Iie is an anomaly. Never at rest and yet an idle man. Selfish, but continually promoting the success of others. Worshipped when sought after, to be, when found, remorselessly tormented. He leads the most anxious life, and can, nevertheless, indulge in venison and champagne while others make his fortune. He is at once the most despotic ruler and submissive slave. The "super" trembles at his nod while he is kneeling at the prima donna's feet. He is the impersonation of unlimited liability. He is liable to the public, liable to the artists, liable to government, liable to proprietors, in short, liable to everything and everybody except himself.

By nature amphibious,- at times strutting proudly upon the high and dry land of prosperity; at others wallowing in the muddy waters of misfortune; equally familiar with both — a philosopher—he is indifferent to either. His habits are luxurious, even to extravagance. Whether fortune frown or smile, he keeps his carriages and horses, is a good whip, and, if not gouty, riding is his favourite exercise. 1 have studied the "enterprising Impresario" carefully in every phase of his existence, and confess my inability to understand him thoroughly. He varies in some respects from every other member of the community. I purpose giving an account of my experiences and observations of the race, in order that others may form some notion of their anomalous characteristics.

I recal with pleasure that I was of service to the first " enterprising Impresario" with whom I became acquainted. The incident is fresh in my memory. I still hear the shrill angry voices; but let me tell the story.

It was some years ago, in a London theatre late at night. The performance of the evening had terminated; the audience had dispersed; the gas was extinguished—all was dark and silent. I had occasion to see the Impresario in question upon important business, and was requested by his secretary to wait but a few moments, and that he would be disengaged. The moments had extended into boars, and I was still doing, as the French say, Vantichambre. The secretary had locked up his desk and departed — I was left alone to await the desired interview. Some time after I had been thus forsaken, and when almost on the point of also taking my departure, my attention was arrested by the sounds of high words in the adjoining room, followed by a noise of what appeared to be the clashing of swords. The hour of night and stillness of all around added to the interest of the situation, and perhaps made the noise seem more important than it really was. I listened attentively—the quarrel waxed warmer— there were two voices audible, although one was less distinct, being overcome by the power and volubility of the other. Both spoke in a foreign tongue. A sword, or some other steel instrument, was evidently in the hands of one of the disputants, from its ringing sound when struck forcibly against the ground in the anger of the holder. Everybody had.lef't the building; there was no one within hearing, except myself and the two whose dispute I overheard. What course to take ?—Whether to interfere, perhaps to prevent bloodshed, or quietly await the result of the quarrel? I was a stranger, quite unknown to both, in fact, was ignorant who they really were. My unceremoniously rushing in upon them would perhaps be resented as an intrusion, and yet some interference seemed imperatively necessary. I listened again, and knocked at the door. Some time elapsed before I was answered. At last, being told to," come in," I entered, and a most remarkable scene I witnessed. The "enterprising Impresario" whom I then saw for the first time, was seated at his writing table, surrounded by the usual quantity of letters, newspapers, and play bills peculiar to a manager's room, while before him stood a figure in stage costume, brandishing a sword, and speaking in a voice excited to the highest pitch by the most violent passion. The quiet manner and seeming indifference of the Impresario, afforded a remarkable contrast to the menacing gestures of the other, whose anger was evidently exasperated by his imperturbable coolness. I was requested to be seated, and my surprise was great, when, upon looking at the figure a second time, I discovered it to be that of a female in male attire! At length the Impresario rose and came towards me. The lady had not observed my entrance. Upon seeing a third

£erson present, her manner completely changed, and making some urried apology, she suddenly left the room. It appeared she was a member of the comp and had, after the performance, rushed to the manager in her stage dress, to complain of some real or imaginary grievance which it was utterly hopeless the unoffending Impresario could rectify. "Had you not so kindly interrupted us," he said to me, "we should have been here till daylight or God knows what might have happened." And thus I released the first "enterprising Impresario of my acquaintance from an unpleasant position, and rendered him a service for which he was grateful ever after.



To the joined Authors of the " Goose with the Golden Eggs."

Gentlemen, Bublesqgists, and Wits,—Having suggested improvements in some of our musical instruments, I beg to add one on the elegant and enlivening art of dancing, which some one, at a future period, will probably introduce to the notice of the public.

