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LONDON GENERAL COAL COMPANY (limited).

F, W. HAMMOND, GENEEAL MANAGER.

Best Sunderland Wallsend (thoroughly screened) - - Ms. per Ton. Adelaide Wallsend (recommended) - 23s. do.

Good Strong Kitchen Coal (free from dust and slate) - 21s. do.

OFFICES—373 OXFORD STREET, AND GREAT NORTHERN RAILWAY, KING'S CROSS.

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lieiriefos.

"The monks were jolly boys"—ballad — sung by Herr Formes in the operetta Once too often; "The love you've slighted still is true"— ballad — sung by Mile. Jenny Bauer, ditto, ditto; "A young and artless maiden"— romance—sung by Herr Reiehardt, ditto, ditto; "Love is a gentle thing"—ballad — sung by Miss Emma Heywood, ditto, ditto — composed by Howard Glover (Duncan Davison and Co.). Mr. Glover's operetta is a decided, and, what is better, a legitimate, "hit." The songs before us have already attained a well-merited popularity. "The monks were jolly boys" is as racy as the best of the old English ditties, harmonised with equal quaintness and skill, and thoroughly well suited to the voice of Herr Formes. "The love you've slighted still is true" (for Mile. Jenny Bauer) has a melody of charming freshness, as a few bars may show :—

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effectively for voices, but a thorough proficiency in the art of combination, and, as it were, a dramatic spirit, which might win favour for an opera from his pen. Each voice (tenor, basso, and soprano, in the order in which they enter, has an effective solo, followed by an ensemble (or "tutti") for the three voices in the major key (the trio begins in C minor), the whole terminating with a coda, "sotto voce," the effect of which, if smoothly rendered by three good singers, must be as charming as it is new. The more of such "terzettinos" the better.

"Six Christmas or after dinner Songs"—with pianoforte

accompaniments (Boosey and Sons). The contents are, 1, "The Roast Beef of Old England;" 2, "Christmas comes but once a year;" 3, "Down among the dead men;" 4, "The glasses sparkle on the board;" 5, "The good old days ; " and 6, " Christmas bells." Here all tastes are conciliated. The lovers of old airs and reminiscences of the past may sing till "the glasses ring again," those time-honoured promoters of joviality, "Down among the dead men," once as popular, at dinner, as the "Power of Love," and the "Glasses sparkle on the board," which we remember to have heard roared when George the Third was King. He who desires to rouse his patriotism and gain an appetite without the labour of exercise may shout at the top of his barytone "The Roast Beef of Old England," that fine old sirloin of a tune, done to all tastes. On the other hand, the admirer of modern music may indulge his fancy in Balfe's genial carol, "Christmas comes but once a year," words by John Oxenford (a rare poet), or Hatton's "Good old days," which may be unreservedly commended for its vigour. In fine, if the "Six Christmas Songs" do not satisfy the most exacting purchaser of "cheap music" we can hardly guess what will.

"Locke's Music for Macbeth "(boosey and Son). No one can grumble to pay sixpence for the whole of Locke's music to Macbeth, old as it is. Such a boon to theatrical managers was never before offered them, since, although only a pianoforte arrangement, each of the principal choristers may henceforth be provided, at a mere nominal charge, with his part. Unfortunately we have few now to play Macbeths or Hecates ; nevertheless, Looke's music is exceedingly popular, and will always give pleasure on or off the stage. In its present convenient form it will be doubly tempting.

fetters tff tbe (Prior.

Sib,—Hearing they are lecturing nt the Colosseum in London upon the manufacture of paper clothes, can you oblige by making mo acquainted, in your next impression, who is the patcnteo and manufacturer of the same, if you know?

[We are unable to answer the question. Will any better instructed reader help our correspondent to the desired information ?—Ed.]

QUERIES.

An Amateur will feel obliged to the Editor of The Musical World to state, in its next number, how to use Maelzel's Metronome, so as to ascertain the correct time in which to perform a given composition; also to bo good enough to say which is the best means of studying harmony without a master.

