from the first scene to the last, the interest never flags-a circumstance rather rare in Italian libretti, where the music alone is usually enough to fix the attention. Some of the lighter airs are sufficiently well known in ball-rooms, and return upon the ear like well-remembered friends, to be welcomed and cherished; but the music, as a whole, is a combination of melody, new and exquisite.

In the East, scenery, singing, and dancing, are looked upon as necessary to be exhibited together if a perfect whole is desired; and in the operas of Auber, both in "Gustavus" and the "Muta di Portici," this rule has been strictly attended to: happy for the author and composer that the theatre on which these scenes are represented have resources of art capable of meeting all requirements.

As for the "Muta di Portici," long familiar to the French stage as "Massaniello,” it is even, if possible, more attractive than "Gustave" itself, were it not that the charming Caroline Duprez is not in it; for here the beautiful Fiorentini appears to more advantage, to our minds, than as the wife of Ankastrom. We do not like her dress in the first character; her figure is too fine to be covered up and concealed by a heavy fur mantle, however gorgeous; and she remains veiled so much, that we have not the delight of looking on her faultless face-a privation which even the listening to her seraph tones does not compensate. But in the bride, in the brilliant opera of "Massaniello," she shines forth in a blaze of beauty; her costume is perfect, and her looks are

Able to draw men's envies upon man.

The part of Finelle has introduced one of the most accomplished mimes to the Italian stage that ever yet astonished, agitated, and enchained an audience. Madame Monti's genius is so surpassing, that while we gaze on her expressive gestures in breathless anxiety, we are unable to persuade ourselves that she utters no sound, and that it is not our ears that inform us of all the sorrows and indignation of the deserted fair one.

Numerous débuts have introduced to us many admirable singers, male and female; amongst the chief is Signor Pardini, who, in despite of the cruel east wind-which, though it comes from a land of musk and roses, gathers in its journey to our shores the unkindest breath of icy sharpness-yet contrived to show that he possesses a tenor voice of extreme power, purity, and expression. Alas! after his first night of triumph he was obliged to succumb, and when her Majesty, attracted by the fame of so many successes, honoured the theatre with her presence, he was unable to continue his part of Massaniello, and to renew the admiration of the audience at his exquisite manner of giving the inimitable barcarole, Il piccol legno ascendi," which never produced a finer sensation than on the first night he sung it. We shall hope to hail his return to health speedily, and welcome him with the spring flowers. M. Massol, thanks be to Apollo! is free, and his glorious talent has resisted even the east wind.

We thought that in the magnificent scene of the masked ball in “Gustave" all the resources of the theatre were exhausted to produce an effect so brilliant; we thought the enchanting Carlotta could never appear in a scene of more unbounded gorgeousness; that we could never compare with the marvellous "galop" any other divertisement. We thought that the "Ile des Amours" and Ferraris had absorbed all of beauty, grace, and spirit that could be produced, but we had not reckoned on the bridal ballet and the fascinating grouping in the animated tableaux of the Nea

politan fishermen. Scene succeeds to scene, and picture to picture, in this most delightful of operas, till the spectator is exhausted with melody, and the magic of the visions which fleet before him make him doubt if he is really living in a work-a-day world, where there is anything else but dance and song, light and perfume.

The "Guarache," the "Bolero," the "Tarentelle," the "Neapolitaine !" See! what rushing hosts of fairies, sylphs, and spirits of all kinds! See! how they bound, and fleet, and fly, embrace and elude each other, -to return with fresh wiles and graces. Faust never beheld in his visions of whirling worlds anything so wild, so startling, or so lovely. The dresses of feathery lightness and hue, or of contrasted depth of colour; the castanets, the tambours, the mandolines; the whirrings as in air of winged figures; the dartings, as in water, of glittering forms; the momentary crowding, the simultaneous dispersing, to disclose other groups of aërial nimbleness; those soon lost again in the enfolding ranks of laughing, springing, clasping sisters that whirl away into space! How shall we follow them! Suddenly they become immoveable, hundreds of pretty faces, dimpled with smiles of exultation and triumph, are turned on the amazed audience, and the curtain falls amidst a shout of applause. The highest perfection of ballet is achieved-the force of art in this exquisite department of the realm of grace can go no further.

Of all the great masters of scenic art, there is not one whose pictures are so capable of furnishing materials for a ballet as the unique Watteau. The brilliant colouring of his dresses, the elegance and refinement of his figures, the grace and piquancy of his groups, the stories he tells of lovers, their gay quarrels-forgotten as soon as made-their petty reconciliations, their rose-coloured jealousies and azure-tinted revenges; the killing with a frown, the braining with a fan, the annihilation with a feather, the revivifying with a smile, the maddening with a glance,-all are depicted beneath the fragrant shades, by the embowered fountains in the atmosphere of loveliness, glowingly represented by the charming painter of courtly manners, whose style can be understood by all, and must be admired by every lover of the beautiful and the graceful.

