she began to think so, the beast began to go-a little slower, and show evident symptoms of lameness. The legs now began to disagree among themselves; three went on, but the fourth halted. This caused an application of whipcord, which Jemima called cruelty; and Joseph sulked at her insinuation. Jemima said the horse must be hungry-her word was law: and at the next house of call which exhibited the candid admission of "man and horse taken in," the three going legs were brought to a stand still.

The manner in which this feat was accomplished, and the uncertain tone in which the driver ordered "a feed," put the oat-stealers on the alert, and they commenced quizzing the set out. "Give him a feed, Sir ?" said number one of the fra. ternity, with a sly look and silky civility that betokened no good. "Yes," said Stumpkins. "How much, Sir?" "Oh, the usual quantity." "A bushel, Sir?" "Yes, Sir, the usual quantity." The usual quantity was given, the bushel charged for and Joseph grumbled at the charge-and was not pacified at being told "if he couldn't afford to pay the Darby price, he should have staid at home."

At length, after sundry adventures, and getting several times into a scrape by getting out of the line, they reached the course, and, having taken a post near the ropes, and deposited the horse in a convenient standing, they plumed their ruffled feathers, and began to look good-natured and genteel like. Just at the moment, however, when they were about to console themselves with the sandwiches and bottled beer which they had provided for the occasion, down came a heavy shower of rain, which spoiled the sandwiches, and Jemima's bonnet, (the feathers hung down like a cock's tail in a thunder-storm,) and, though last not least, washed the chalky road-dust well into Joseph's new mulberry surtout. Jemima would have saved her bonnet, but the parasol, which was cheap as well as new, was speedily reversed, and had she not quickly sat down upon it, would very probably have reached the grand stand before the winner.

At this critical juncture, good fortune smiled upon Jemima, in the shape of some acquaintance in a glass coach, who invited her in. She required no pressing all the pressing was on her side; for there were herself and six others in it. Joseph stowed himself under a waggon, from which he emerged just time enough to be too late to hinder a fellow from making off with Jemima's boa and reticule, and the residue of the sandwiches.

This bit of ill luck put our hero out of sorts; and Jemima, who shared his feelings, and was sharing the good things of