Like other accomplishments, dancing has undergone changes during the last thirty years, and the music that accompanies it become of a more varied character; and instead of only one description, we have five kinds of tunes—the waltz, polka, quadrille, hornpipe and country dance; and although the waltz, polka, and quadrille are generally of a lively character, the shortness of the tunes renders them, after a few times hearing, monotonous to advanced musicians.

To improve upon our present dancing music, and at the same time introduce and render familiar to the million the higher provinces of instrumental composition, it has occurred to me that figures might be invented by a skilful dancing-master to fit the quick movements of the best overtures and symphonies, the slow introduction to the former to be played by the band, and the allegro danced; and by repeating some portions of the figure, it might be spun out the length of the quick portion of the overture, and, with a little extra tuition, become as common to dance the overture to Figaro or Tancredi as a polka or a set of quadrilles.

The first allegro of a sinfonia being equal in length to about three seta of quadrilles, 1 would recommend the opening adagio to be played without a figure, the allegro following danced, the next movement played, to afford the dancers time to rest, and then finish with the minuetto and finale; the former danced as a waltz, and the latter with a suitable figure. This new school of dancing music would render familiar to the majority the finest instrumental compositions of the greatest masters, and thus elicit more attention when played at our places of public amusement than they do at the present, besides procuring them a larger sale at the music shops, and also holding out encouragement to such of our rising composers as possess talent enough to write them to try their hand, restoring the public taste in the majority to what it was forty years ago, which has been on the decline for genuine scientific music, instead of improving, during thelast thirty years, that any person mayperceive who observes the amount of attention paid by the audience at our theatres and tavern concert-rooms when a symphony oi overture is even well performed by a good band at the former, and on the pianoforte at the latter, whatever some may he inclined to assert to the contrary. Yours, Gentlemen and Wits,

Hatdh Wilson.

Miss Poole.—We are happy to be able to inform our readers that the report of the death of this charming vocalist, which obtained such currency at the beginning of the week, and caused such deep grief to her numerous admirers, is entirely without foundation. Miss Poole has been indisposed, but is now so far recovered as to be on the point of resuming her professional duties. It would appear that the more distressing a rumour the wider its probable circulation, for we have received inquiries from all quarters respecting the one which we now with so much pleasure and satisfaction contradict.

liters la % tfbiior.


Sin,—Having read some time since an article on the Floral Hall Concerts, in which occurs the following passage:—

"It is unnecessary to say more than that this concert was regarded somewhat in the light of a festival, being expressly 'for the benefit of Mr. Alfred Mellon' (wo had been led to believe, by the way, that the entire series were for his 'benefit;' in other words, that the undertaking was exclusively his own,)" &c.—

Will you kindly permit me to state that the undertaking was exclusively mine, and that no other person had any interest in it whatever.

It being customary for managers to take a benefit at the conclusion of the season, I only followed an established rule in announcing a night as my own. Apologising for troubling you with this letter,

I remain, Sir, your obliged and obedient Servant,

Alfbed Mellon.

1 i


Sib,—It is with more than usual gratification that you should chronicle the first performance of this season. The programme of coming events is big with a promise of Beethoven's Mass in D, a work twice pei formed five years ago, but since then most undeservedly laid on the shelf. Another good thing from the Society's repertoire, which is not often done, is Solomon, and its performance on Friday week now claims your attention.

The oratorio Solomon is throughout a remarkable and characteristic work of Handel. Among the choruses, we find " With pious heart," "From the censer," "From the East," and several others which contain some of his greatest ideas, and many of which exemplify his skill and felicitous use of the antiphonal form. Indeed, the opening chorus of the second part, "From the censer curling rise," must be clashed with "The Horse and his Rider," and "He gave them hailstones for rain," as a specimen of a style in choral treatment, which is without a rival for breadth and grandeur of effect, and has been seldom equalled in point of skill, or tact in management of voices and instruments. One or two of the choruses are unique, such as "May no rash intruder," and "The name of the wicked," each being an individual specimen of phases of Handel's multifarious and comprehensive style. The admirable overture and accompaniments of this work are an additional charm; and among the airs are the well-known " What tho' I trace ?" and " Every sight these eyes behold."