As we look on Watteau's scenes we have but one desire: that his personages should rouse themselves from the immoveability in which they are fixed on the all but animated canvas, and, stepping forth from their dreamland of flowers and groves, walk, move, play, and dance before us "in their habits, as they lived."

An enchanter's wand has at length been found powerful enough to awaken these bewitching princesses of Arcadia, with all their attendant train of lovers and slaves; and, with all the added lustre of reality, the personages of Watteau have made themselves familiar friends of an amazed and delighted audience, who behold them now in all the fascination of actual existence.

The "Ile des Amours" has realised the painter's idea; and so original and beautiful are the living groups, that it would rather seem that the artist had studied from them than that they owed their being to him.

Amalia Ferraris returns full of fascination, and, surrounded by her nymphs, dazzles and enchants us by the splendour of her talent. The exquisite Carlotta comes bounding and smiling before us more irresistible than ever; but not these divinities alone charm the eye and the heart. Every beautiful figure that whirls past in the little world of golden light which forms the stage seems a genius and a fairy, and each individually

performs some feat of agility and grace which make her for the moment the favourite amongst the host of favourites that strive for pre-eminence to be "fairest where all are fair."

The corps de ballet is not now what once it was-merely a beautiful whole, attendant on the great effects produced by certain famous dancers. From year to year Mr. Lumley has been gradually improving, or rather changing its character, until it comes forth a new creation, perfect in all its parts a poem, every stanza of which is polished to the utmost, every word of which is a jewelled link in the chain of harmony.

These varied attractions were our Lenten entertainments, and, but that we know how faithfully Mr. Lumley keeps all his promises to the public, we should have doubted that the programme for after Easter could have been kept. But already we have the evidence on which we can rely.

The real season opened on the Tuesday in Easter week, with Mademoiselle Duprez in a new character, that of Adina, in the “Elisir d'Amore." It is one that suits her perfectly; and a more charming representative of the bewitching little village coquette we never remember to have seen. Archness in acting, and sweetness in singing, rendered her impersonation of Adina all that could be desired. The "Elisir" was the vehicle also for bringing back the great, the inimitable Lablache-greater, if possible, than of yore-in the famous Dr. Dulcamara.

The breadth

of his comedy, and the inexhaustible volume of his voice, kept the house in a perpetual state of mirth and amazement. Need we say how warmly he was welcomed? It was no slight advantage, moreover, to the opera, that Colletti appeared as Belcore. Calzolari's Nemorino was a carefully finished piece of singing. Carlotta Grisi, in a selection from "Les Metamorphoses," threw the last charm over that evening's entertainment. On the Thursday following we had the "Muta di Portici," and all that created our first impression was more than reproduced.

The last opera we had the opportunity of witnessing was on Saturday night, when "Lucrezia Borgia" was selected for the purpose of introducing another new prima donna in the person of Mademoiselle Alaimo, who performed the part of the heroine. This lady will prove a great acquisition to Mr. Lumley's numerous and powerful corps, which contains so many names of first-rate excellence, that the only question will be how to afford to all of them adequate means for the exhibition of their talent. As a singer, Mdlle. Alaimo will occupy a distinguished place, and as a tragedian, the very first. Her voice is of a fine quality, her style highly cultivated, her tones of extreme clearness and purity, and her manner effective without effort. The applause which she received was a real tribute to her merits; and her success was complete. Gardoni made his first appearance for the season as Gennaro, and was most warmly welcomed. He seems, since we last saw him, to have acquired increased physical strength, while his voice has lost nothing of its sweetness. Ida Bertrand made an excellent Orsini, and sang the "Brindisi" with a brilliancy and gusto that drew forth a rapturous encore. The Alfonso of Lablache was majestic, grand, and terrible, as of yore. Alory's new opera of "Le Tre Nozze" will be brilliantly inaugurated this evening, when Madame Sontag makes her first appearance for the season as Luisa-a part in which she has had a supreme success in Paris; and on Saturday the divine cantatrice is announced for Maria, in the "Figlia del Reggimento."

This is, indeed, keeping "the word of promise to the ear."

Preamble.

An apologie to the reader.

A defence.

The early his

torie of John's fair farm.

A NEW CHAPTER IN THE ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY OF
MARTIN AND CALVIN JOHN.

BY A POOR KINSMAN OF MARTINUS SCRIBLERUS.

ALL such as have read the pleasant history of my blood kinsman Jonathan, a witty man and a dean, which he wrote concerning Martin and Calvin John, will doubtless listen favourably to a short history ecclesiastical of that which took place under the sun, before and after they settled on the farm, whereon each, it seems, in their generation grew strong and lusty.

