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accompaniments expressive of the placid undulation of the sea, in the beautiful terzett, "Soave sia il vento" (Così fan tutte)-the beating of the oars preceding the first appearance of Selim, in Il Turco in Italia-a similar approach of the skiff, in La Donna del Lago-the approach of the Jew pedlar, in La Gazza Ladra—and some few other cases of the like description.

On the other hand, we derived no gratification from several imitations of the chirping of birds in some English songs, from the numerous and varied attempts at the picturesque of all sorts in Haydn's Creation, in which all manner of sounds and things are musically pencilled out, not excepting chaos and primitive darkness itself.

We are far from the presumption of forming from our individual likings and dislikes a standard of the Beautiful in this matter: our opinion, however, must necessarily be founded on these. This opinion we give candidly and unpretendingly, leaving it to others to judge whether it coincides with their own observations and feelings.

It seems to us, in the first place, that imitations of this kind ought to be used with a very sparing hand. If they present themselves once or twice in a whole opera, or in any evening's performance, it is quite enough. We consider them altogether as mechanical expedients, forming licences in the art. Hence, if they are imitations ever so apt, and in themselves unobjectionable, their frequent recurrence is likely to have a detrimental effect. They are, after all, but fanciful attempts at approximation, of doubtful comprehension, and calculated to divert the mind from the more direct and legitimate aims of the art. We conceive, in the next place, that the more insignificant the object of the imitation is, the more trifling the result will be, and the less ought it to be attempted. Little minds will generally be found to resort to the picturesque in Music more freely, and it is little minds that more particularly find entertainment in listening to it, because it is more tangible to a narrow intellect, than the nobler sublimities of the art. They are the same people that will value a picture, not for its composition, grouping, or the expression in the countenance, but on account of the charming fidelity in the imitation of the Brussels lace, the truth in the representation of a china basin, or a copper fish-kettle. A purely imitative piece of Music, therefore, would seem to stand in the same relation to a noble and classic composition, as a Dutch painting of grapes, carrots, and onions, to a Madonna and Child of Raphael.

It is on these grounds, probably, that musical imitations are less objectionable in humorous compositions. When we have a mind to be ludicrous, we do not stick at trifles. In this manner we have seen the musical picturesque successfully applied to imitate sneezing and other strange sounds; and the genius of the sublime Beethoven (quandoque dormitans) has with consummate art typified, not only the parabolic leaps of a frisky flea, but even the ultimate doom usually inflicted on that offending race.

LONDON LYRICS.

Time and Love.

Ax artist painted Time and Love:
Time with two pinions spread above,
And Love without a feather:
Sir Harry patronized the plan,
And soon Sir Hal and Lady Anne
In wedlock came together.

Copies of each the dame bespoke :
The artist, ere he drew a stroke,
Reversed his old opinions,

And straightway to the fair one brings
Time in his turn devoid of wings,
And Cupid with two pinions.

"What blunder 's this?" the lady cries.
"No blunder, Madam," he replies,
"I hope I'm not so stupid.
Each has his pinions, in his day,
Time, before marriage, flies away,
And, after marriage, Cupid."

Surnames.

MEN once were surnamed from their shape or estate, (You all may from History worm it)

There was Lewis the Bulky, and Henry the Great,
John Lackland, and Peter the Hermit.

But now when the door-plates of Misters and Dames
Are read, each so constantly varies

From the owner's trade, figure, and calling, Surnames
Seem given by the rule of contraries.

Mr. Box, though provoked, never doubles his fist,
Mr. Burns in his grate has no fuel,

Mr. Playfair won't catch me at hazard or whist,
Mr. Coward was wing'd in a duel.

Mr. Wise is a dunce, Mr. King is a Whig,
Mr. Coffin 's uncommonly sprightly,
And huge Mr. Little broke down in a gig
While driving fat Mrs. Golightly.

Mrs. Drinkwater 's apt to indulge in a dram,
Mrs. Angel 's an absolute fury,

And meek Mr. Lyon let fierce Mr. Lamb

Tweak his nose in the lobby of Drury.

At Bath, where the feeble go more than the stout,
(A conduct well worthy of Nero)

Over poor Mr. Lightfoot, confined with the gout,
Mr. Heaviside danced a Bolero.