[With regard to the Metronome, the only means we can suggest as at all feasible, is to set it to the equivalent indicated by the composer. With regard to learning harmony without a master, we should conscientiously advise an Amateur not to try.—Ed.]

TILE FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF THE ELBER-
FELD GESANG-VEREIN.*

{ContinuedJrom page 54.)

Thcs did both the Association and its Director proceed bravely on their artistic path, faithfully adhering to what was old and approved, but giving a warm and lively welcome to every important novelty, by introducing it to the public, until, in the year 1853, this pleasing bond was suddenly snapt asunder. The incomparable man, who, for forty-one years, had, with unexampled devotedness and sagacity, conducted the Association, and who, although in the sixty-fifth year of his age, still retained the complete possession of all his mental faculties, was torn from us most unexpectedly, on the 2nd December. Never was mourning deeper and more general! All the members of the Association, followed by the other musical societies of the city, accompanied the remains of him they so truly loved to their last resting-place, while, on the 9th December, a touching funereal service was celebrated in the large room of the Casino. There was but one solace which softened the heavy loss the public had sustained. Hermann, the deceased's eldest son, who had become an excellent artist, thanks to the instruction of the celebrated Hummel, had, for twenty-two years, conducted the Gesangverein and concerts in Barmen, quite in his father's spirit. No one else could offer such certain guarantees for continuing to manage the Association in accordance with tbe intentions of its founder, and, as he himself regarded the fact of thus continuing to manage in the light of a cherished legacy, which ought not to be refascd, he joyfully accepted his unanimous election, and returned to his native town in the beginning of 1854. In order to afford their new Director an opportunity of at once displaying the full extent of his capabilities, the Association got up a musical festival in July. Haydn's Seasons was performed on the first day. Mile. Nathalie Eschborn, and the celebrated oratorio-singers, Schneider and Kindcrmann, from Munich, undertook the solos. Such a performance had never before been heard in Elberfcld.

In the autumn of 1854, the Subscription-Concerts began, as usual, and it was speedily evident, from the programmes, and the manner in which they were carried out, that the new Director was fully capable of realising, in a brilliant manner, all the expectations entertained of him. While speaking of the execution of new works of importance, we may mention. Schumann's Sanger's Fluch, Rheinthaler's Jephla, Gade's ErlhOnig's Tochter, Van Eykcu's Lucifer, nnd others.

In the midst of the preparations for Schumann's Faust, the Casino was burnt down, on new year's night, 1858, when the concert-room, unequalled for its acoustic qualities, shared the same fate. Not only did the Association lose the building in which it had been accustomed to practise, but a great portion of its valuable library, which it had taken forty years to collect. Hut the most cruel blow of all was the fact that, for two whole years, it was unable to give any public performance. It was not until last year that the works were sufficiently advanced for the concert-room, which is considerably larger thun the former one, to bo inaugurated, in March, by Mendelssohn's St. Paul. The concerts of last winter were opened with the Elijah, and proved by their subsequent programmes, and the way in which they were executed, that the Association had quite got over its loss, and once more attained its previous high excellence of execution.

The Association, founded fifty years ago by twenty-one admirers of the noble art of singing, can now show a list of two hundred members, while Haydn's Creation—performed forty-four years since by one hundred and ten musical amateurs, who had to bo hunted up from all tho towns in the Rhine provinces—was given, on tho 30th November, by more than two hundred nnd forty executants, all of whom belonged to tho town of Elberfcld alone. In order to mark the Festival by a decided act of progress, tho Association had erected in the concert-room a grand organ, with thirty-six stops, three manuals, and a free pedal, from the workshops of Ibuch, Sons, in Barmen. The swelling tones of this instrument were first heard in connection with tho words, "Und es ward Light" ('-And there was Light").

During the last fifteen years, Hcrrcn F. Hcyer, A. Wiilfing, and J. II. Zapp, have, by the active support they have affor Jed the professional Director, proved themselves entitled to the warmest thanks of the Association. Besides this, Hcrr Zapp has, nlso, at a considerable sacrifice, collected the materials for the present account.