Inasmuch, too, as in days when Colburn was not, whenever any news, pleasant or of interest, was to be published, a herald or trumpeter would stand him forth in the market-place, and summon all men-at-arms, feodals, villeins, householders, and the rest, to hear his news withal; so let me, or us poor pensmen, for we be many, rouse all tything-men, pewopeners, and Puseyites, tractors, and distractors, vicars easy and curates poor,-bishops, in that they too do read the New Monthly-moreover, payers of rates, and grumblers at the same-thee, Parson Poundtext, of the Manse; and thee, Uriah Stedfast, of Zion Triumphat Chapelrie; thee, Young Chrysostom of Oriel; and thee, Medievalist of Camden,-Gorhamites, Arnoldites, Bennettites, and all of the "ites" and "isms" which abound; parish clerks and faithful wardens; Exeter, Pius, Cumming, Wiseman, dons, deans, and deacons-Oyez! listen to these presentsfor all and several of you the same have an interest in the farm, its rise, history, and appurtenances, whereof we speak.

Item-In that it may be descried in ancient limners' pictures where animals do appear, the artists thereof have written undermost "Ye dogge,' ," "Ye foxe," and so forth, guiding the mind of the beholder to a discernment of the same, this historie must be premised by the like props to guileless understandings, and the facile twigging of much allegory-we warn you that the farm of which it is spoken signifieth the Ch-h of En-d, that Gregory is the P-e, that the Scarlet Madam is the bad woman of Babylon, and for the rest, rather consider thyself, O reader, dense to the uttermost, or that birches shaded not thy academe, if aught herein written striketh not thy apprehension.

Moreover, if thou beest astute, thou wilt not fail to see that there be styles numerous and diverse in these chronicles. Marvel not at this. All in vain have I, the compiler, besought Mac-y, Alis-n, Camp-11, Sh-t, Mil-r, and others who have aided herein, to preserve a uniform method, though to the loss of much fair paper and many stamps-and like as gallery singers in churches do alter them Handel, as it seemeth for the better, so have I, non temnens ignobile vulgus, not scorning the vulgar, harmonise to myself, and for you, all these historians their beauties, and put aside all those manifold faultinesses which degrade their treatises.

As all men must needs have once been young, the same happened to our John, to whom from early time the farm pertained. Being a lad, he was uncouth of speech, rough in manner, and scarce a pair of breeches

to cover him, but with bare legs and a large appetite, he moved among the fields, whereon goodly houses now stand, careless of the morrow, so that a dinner was forthcoming for to-day.

At an early age he united himself to one, a Saxon born, named An- The Anglican gelica, or Anglica (whence the Anglicans, of which many still do linger dame. about Exeter, Oxford, and other their fastnesses). A plain, homelie dame was Anglica; a good honest peasant lass with small learning, and by no means a wise rich lady, as some writers have feigned.

Few are the books or ledgers which record the working of the farm in these rude days. Some old receipts and vouchers have I found in the rood-loft of St. Paul's, whither all antiquaries, dismayed at the huge charges of the sexton, timorously feared to penetrate,-yet on these the ink is faded, and the matter scanty to wit. Nevertheless did I send them to a fellow of Oriel, most gluttonous of black letter, of whose wisdom

I am assured that all was regular, or "Catholic," as the deponent was The state of the pleased to call it. It seems, however, to us, that the the farm was mis- farm in early ordered much; that the overseers were few, the labourers ill-paid, and age, when Anglica was alive. some store of couch-grass and other weeds all running to seed over the lowlands; to which add, that much waste land did lie untouched, and the buildings in bad condition.

A tolerable

Now John had a relation, by name "Old Gregory," with a snug and tidy bit of land, right among seven hills, across the water. farmer was he, as times went, and though he didn't stick quite close to the covenants of his lease (for it was no special copyhold, whatever he may say), yet he bestirred himself to enclose much bog land, and perhaps if he had possessed a proper "press" to polish down the "clods," his fields would have been in better order. If there had been better roads in these times, too, our John might have, doubtless, got a wrinkle from his kinsman, and Anglica made a better housekeeper; as it was, then, they were two stay-at-homes, the soil getting choked with weeds, unturned and uncared for, while the labourers either spent their days in hunting or fighting, or else lay snoring at home by their peatfires.

Another farm,

over the which was one Gregory.

sent to look after our John's farm.

By-and-by, Old Gregory heard that our John was making a hash of it, so thinking, as is usually the case, it was his wife's fault, Anglica to wit, he determined to send her cousin over there, without an invitation, How Gregory to see if, by keeping house for him, she mightn't be able to lick things a little into shape-the lady's name being Madam Scarletina-to look after her boxes, and help our John to get a little into the new system of farming (a onefold, or Catholic system, he called it). An active labourer, called Augustine, with a score of lads, was sent with the young woman also. Off they started on board an oyster dredger, and, without much sea-sickness, grounded on the beach near Dover.

Scarlet did when

Well, the whole party trudged off to our John's farm, and tapped at What Madam the door. John was rather taken aback at seeing such a posse; but, she came to the whatever his faults, he was a liberal fellow, so he asked them all in, and farm. sending Augustine and his boys down to the servants' hall, he took Madam into the parlour and introduced her to her cousin Anglica, who was terribly flustered at receiving such quality folks, and began dusting the tables and sweeping up the grate-not before they wanted it. John was a blunt fellow; so, after asking after the governor-meaning Gregory