The execution of the instrumental and choral portion of the work on Friday night was, as you are aware, apart from the wellknown capabilities of the Society, remarkable for its general efficiency and accuracy. The choruses with solo, "Music spread," &c. were sung—as you must remember—with an artistic feeling rare in so large a body. The much talked of reform in the choir, seems to have come into operation. Are you of my opinion?

The solo singers are answerable for the effect which this oratorio produces to an unusual extent. The solos, particularly the recitatives, are numerous and long, and require the most artistic treatment. When it is stated that the soprano music was in the hands of Mad. Sherrington-Lemmens and Miss Banks, your readers may be assured that all that an easy and fluent delivery, an unswerving faultlcssness of intonation and wonderfully distinct articulation, joined with a perfectly natural, free, and unaffected style, could do, in exaltation of so great a work, was done. In contralto singing, Mad. Sainton seems to gain in beauty of voice and dignity and benignity of manner, no less than in vocal skill and knowledge of the art; and yet this would have been thought impossible when we remember her singing during the last few yenrs. Mr. Montein Smith is welcome on many accounts; a good lieulthy manly tenor voice is a rarity in the present day; and Mr. Smith always uses his natural gift with taste and judgment. Mr. Lewis Thomas claims (and readily obtains) credit for the possession of one of the finest real bass voices we have had for some years. The volume of tone, and the vigour of the lower notes is

remarkable ; while the manly expression with which he renders his most ponderous passages shows artistic taste of no common order.

In this oratorio, as in Deborah and some others, Mr. Costa's pen has been called into requisition for additional accompaniments, To meddle with Handel is an unwelcome task, and includes rivalry with Mozart among other considerations; but making every allowance for the difficulty of the case,— &c, &c, &c.

I am, Sir, your obedient


[We agree here with " Shoulder," if not there; which, he will urge is neither here nor there; to which we may re-urge, or r'urge—in extenuation of a passage omitted, and for which "&c. &c. &c." must be accepted as substitute— "Quippe non delicto regum illos, sed vires ac majestatem insequi." The words applied by the Latin historian to the persecutors of crowned heads will serve equally well as a reproof to " Shoulder," in his new capacity of persecutor of batoned hands. He pursueth not the faults but the strength and majesty. What says Pascal?—" La ration agit avec lenteur . . . . ou elle iegare;" and Burns? — "Ah Nick! ah Nick! (Old Nick—" Shoulder") it is na fair;" and Huon of Bordeaux,—"Je'scais bien vetir le havbert, et mettre le heaume enmonckef? Michael Costa knows eke.—Ah "Shoulder !"—must it be spoken of you, as of the ambitious man in Burton's Partn. 1 Sec. 2, Mem. 3, Subs. 11—we quote from memory—" Siappetitum explere non potestfurore corripiturf It is sad to think it, but we are shouldered into that conclusion. "Sape homo de vancc gloria conlemptu, vaniu* glo~ 7-iatur," as Shirley Brooks might exclaim, without in the least parodying Austin.—Petipace.]


Sib,—Mr. Punch, who, like a wise man and philosopher, reads the Musical World, informs the ordinary world that he has learnt from your columns how the natives of Baden-Baden, sensibly appreciating the genius of Meyerbeer, had newly christened one of their thoroughfares, VAvenue Meyerbeer, in honour of the composer of Lea Huguenots. To the best of my recollection, however, it was stated that the inhabitants of Spa, in Belgium— not of Baden, in Baden—had added to the interest and attractions of their pretty town, by paying so graceful a compliment to their honoured guest, who has composed many of his chefs-d'amre while residing amongst them. I am sure that Mr. Punch would no: willingly disturb the harmony existing between the Musical Wobld and Spa, and must therefore conclude that your humorous contemporary has for once been guilty of a lapsus pennee—a-liaer. —Yours,

Porcupine or Livebfool. [If so, a considerable calami—ty.Petipace.]

(From^ Punch.)

The art of (street) organ-playing, dear Mr. Punch, has attained to such a degree of popularity at the present day, especially in the suburbs of London, that, knowing as I do from a constant

firusal of your pages the great interest you take in the subject, venture to offer a few suggestions for your consideration; and my remarks will perhaps have greater weight if I mention, with all due modesty, that I am myself a performer of some experience on that noble instrument, as I have frequently in my younger days, by the offer of small coins, induced the gentleman whs attended our house to allow me to turn the handle of his organ.