May the Association thus enter, under happy auspices, the second half of its centcnium, nt the end of which may our descendants be able to assert, with justifiable pride, that they have properly managed the in

» From the Niederrheinische Musik-Zeitung. {Translated for the Musical World.)

| heritance they received from their fathers, and have steadily progressed l towards an ever-rising degree of perfection!

When a town like Elberfeld, which owes its prosperity and its im| portance to its unceasing activity in practical things, has, for already 1 fifty years, fostered and cherished an Institution intended to promote 1 ideal aims, it has pursued a highly creditable course, proving that the busy occupations of commerce and trade have not caused its citizens to | neglect the cultivation of art, and thus the Festival in honour of tbe i Fiftieth Anniversary of the Gesangverein, founded, in the year 1811, by i Johann Schornstein and his friends, was a pleasing proof of gratitude towards the founders, and of the elevated feeling which marks the minds of tbe present generation, and inspires them with increased enthusiasm for art.

All those who were present at the Festival will cheerfully admit that tbe mode of its celebration was in perfect harmony with its purpose and importance. When sueh works as Haydn's Creation and Beethoven's Ninth Symphony constitute the principal portion of a musical solemnity, it is evident, from the very programme, what earnest and correct taste has guided the man who has had the direction of all the arrangements. The execution, also, of the programme, thanks to the combined musical resources of the town, was something grand, and—on account of the capabilities and zeal of tbe executants, as well as of the thoroughly excellent way in which they had been trained by Herr Hermann Schornstein, and the admirable manner in which that gentleman conducted,—on the whole, very successful, while, in many pieces, it was more than ordinarily good and elevating. The splendid locale, also, the hall of the new Casino, with its organ and peculiarly fine acoustic qualities, contributed greatly to the imposing effect produced by the music, while the unexceptionably happy taste displayed by the Committee in the selection of the soloists, formed the keystone of the magnificent monument of tone raised, on the last day of November and the first of December, to celebrate tbe establishment of one of the most important vocal institutions in the Rhenish provinces, nnd, also, its present prosperity.

It was certainly gratifying and elevating to find that, on the first evening of the Festival, after the importance of the latter had been demonstrated in a spirited prologue by Herr Emil Rittershaus, a deep impression was produced by the magnificence of the chorus, with its fresh and vigorous voices, especially thoso of the ladies, in combination with the full volume of sound emanating from the orchestra, assisted occasionally by the organ; but, such is the excellence of Rhenish choral singing, as a rule, that we have known a similar effect produced at many other performances of the Creation. What, however, rendered the present performance more especially good, was the execution of the solos by three artists — Mile. Rohn, Herren SchlSsser and Stepan, from the Theatre Royal, Mannheim—whose voices, fully equal, by their fulness and steadiness to hold their own against the orchestra, besides being raised by artistic education to a high pitch of excellence, and mutually setting each other off inconsequence of having sung together for years, invested the whole with a rare brilliancy, and still rarer homogeneous ■ ness. Mile. Rohn, who possesses a genuine soprano, as clear as a bell, nnd as fresh, every evening, when she sang her last note as when she sang her first, displays the unusual combination of a full-toned, strong organ, with the greatest mechanical excellence in purling bravura and the most perfect shake. By her delivery of the grand air in F major, at the commencement of Part II., she elicited the most enthusiastic applause, in which even the sternest critics shared; and wo confess that we seldom ever belorc heard, in any other singer, 6uch a fine union of the two elements, namoly, the Heroic and the Pleasing, which distinguish the motives of this air. In the A major trio, she gave the bravura passage in such a fashion, that it resembled a brilliant rocket, souring high up into the heavens, and completely eclipsed all the joyous notes of both chorus and orchestra. The duet, also, with Herr Stepan (Adam), wns an expressive and beautiful performance.

The second Festival-Concert took place on Sunday, the 1st December, on which occasion the principal feature in the programme was Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.

There is always a risk in confiding the execution of this mighty composition to performers who have not been accustomed, by long practice, to work together, or, at least, cannot, by frequent rehearsals, be taught to do so. If, in addition to this, we recollect that the principal component part of the Elberfeld orchestra, we refer to the Johannisbergcr Band, has a great deal to do, and, moreover, generally plays quite different music to Beethoven's Symphonies, we shall make allowances for 6uch local disturbing causes, and reaMily admit that the execution of this highly difficult work was, on the whole, one which produced a profound impression. The best played portion was the first movement, and then came the finale, in which the chorus and the solo voices most contributed to the successful result.

