exceedingly frightened; "but ours is not a military band. Miss Horsman, Mr. Craw, my dear Mrs. Ravenswing, shall we begin the trio? Silence, gentlemen, if you please, it is a little piece from my opera of the Brigand's Bride.' Miss Horsman takes the Page's part, Mr. Craw is Stiletto the Brigand, my accomplished pupil is the Bride;" and the music began.

What may have been the merits of the music or the singing, I, of course, cannot guess. Lady Thrum sat opposite the teacups, nodding her head and beating time very gravely. Lord Roundtowers, by her side, nodded his head too, for a while, and then fell asleep. I should have done the same but for the manager, whose actions were worthy of remark. He sang with all the three singers, and a great deal louder than any of them; he shouted bravo! or hissed as he thought proper; he criticised all the points of Mrs. Walker's person. She'll do, Crump, she'll do a splendid arm-you'll see her eyes in the shilling gallery! feet three, if she's an inch! Bravo slap up-capitalhurra!" and he concluded by saying, with the aid of the Ravenswing, he would put Ligonier's nose out of joint!

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What sort of a foot has she? She's five

The enthusiasm of Mr. Slang almost reconciled Lady Thrum to the abruptness of his manners, and even caused Sir George to forget that his chorus had been interrupted by the obstreperous familiarity of the manager.

And what do you think, Mr. Bludyer," said the tailor, delighted that his protégée should be thus winning all hearts, "isn't Mrs. Walker a tip-top singer, eh, sir?"

"I think she's a very bad one, Mr. Woolsey:" said the illustrious author, wishing to abbreviate all communications with a tailor to whom he owed forty pounds.

"Then, sir," says Mr. Woolsey, fiercely, "I'll - I'll thank you to pay me my little bill!"

It is true there was no connection between Mrs. Walker's singing and Woolsey's little bill; that the "Then, sir," was perfectly illogical on Woolsey's part; but it was a very happy hit for the future fortunes of Mrs. Walker. Who knows what would have come of her début but for that "Then, sir." and whether a smashing article" from the Tomahawk might not have ruined her for ever?

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· Are you a relation of Mrs. Walker's?" said Mr. Bludyer, in reply to the angry tailor.

What's that to you, whether I am or not?" replied Woolsey, fiercely. But I'm the friend of Mrs. Walker, sir; proud am I to say so, sir; and, as the poet says, sir, a little learning's a dangerous thing,' sir; and I think a man who don't pay his bills may keep his tongue quiet at least, sir, and not abuse a lady, sir, whom everybody else praises, sir. You shan't humbug me any more, sir; you shall hear from my attorney to-morrow, so mark that!"

"Hush, my dear Mr. Woolsey," cried the literary man, "don't make a noise; come into this window: is Mrs. Walker really a friend of yours?"

"Well, in that case, I shall do my utmost to serve her; and, look you, Woolsey, any article you choose to send about her to the Tomahawk I promise you I'll put in."

bill."

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Will you, though? then we'll say nothing about the little

You may do on that point," answered Bludyer, haughtily, "exactly as you please. I am not to be frightened from my duty, mind that; and mind, too, that I can write a slashing article better than any man in England: I could crush her by ten lines."

The tables were now turned, and it was Woolsey's turn to be alarmed.

"Pooh! pooh! I was angry," said he, "because you abused Mrs. Walker, who's an angel on earth; but I'm very willing to apologize. I say come - let me take your measure for some

new clothes, eh! Mr. B.?”

"I'll come to your shop," answered the literary man, quite appeased. "Silence! they're beginning another song."

The songs, which I don't attempt to describe (and, upon my word and honor, as far as I can understand matters, I believe to this day that Mrs. Walker was only an ordinary singer), the songs lasted a great deal longer than I liked; but I was nailed, as it were, to the spot, having agreed to sup

at Knightsbridge barracks with Fitz-Urse, whose carriage was ordered at eleven o'clock.

“My dear Mr. Fitz-Boodle," said our old host to me, "you can do me the greatest service in the world." "Speak, sir!" said I.

"Will you ask your honorable and gallant friend, the Captain, to drive home Mr. Squinny to Brompton?" "Can't Mr. Squinny get a cab?”

Sir George looked particularly arch. "Generalship, my dear young friend, a little harmless generalship. Mr. Squinny will not give much for my opinion of my pupil, but he will value very highly the opinion of the Honorable Mr. FitzUrse."

For a moral man, was not the little knight a clever fellow? He had bought Mr. Squinny for a dinner worth ten shillings, and for a ride in a carriage with a lord's son. Squinny was carried to Brompton, and set down at his aunt's door, delighted with his new friends, and exceedingly sick with a cigar they had made him smoke.

CHAPTER VIII.

IN WHICH MR. WALKER SHOWS GREAT PRUDENCE AND FORBEARANCE.