Miss Joy, wretched maid, when she chose Mr. Love,
Found nothing but sorrow await her:

She now holds in wedlock, as true as a dove,
That fondest of mates, Mr. Hayter.
Mr. Oldcastle dwells in a modern-built hut,
Miss Sage is of madcaps the archest;
Of all the queer bachelors Cupid e'er cut
Old Mr. Younghusband 's the starchest.

Mr. Child, in a passion, knock'd down Mr. Rock,
Mr. Stone like an aspen-leaf shivers,

Miss Poole used to dance, but she stands like a stock,
Ever since she became Mrs. Rivers.

Mr. Swift hobbles onward, no mortal knows how,

He moves as though cords had entwined him,
Mr. Metcalfe ran off, upon meeting a cow,
With pale Mr. Turnbull behind him.

Mr. Barker's as mute as a fish in the sea,
Mr. Miles never moves on a journey,
Mr. Gotobed sits up till half-after-three,
Mr. Makepiece was bred an attorney.
Mr. Gardener can't tell a flower from a root,
Mr. Wilde with timidity draws back.
Mr. Ryder performs all his journeys on foot,
Mr. Foote all his journeys on horseback.

Mr. Penny, whose father was rolling in wealth,
Kick'd down all the fortune his dad won,
Large Mr. Le Fever 's the picture of health,
Mr. Goodenough is but a bad one.

Mr. Cruickshank stept into three thousand a year,
By shewing his leg to an heiress :—

Now I hope you'll acknowledge I've made it quite clear
Surnames ever go by contraries.

ROUGE ET NOIR.

"Could I forget

What I have been, I might the better bear
What I am destined to. I'm not the first

That have been wretched-but to think how much
I have been happier!".

SOUTHERN.

NEVER shall I forget that accursed 27th of September: it is burnt in upon the tablet of my memory; graven in letters of blood upon my heart. I look back to it with a strangely compounded feeling of horror and delight; of horror at the black series of wretched days and sleepless nights of which it was the fatal precursor; of delight at that previous career of tranquillity and self-respect which it was destined to terminate-alas, for ever!

On that day I had been about a fortnight in Paris, and in passing through the garden of the Palais Royal had stopped to admire the beautiful jet-d'eau in its centre, on which the sun-beams were falling so as to produce a small rainbow, when I was accosted by my old friend Major E, of the Fusileers. After the first surprises and salutations, as he found that the business of procuring apartments and settling my family had prevented my seeing many of the Parisian lions, he offered himself as my Cicerone, proposing that we should begin by making the eircuit of the building that surrounded us. With its history and the remarkable events of which it had been the scene I was already conversant; but of its detail and appropriation which, as he assured me, constituted its sole interest in the eyes of the Parisians, I was completely ignorant.

After taking a cursory view of most of the sights above ground in this multifarious pile, I was conducted to some of its subterraneous wonders, -to the Café du Sauvage, where a man is hired for six francs a night

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to personate that character, by beating a great drum with all the grin ning, ranting, and raving of a madman;-to the Café des Aveugles, whose numerous orchestra is entirely composed of blind men and women; and to the Café des Variétés, whose small theatre, as well as its saloons and labyrinths, are haunted by a set of Sirens not less dangerous than the nymphs who assailed Ulysses. Emerging from these haunts, we found that a heavy shower was falling; and while we paraded once more the stone gallery, my friend suddenly exclaimed, as his eye fell upon the numbers of the houses-" one hundred and fiftyfour!-positively we were going away without visiting one of the gaming-houses was the meaning of the term he employed, though he expressed it by a word that the fashionable preacher never mentioned to "ears polite."-"I have never yet entered," said I, a Pandamonium of this sort, and I never will:-I refrain from it upon principle; -Principiis obsta;' I am of Dr. Johnson's temperament, I can practise abstinence, but not temperance; and every body knows that prevention is better than cure."-"Do you remember," replied E"what the same Dr. Johnson said to Boswell- My dear Sir, clear your mind of cant;' I do not ask you to play; but you must have often read, when you were a good little boy, that Vice to be hated needs but to be seen,' and cannot have forgotten that the Spartans sometimes made their slaves drunk, and shewed them to their children to inculcate sobriety. Love of virtue is best secured by a hatred of its opposite: to hate it you must see it; besides, a man of the world should see every thing."-" But it is so disreputable," I rejoined." How completely John-Bullish !" exclaimed E. "Disreputable! why I am going to take you to an establishment recognised, regulated, and taxed by the Government, the upholders of religion and social order, who annually derive six millions of francs from this source of revenue; and as to the company, I promise you that you shall encounter men of the first respectability, of all sects and parties, for in France every one gambles at these salons, except the devotees, and they play at home."-He took my arm, and I walked up stairs with him, merely ejaculating as we reached the door" Mind, I don't play."