The first grand allegro lost none of its peculiar character; there was plenty of energy in the mode in which it was conducted and realised. Compared to the execution of the first movement, that of the scherzo and adagio left much to be desired; in the adagio, for instance, the chorus of wind-instruments did not appear to bear sufficiently in mind that the conduct of the melody, in long, sustained notes, was principally entrusted to them, and thus the melody in question, especially as the middle parts sometimes drowned the upper ones, did not stand out with sufficient clearness. Again, the difference between the tempo of the adagio molto and that of the andante moderato, was not strongly enough marked, and yet there was a beautiful effect intended by the composer on this change of the measure and movement. In the syncopated notes, also, the expression was frequently erroneous, from the fact of the second note being again played, and the intended rhythmus of the melody destroyed in consequence.

The brilliant execution, on the contrary, of the finale,' that splendid hymn to joy, corresponded to the execution of the first movement. Heir Stepan gave the difficult cadence, in the recitative commencement of the solo part, with marked certainty, and the chorus responded to his heroic challenge by a fiery energy, which lost nothing of its force to the very end. Most especially laudable and worthy of imitation was the clearness with which the chorus pronounced the words. Would that all soloists and chorus-singer3 would perceive that the clear pronunciation of the vowels and consonants is one of the best means for attaining purity and beauty of tone, distinct from the declamatory portion, which becomes a mere empty jingle, when the words are unintelligible. After what we have said concerning them in the Creation, the reader will easily believe that Mile. Rohn and Hcrr Schlbsscr acquitted themselves most admirably.

The second part of the concert was devoted more especially to solo performances. After so gigantic a work as the Ninth Symphony, carried out with all the musical resources at the conductor's command, solo performances, it is true, stood but a bad chance. For the magical tones which Herr August Kompel knows how to extract from the violin was it reserved, however, to overpower the impression of what had preceded, and, by his rendering of Spohr's "Gcsangsccnc," to excite the admiration of the audience. Each solo was followed by stormy applause, which, at the conclusion, burst forth into a tempest of enthusiasm and repeated recalls. It was perfectly just, moreover, that the modest artist should receive this ovation, for we never heard the magnificent composition so perfectly rendered. The way in which it was executed exhibited all the best qualities of sterling, noble, song-like, and manually-perfect violin-playing, which conjured up before us, once more, the master, Spohr himself, when, in the prime of his powers, he brought back with him, over the Alps, this concerto, which he had composed in Italy, and, for years and years, entranced with it Germany, France and England.

With the violin; thus artistically handled, the human voice alone could compete. It was, therefore, exceedingly right that, with the exception of a second work (Spohr's "Fantasia on Themes from Mozart''), performed by Herr Kompel, only vocal pieces were set down in the programme. The trio (" Euch lohne Bank "). from Fidelio, was, it is true, very well sung by Mile. Rohn, Hcrren Schlosscr and Stcpnn, but is not peculiarly adapted to the concert-room. The grand duet from Guillaume Tell, for tenor and bass, excited thunders of applause, for it was so dramatically sung, and given with such overwhelming truth of feeling and wonderful tone, by the two gentlemen just mentioned, that the illusion of the stage was fully preserved.

The last, though certainly not the smallest, triumph of the evening, was achieved by Mile. Rohn, with her masterly execution of that showpiece of fair vocalists at the present day, namely, Venzauo's "WalzAir." When we declare that such was her rendering of this composition, so clear her bravura, and so pure her shake, that even the sternest critic had to be on his guard lest he should at last pronounce the production bearable, we shall have said enough to mark our sense of the lady's virtuosity.

C. N. von Weber's "Jubel-Overturo" brought to a close this pleasing musical celebration of the anniversary of a Vocal Association, which we hope, with all our heart, will continue to progress in its artistic career, and in the same spirit which has hitherto guided it, for the next half century to begin with.