THE describing of all these persons does not advance Morgiana's story much. But, perhaps, some country readers are not acquainted with the class of persons by whose printed opinions they are guided, and are simple enough to imagine that mere merit will make a reputation on the stage or elsewhere. The making of a theatrical success is a much more complicated and curious thing than such persons fancy it to be. Immense are the pains taken to get a good word from Mr. This of the Star, or Mr. That of the Courier, to propitiate the favor of the critic of the day, and get the editors of the metropolis into a good humor, above all, to have the name of the person to be puffed perpetually before the public. Artists cannot be advertised like Macassar oil or blacking, and they want it to the full as much; hence endless ingenuity must be practised in order to keep the popular attention awake. Suppose a great actor moves from London to Windsor, the Brentford Champion must

state, that "Yesterday Mr. Blazes and suite passed rapidly through our city; the celebrated comedian is engaged, we hear, at Windsor, to give some of his inimitable readings of our great national bard to the most illustrious audience in the realm.” This piece of intelligence the Hammersmith Observer will question the next week, as thus: -"A contemporary, the Brentford Champion, says that Blazes is engaged to give Shakspearean readings at Windsor to the most illustrious audience in the We question this fact very much. We would, indeed, that it were true; but the most illustrious audience in the realm prefer foreign melodies to the native wood-notes wild of the songbird of Avon. Mr. Blazes is simply gone to Eton, where his son, Master Massinger Blazes, is suffering, we regret to hear, under a severe attack of the chicken-pox. This complaint (incident to youth) has raged, we understand, with frightful virulence in Eton School."

realm.'

And if, after the above paragraphs, some London paper chooses to attack the folly of the provincial press, which talks of Mr. Blazes, and chronicles his movements, as if he were a · crowned head, what harm is done? Blazes can write in his own name to the London journal and say that it is not his fault if provincial journals choose to chronicle his movements, and that he was far from wishing that the afflictions of those who are dear to him should form the subject of public comment, and be held up to public ridicule. "We had no intention of hurting the feelings of an estimable public servant," writes the editor; and our remarks on the chicken-pox were general, not personal. We sincerely trust that Master Massinger Blazes has recovered from that complaint, and that he may pass through the measles, the whooping-cough, the fourth form, and all other diseases to which youth is subject, with comfort to himself, and credit to his parents and teachers." At his next appearance on the stage after this controversy, a British public calls for Blazes three times after the play; and somehow there is sure to be some one with a laurel-wreath in a stage-box, who flings that chaplet at the inspired artist's feet.

I don't know how it was, but before that début of Morgiana, the English press began to heave and throb in a convulsive manner, as if indicative of the near birth of some great thing. For instance, you read in one paper,

"Anecdote of Karl Maria Von Weber.- When the author of Oberon was in England, he was invited by a noble duke to dinner, and some of the most celebrated of our artists were assembled to meet him. The signal being given to descend to the salle-a-manger, the German composer was invited

by his noble host (a bachelor) to lead the way. 'Is it not the fashion in your country,' said he, simply, for the man of the first eminence to take the first place? Here is one whose genius entitles him to be first anywhere.' And, so saying, he pointed to our admirable English composer, Sir George Thrum. The two musicians were friends to the last, and Sir George has still the identical piece of rosin which the author of the Freischutz gave him."-The Moon (morning paper), 2d June.

"George III. a composer.- Sir George Thrum has in his possession the score of an air, the words from Samson Agonistes, an autograph of the late revered monarch. We hear that that excellent composer has in store for us not only an opera, but a pupil, with whose transcendent merits the elite of our aristocracy are already familiar."- Ibid. June 5.

"Music with a Vengeance. The march to the sound of which the 49th and 75th regiments rushed up the breach of Badajoz was the celebrated air from Britons Alarmed; or, the Siege of Bergen-op-Zoom, by our famous English composer, Sir George Thrum. Marshal Davoust said that the French line never stood when that air was performed to the charge of the bayonet. We hear the veteran musician has an opera now about to appear, and have no doubt that Old England will now, as then, show its superiority over all foreign opponents."-Albion.

"We have been accused of preferring the produit of the étranger to the talent of our own native shores; but those who speak so, little know us. We are fanatici per la musica wherever it be, and welcome merit dans chaque pays du monde. What do we say? Le mérite n'a point de pays, as Napoleon said; and Sir George Thrum (Chevalier de l'ordre de Eléphant et Château, de Panama) is a maestro whose fame appartient à l'Europe.

"We have just heard the lovely élève, whose rare qualities the cavaliere has brought to perfection, We have heard THE RAVENSWING (pourquoi cacher un nom que demain un monde va saluer), and a creature more beautiful and gifted never bloomed before dans nos climats. She sang the delicious duet of the Nabucodonosore,' with Count Pizzicato with a blezza, a grandezza, a raggio, that excited in the bosom of the audience a corresponding furore: her scherzando was exquisite, though we confess we thought the concluding fioritura in the passage in y flat a leetle, a very leetle sforzuta. Surely the words,

'Giorno d'orrore,
Delire, dolore,
Nabucodonosore,'

should be given andante, and not con strepito: but this is a fante bien légère in the midst of such unrivalled excellence, and only mentioned here that we may have something to criticise.

We hear that the enterprising impresario of one of the royal theatres has made an engagement with the Diva; and, if we have a regret, it is that she should be compelled to sing in the unfortunate language of our rude northern clime, which does not prêter itself near so well, to the bocca of the cantatrice as do the mellifluous accents of the Lingua Toscana, the langue par excellence of song.

&c.

"The Ravenswing's voice is a magnificent contra-basso of nine octaves." - Flowers of Fashion, June 10.