I would suggest that, with regard to the performance of the most favourite airs,—as, for example, Zf Balen or the Pouxr of Love, — it should not be considered necessary to play then oftener than about twenty-five times each iu any one place, as a more frequent repetition occasionally produces a feeling of i

monotony; and if the organ should happen to be revoltingly out of tune, as might sometimes be the case, the performer should consider himself limited to a fifteenth repetition of those everfresh and beautiful melodies. In cases where the player accompanies the organ with his voice,—where a'pedal passage is introduced,—where there is a monkey obbligato,—in short, where any gesticulation is required from either performer,—the duration of the entertainment should be limited to half an hour before each house, as a longer performance is an unreasonable tax on the hysical powers of the executants. In case of sickness in any ouse which he might visit, I think it should certainly be left to the judgment and good taste of the performer to determine how long he should play; and no remonstrances ought, under any circumstances, to be offered by the inhabitants. I trust that these few suggestions will be received in the spirit in which they are offered by those whose arduous business it is to perambulate the streets for our gratification, and I hope that they will meet with due consideration from all admirers of the Italian school of of organ-playing.

I remain, dear Mr. Punch, very truly yours,

A Lover or The "Divine Abt."

New Yobk.—Looking back during the period of some five or six months since I have written to you, I find that I have passed through some agreeable if not startling musical experience. Various brief opera seasons under transient Italian and German dynasties have come and gone. Stigelli, whom I hailed with rapturous delight on his first appearance here, has become the tenor of a New York audience. Fabbri has appeared and established a good lyrical reputation. Colson has sung and acted and dressed, and looked so indescribably bewitching, that with half the opera enthusiasts in New York I have fallen deeply—oh! so unfathomably deeply—in love with the delightful creature. Adelina Patti has worn her popularity not quite out—but 'sufficiently so to demand a change. Carl Formes has returned, and D Angri has arrived, and that classic ruin Frezzolini, whose every operatic performance (notwithstanding her decaying voice) is positively worth shekels of gold, has flitted away down South, to Dixie, for all I know. Were you ever in the Mammoth Cave? It is, with all its wonders, the most god-forsaken, dreary, gloomy spot mortal ever entered. Yet there is some strange mystic power in the place to transfigure the weakest, most wretched music into harmony for the celestial spheres. After poking about in the bowels of the earth for three or four hours, visitors to the Cave arrive at Echo River, where they embark on a disgustingly muddy scow, or if the party is large enough, two or three wretched boats are brought into requisition. The women are all dressed in fancifully coloured bloomer dresses, and with the uplifted lanterns, present a strange and weird appearance as the boat is pushed from the shore, and floats down into the blnck gloom, the lights reflecting themselves on the surface of the deadly still water, and lighting up with strange effect the arch of rock overhead. When they are fairly out of sight we enter the other boat, and ourselves push out into the dark stream. Dark— awfully dark it is. The dark river of Death finds on earth no more vivid parallel than this. You know, in the first picture of Cole's " Voyage of Life," the gloomy river of the past, from which float* out into life and light the little boat of the baby voyager. The stream issues from a dark rocky cavern, mysterious and unknown. Such a stream is this on which we are embarked. Silent and gloomy, dark and mysterious, it serves as a type of the past and the future—of the past mystery whence all life evolves of the inscrutable future whither all life tends. The feeling of security is not very great. The boat sinks down almost to the water's edge, and the perpendicular slippery rocks on either side offer no ledge on which a shipwrecked voyager might find a temporary footing. Above, sometimes so low that you must crouch to avoid it, and again so high as to be scarcely visible, rises the rock-roof, while the water in which you glide is thirty feet in depth, and as cold as the brow of a corpse. There is no sound but the rippling made by the boat; not a cricket along the shoreless stream, not a fish to plunge up and flash a moment in the air before returning to its

watery home—no symptom of life, no sound, no motion save that made by ourselves.