Of the serious and jocular speeches of the poems, and of the songs, which changed the two grand dinners, given after the concerts, into the most unusually delightful and exciting social gatherings, we will remember only the words which Herr Stepan spoke, on returning thanks for the enthusiastic mode in which his own health and that of his two fcllow-artisis from Mannheim bad been drunk. Herr Stepan observed, "that they (himself and two fellow-artists) could accept the proofs of approbation and the applause which they had received only as honourable marks of interest felt for the Art-Institution to which they

had the happiness of belonging. In the name of that Institution, therefore, as well as in the name of Hcrr Lachner, who had always proved a worthy guide for them, he begged to express his most heartfelt thanks." All honour to artists, who enhance their own professional merit by such estimable modesty, and grateful regard for their Director!

Dr. F. W. A Knoll..

THE MENTAL HISTORY OF POETRY.

Br Joseph Goljdard.

u To learrh through all I felt or saw.
The springs of life, the depths of awe,
And reach the law within the law."

Ttnnyiim.

What is Poetry? This is a question which at first sight appears very easily and very definitely answerable. Of all those distinctive yet broad ideas which, reduced to some suggestive and familiar epithet, float continually before the eyes of the social and intellectual world, passing at all times unchallenged for definition, and everywhere accepted as representative of positive and explored facts, — this idea of Poetry would seem to be one peculiarly adapted for such treatment, whilst at, the same time it is one the most favourably endowed for meeting any inquiry or dispute as to the originality and specialty of its nature, and to its claim, in general, of being associated, as it is always understood to be, with some of the most elevated mental offspring of humanity.

For does it not at once identify itself with that long and sustained strain of song which resounds from the dawn of history, and through all history, permeating all circumstances and conditions of man, speaking where all else is dumb, and living where all beside is dead; which, echoing richly from the past through the vaults of time, rings clearly in the present epoch and blends itself with the din of passing existence. Does it not at once identify itself with that fervent cxprcssional influence which, although now most frequently associated with an advanced and polished literature, is equally indigenous to the mind in all its stages, blending itself iudissolubly with the demonstrative phenomena arising out of all social, political, physical, or moral conditions of man? Does not the idea of Poetry seem to be one thus constituting, in fact, to the human world what the streams and rivers are in nature; flowing unbrokenly out of the remote to the present; watering with freshness, wheresoever it has run, the vast and shadowy field of the past; silvering in shining furrows that devoted area wherconsocver humanity has left its chequered trace; at all times and everywhere revealing in its breast the azure of the human mind, and throwing continually from its clear surface the mirrowed picture of all that is highest, purest, and most glorious in man?

This sketch pourtrays undoubtedly the general character of that idea which is called up in the mind at the name of Poetry. This is what it is generally. But what is it particularly? For it is one of those effects which though nevertheless, innately and at their core, unique, — can at the same time (and especially in their ordinary manifestation and that phase of their appearance, generally and popularly visible) be almost wholly accounted for; in the action of extraneous effects, or resolved into a combination of common and ordinary influences. For example, a picture is simply a copying the appearance of certain natural objects and effects. It is constituted generally by form and colour, and their different arrangements. Still, what is a picture, as a work of fine art? Where is the new element? Where the special influence, the literally original effect? In the same way into Poetry enters descriptive illustration, the record of human actions and events; the musings of tho mind, the airy and graceful pencillings of fancy, the picture-visions from the imaginative world; the charm of metrical proportion and the musical ring of alliteration. But these departments of mental action are all severally embraced in the general mental issues of History (political or social), and Philosophy on the one hand, and Painting and Music, on the other; and any passage of Poetry can be viewed generally as pertaining to one or more of these. Thus, the record of actions and events may be viewed as historical or general literary narrations, the expression prompted by sentiment or meditation, as Philosophy; the descriptive and imagerical effect, as Painting; and all metrical and alliterative effects, as an embryo exemplification of Music. Where, then, is that subtle element of affinity which selects, proportions, and blends these phenomena into a charm and new creation? What ia that magic, mental potency which moulds these into a new grace and breathes over them the poetic breath of life 1 Where is the soul of Poetry? Where the distinctive feature, or arrangement of features, which, turned by the mind of the poet, endows poetical literature with its uniqueness, and renders it an original and a separate effect of mental demonstration, distinct from all other literature and the rest of art; and what is the history of this process? To supply a complete, clear and logical answer to these inquiries is the object of this Essay. If it were replied at the outset that it is the simple fact of the above combination which (in cases where Poetry is involved) converts its different component parts into the unity of Poetry, then we should inquire,— what is this combination? for in it we find the effect of Painting and Music. What are these? What is the nature of their influence, and what of it goes towards producing the phenomenon of Poetry?