Entering an ante-room, we were received by two or three servants, who took our sticks and hats, for which we received tickets, and by the number suspended around I perceived that there was a tolerably numerous attendance within. Roulette was the game to which the first chamber was dedicated. In the middle of a long green table was a eircular excavation, resembling a large gilt basin, in whose centre was a rotatory apparatus turning an ivory ball in a groove, which, after simdry gyrations, descended to the bottom of the basin where there was a round of little numbered compartments or pigeon-holes, into one of which it finally settled, when the number was proclaimed aloud. Beside this apparatus there was painted on the green baize a table of various successive numbers, with divisions for odd and even, &c. on which the players deposited their various stakes. He who was in the compartment of the proclaimed number was a winner, and if he had singled out that individual one, which of course was of very rare occurrence, his deposit was doubled I know not how many times. The odd or even declared their own fate: they were lost or doubled. This altar of chauce had but few votaries, and merely stopping a moment

to admire the handsome decorations of the room we passed on into the

next.

This, whispered my companion, for there was a dead silence in the apartment, although the long table was entirely surrounded by people playing, this is only the silver room; you may deposit here as low as a five franc piece: let us pass on to the next, where none play but those who will risk bank-notes or gold. Casting a passing glance at these comparatively humble gamesters, who were, however, all too deeply absorbed to move their eyes from the cards, I followed my conductor into the sanctuary of the gilded Mammon.

Here was a Rouge et Noir table, exactly like the one I had just quitted. In its centre was a profuse display of gold in bowls and rouleaus, with thick piles of bank notes, on either side of which sat a partner of the bank and an assistant, the dragon guards of this Hesperian fruit. An oblong square, painted on each end of the green table, exhibited three divisions, one for Rouge, another for Noir, and the centre was for the stakes of those who speculated upon the colour of the first and last card, with other ramifications of the art which it would be tedious to describe. Not one of the chairs around the table was unoccupied, and I observed that each banker and assistant was provided with a rateau, or rake, somewhat resembling a garden hoe, several of which were also dispersed about, that the respective winners might withdraw the gold without the objectionable intervention of fingers. When the stakes are all deposited, the dealer, one of the bankers in the centre, cries out-"Le jeu est fait," after which nothing can be added or withdrawn; and then taking a packet of cards from a basket full before him, he proceeds to deal. Thirty-one is the number of the game: the colour of the first card determines whether the first row be black or red: the dealer turns up till the numbers on the cards exceed thirty-one, when he lays down a second row in the same manner, and whichever is nearest to that amount is the winning row. If both come to the same, he cries "Après," and recommences with fresh cards, but if each division should turn up thirty-one, the bank takes half of the whole money deposited, as a forfeit from the players. In this consists their certain profit, which has been estimated at ten per cent. upon the total stakes. If the red loses, the banker on that side rakes all the deposits into his treasury; if it wins, he throws down the number of Napoleons or notes necessary to cover the lodgments made by the players, each one of whom rakes off his prize, or leaves it for a fresh venture. E explained to me the functions of the different members of the establishment-the Inspector, the Croupier, the Tailleur, the Messieurs de la chambre, &c. and also the meaning of the ruled card and pins which every one held before him, consulting it with the greatest intenseness, and occasionally calling to the people in attendance for a fresh supply. This horoscope was divided by perpendicular lines into columns, headed with an alternate R. and N. for Rouge and Noir, and the pin is employed to perforate the card as each colour wins, as a groundwork for establishing some calculation in that elaborate delusion termed the doctrine of Chances. Some, having several of these records before them, closely pierced all over, were summing up the results upon paper, as if determined to play a game of chance without leaving any thing to hazard; and none seomVOL. VI. No. 31.-1829.

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