Hark! there is a sound! Far off* a delicate shade of music, so faint as to seem the ghost of some wandering echo. But by degrees it increases. It becomes clear and defined. Rich harmony trembling with strange sensuous wildness—fluttering around the rocky projections, swelling in waves of harmony to the arched roof above. Now it appears to come from one direction, now from another. Anon a higher note or strain is heard like some clear voice rising above a mighty chorus. Never did syren sing more magic songs to listening traveller, never did the mysterious maiden of Lurlei-burg chant more entrancing melody to the unwary boatman who floats along the moonlit Rhine. Suddenly a turn of the boat brings you opposite a break in the perpendicular rock-shore, and perched upon a mass of broken rock you see a party of four negroes playing upon violins and a cornet. Those are the syrens, these the LurTines of Echo River. Out on the earth's surface their music would be merely quaint and odd, but here, in the Mammoth Cave, it is weird and unearthly.

Floating away, out of sight of the above minstrels,—who are in fact the barber, bootblack, or waiter from the hotel at the mouth of the cave—their music resumes its supernatural tones and effect, and so until we land at the opposite shore of the dark river, it haunts the ear with its peculiar harmony—while ever after it forms the most vivid reminiscence of a visit to the Mammoth Cave. —Correspondent of Dwighfs Journal of Music.

Boston, United States.—We hear of a movement for the organisation of an Amateur Musical Society, composed of gentleman in this city, who propose meeting weekly for the purpose of practising the orchestral works of the great masters, under the guidance of one of our best musical directors. In some features this organisation will resemble a club, which known to many of us as the "Boston Amateur Club" has existed here for many years (we think since about 1830) but has lately been discontinued. Most of the best members of the old Club, whose performances have been listened to by many of us with much interest, will compose the nucleus of the new organisation with the addition of some fresh active members, and, if found necessary, some professional talent. In one important point the enterprise will be new to us. It is intended to add associate members to the active ones of the association, somewhat on the plan of the Orpheus Club," so that those who cannot play may at least help pay, and have the pleasure of being present at the musical and social meetings of the Society, by thus contributing a part of the material aid which every such enterprise requires. The members are gentlemen of the highest standing in this community, of culture and refinement. We understand that the first meeting for the season will be held on Monday evening next, to organise for the winter campaign, which offers an opportunity for new members to join.—D wight's Journal of Music.

Milan. — Yesterday was given the Barber of Seville with a perfection of execution seldom heard on the stage of our greatest theatre. This could not be otherwise when the parts were confided to the artistic intelligence and prodigious throats of a Witty (Whitty), a Steechi Bottardi, and a Ronconi. They did not sing the smallest branch of that divine music without being two and three times recalled; in fact the Barbiere was yesterday evening one applause, one ovation. Steechi sustained his well-merited reputation ; Ronconi betrayed a talent superior to every eulogium, and played the part of Figaro, both in singing and acting, to make it appear a novelty—a creation whose originality was all and en tircly his own. The Witty, who appeared in the Cenerentola, the humble, mortified, and ill-treated child of the ashes, became in the Barbiere the brilliant and astute Rosina. She adapted so well every expression of her face, every smile and every gesture to all the different and difficult points of her position, that it would be hard to decide whether she is more charming as a singer than she is as an intelligent and accurate actress. Don Bartolo (Parodi), Don Basilio (Rigo), and even Berta (Nebuloni), had applause in their airs, that they sang in a way that rendered them worthy of standing by the side of companions of such reputation.—Lombardia.

At the Santa Radcgonda the Cenerentola has ceased for the


pitch aside the gods and "demis") of ancient Greece, were ambitious (many—most of them) to excel in music ; and it is recorded against, rather than in favour of, Themistocles, that he was not. Socrates himself, "the divine" master of Plato (a capital musician, Plato), and fountain of philosophic wisdom, reviled himself for having in his youth neglected the study of this art. Said Socrates to one of his disciples,— "Had I been skilled in music, I could have softened Xantippe." What werejhis last words to" Cebes, before ingurgitating the fatal draught? "I have, O Cebes, all my life been haunted by a spirit, which seemed repeatedly to say to me, ' O Socrates! compose and practise music'" The admonition of the spirit plagued him in his latest moments; and, when, under sentence of death, he diverted himself with turning iEsop's fables into verse, and composing a hymn to Apollo (Phoebus), the only sort of harmonious essay in his power. Our authority for this is Plato himself, who relates the story in the fourth division of his immortal Phcedon. Even Horatius (Mayhevius—not Flaccus) must yield the bell to Socrates. But, if he will not give in to the master of Plato, is he ready to face the author of Ecclesiasticus? Does not the sonofSirach declare the ancient poets and musicians to be worthy of honour, and place them among the benefactors of mankind?