In endeavouring to trace and lay bare the pure vein of Poetry, whether in its unalloyed manifestation or in its deviations over the general field of mental demonstration, it is necessary to first consider and analyse the nature of its material constitution, and in doing this we shall, in a preliminary way, contrast it in this external aspect with its sister arts— Painting and Music.

The reader will remember tho fact that has just been alluded to, that Poetry in its material constitution is a compound influence, not a pure one. And in this respect it is distinguished rather markedly from each of the above arts, Painting on the one hand and Music on the other. For it will be perceived that both of these arts may at times attain a phase of manifestation, at which stage the constitution of either can be wholly resolved into one simple element. There may be effects of painting, consisting wholly and purely, in arrangements of colour, unalloyed in the slightest degree by the intrusion of objective form; as in music effects can exist constituted solely by arrangements of sound,— sound pure and free in its innate power and native beauty of influence, breathing no human burthen aud unmouldcd to the interpretation of any positive emotion.

Thus, in appearances wrought solely by the influence of atmosphere, in all effects of sky, in painting, there is nought but pure divested colour. In music also, of an abstract character, the sole influence is absolute sound. And thus, so far as regards their material constitution, both of these arts can at times be wholly resolved into these two simple elements (these sole ministering influences from the spiritual world of art to the physical world of sense),—unalloyed colour on the one hand, on the other unmixed sound, and, as has appeared in the examples just alluded to, still preserve vital and legitimate artistic form.

And such, moreover, is the purity in the nature of the constitution of these arts, that even in any phase of their manifestation, its preponderating element— the general material of their effect — will always be respectively that influence which is derived from the pure element of effect, "colour," or that of "tone," though these effects are harmonised and brought closer to man's appreciation by the entering into them of the suggestiveness of natural form on the one hand and moral form on the other.

This being the case, this preponderating purity and simplicity of the material constitution of the above arts stamps, of itself, upon them a general character of physical uniqueness and originality, and renders it appropriate to designate them, even in their physical nature, "pure arts," as are all the arts in their moral constitution. Now, it is in distinction to this designation, in the sense and circumstances in which it has just been applied to the two arts abovo spoken of, that is, with reference to material conditions, that we term Poetry a " compound art." Compound in its natural conditions, in which in no circumstances is there a preponderating element so pure, unalloyed, and containing so much abstract effect as exists in the cases of those sister arts which have been alluded to. Poetry cannot rise bodily above the earth, suffused in the misty veils of the morning air, the pallid shroud of twilight, the sky's ocean-blue, the burnished garments of the sun, or arrayed in the soft robes of the rainbow. Neither can it divest itself of matter, in that pure essence, that invisibility of sound, which results in musical tone, as the perfect purity and infinity of atmosphere constitutes azure. No; in Poetry there can be no abstract effect; Poetry must ever remain on earth and minister in nearness to man,— must ever be clad in the mortal coil of language, and convey its burthen to the mind by a medium and through a principle of suggestiveness. Thus it must ever mostly operate with those materials which it already finds in the ordinary experience of man, his conditions, his actions, and his history (as all the power of suggestiveness rests upon it common experience and knowledge,—particular and exceptional knowledge or experience being incapable of pure suggestion). Thus, although at times it may verge upon that other world of abstract effect and pure creation, into which Painting and Music can fully enter, Poetry, in its external form, will be ever seen to wear the general features of nature ; to reflect distinctly the ordinary phenomena attending humanity; to embrace bodily all mundane circumstances; to murmur audibly the common ocean-dirge of human emotion; and attend inevitably and continually the momentous current, the rapids, cataracts and catastrophes of human action; flashing in the irsi spray and heavenly light of its brilliant deeds, or eddying into its darkly-hidden caves and mystic depths.

This peculiar purity in the character of the material constitution of the arts of Music or Painting, as compared to the character of the material constitution of Poetry, gives rise to the further divergence of these arts respectively, that is, divergence not only in the material constitution of Music and Painting, as compared to that of Poetry, but with respect to the relationship of the general nature, material and moral, of these arts, namely, Music and Painting on the one hand and Poetry on the other.

For it has been observed that there is, so to speak, a fundamental charm, a reserve of effect, possessed by the former two branches of art, in the very material of their constitution, prior to that material having been so much as breathed upon by) the human mind; that there is a charm in mere colour or sound, absolutely and in the abstract,—loveliness in the ethereal, evanescent tint of formless colour,—beauty in the stray floating note of unmeasured musical sound. So that let but the vaguest action of the human mind modify these effects — let but the most indefinite mental prompting cause the colour to faintly reveal a form, or the sound to imply a method or measure, and there results at once it simple, but positive, forcible and unique manifestation of Painting and Music respectively. There is Painting and Music bodily and spiritually; bodily, because all the constituent material of these arts is present; spiritually, because there cannot exist either musical sound or pure colour, without their exciting a vague spiritual sentiment, though not a human emotion. As we observe, then, the general nature of these arts in their progressive stages, we shall see that this relationship of their material and moral constitution continues to prevail, and always in this general proportion. The broad, vague and mysteriously aesthetic influence of that which composes their material form, is the first power of their effect; the mental characters wrought therein, the second. Let it be particularly borne in mind that we are regarding the effect in its actual and present existence, not reverting for a moment to the process and history of its production. In place of analysing its production, we are considering solely its influence as it exists. Were we to revert to its history, we should simply reverse the above statement: we should accord, with regard to the relative importance of the influences which produced it, the first power to the mind, the second to the matter; but, supposing there to be given it certain effect of art as an existent fact, then, in analysing its actual influence in present vital action, we assert that the most prominent power of that influence lies in the intrinsic beauty, the native resources of charm which dwells in the material of its composition. Of which, such is the "empyreal substance," that even whilst it conforms itself to mental influence, absorbs all operative traces of the mind; and in the effect which it in its turn produces, though the physical senses are filled, and incited to exalted action; though the spiritual sympathies, the finer instincts of taste and aesthetic appreciation are distinctly reached, and powerfully impressed, the mind, the conscious reasoning faculty, is quite untouched and left totally nnappealed to. Even as the art of the horticulturist is wholly absorbed in the abstract beauty of nature, and the first power in the immediate effect of the result of that art, is the influence thus exerted by the charm of its material.

(To be continued.)

Boston, U.S.—The organ built by Messrs. E. and G. G. Hook, for the new church in Arlington Street, is one of the finest specimens of their well known skill and taste. It has plenty of power, a great variety of stops, which are remarkably beautiful singly, and blend very richly in the full organ; and the mechanical arrangements work, so far as the hearer could judge, to R charm. We have nowhere heard flutes of more liquid sweetness, or reeds of a more fine and racy flavour. The organ seemed all that one could desire; but why shall an "organ exhibition" always consist of making the organ do all sorts of things, except just that which it is designed to do? These endless, aimless wanderings among solo stops, those pot-pourris of operas, popular airs, bits of secular and bits of sacred, strung together upon idle fancies of the moment, may be very well to show the fine qualities of all the stops, as well as the skill of the exhibitor,—neither of which do we call in question,—but they fatigue and dissipate the mind just when it seeks to be edified and strengthened by the grandest of all instruments voicing the great thoughts of Eternity. If you would show the virtues of an organ, why not play organ music? Give these exceptional things their place, but do not let them usurp all. We do not object to the queer scrolls and monsters carved here and there about a Gothic cathedral; but not to show them, nor to give them shelter, except incidentally, were the sublime proportions of the cathedral reared.— Dwight's Boston Journal of Music.

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