Ex uno—we forgot the rest. Music has ever been the delight of accomplished princes and the most elegant amusement of polite courts. Thus might argue Mr. Samuel Warren, if not Mr. James Hannay, no less conservative though better worth conserving. Mr. James Hannay might argue (and may, if he pleases, in the Edinburgh Courant), that music is just at present so combined with things sacred and otherwise important, to say nothing of its close connection with our pleasures and amusements, that it seems almost a necessity of existence to nine out of ten of us. Magnam vim hubet musica (Mr. Hannay might continue); it plays a considerable part in the Divine service of our churches; it is essential to military discipline; and, in its absence, the theatres would languish, if not die out. There is scarcely a private house without its flute, its fiddle, its harmonium, its harp, its organ, or its piano; it refreshes the fatigued spirits (animos tristes subitb exhilarat); is an antidote (when not an enchanting aid) to melancholy; and mitigates the pains of sickness. Still more, it is a blessing to humanity, for it tends to banish mischief*, and blunt the edge of care.

We never much cared for street music; "the voice of a mandrake had been sweeter;" but that is beside the question. The theme is not exhausted, although our pen is dry; next week we may redip it and resume.

E should hardly have expected such an immediate and complete justification of the remarks in the last letter upon the decline of the Vienna Opera, from our own correspondent at Vienna, as is contained in the announcement just issued by the Government, of which the following is a translation :—

"It has been ordered that the management of the Court Opera-house, lying contiguous to the Karntner-gate, Vienna, shall pass into private hands, the concession to continue from 1st April, 1861, to 31st March, 1866; in the event, however, of the newly-projected Opera-house being opened by the expiration of the term stated, such concession thereupon to cease.

"Iu certain conjunctures, moreover, the entrepreneur, as well as the management of the Imperial Court theatres, would be at liberty to

• "Mischief" is a comprehensive word.

rescind the contract on giving due notice. The representations are limited to operas and ballets; and, although it is desirable that operas in Italian should be given, this is not made an express condition; in tho tenders it should, consequently, be stated whether and under what conditions the entrepreneur would be inclined eventually to submit to tho requirements set forth in paragraph 7 of " agreement." The subvention to be accorded by the State should be taken into account in such tenders. The entrepreneur would be required to give caution-money equal to one-half the subvention, such caution-money in no case to range lower than 60,000 florins Austrian currency.

"Ttu final particulars of agreement may be learned at the Imperial Finanz-Procuratur, Vienna, throughout the provinces at the respective statthaltereis (lieutenancies); and abroad, at the Imperial Legations. Persons making tenders are required to affix their signatures to the same, expressing themselves fully bound by the several conditions.

"In the event of several persons tendering conjointly, they must hold themselves conjointly liable.

"Those persons who 'are desirous of making tenders are invited to send them under seal to the Imperial Obers Kammcreramte (Chamberlain's office), as being charged with the chief direction of the Court theatres."

What is this but a tacit acknowledgment of the incapacity and uselessness of the present management? Although a change is absolutely necessary, the measure now resorted to is extreme, and not, in our humble opinion, very likely to succeed. Where is the sanguineen/rcpreweftr to be found who will subscribe to such conditions as are here proposed? In plain terms, the announcement says that a private director is wanted to carry on the operas at his own risk for a short time, while a new theatre is being built, the Government being unable, from loss of money or some other cause, to continue the present undertaking. The private entrepreneur is to be liable to ejectment at the option of the Government, upon a certain notice being given; he is to deposit cautionmoney to the amount of 5,000/., and his lease is in no case to exceed five years. As to the subvention mentioned, it must be looked upon as a bait to induce some private manager to carry on that which the State has found to be a losing speculation. The agreement to which allusion is made, contains, we may suppose, other conditions equally .onesided as those stated in the circular. Every publicity is to be given to the fact, that " it has been ordered that the management shall pass into private hands ;" but if the terms are none other than are set forth in the announcement quoted, it will be more difficult than is supposed to find "private hands'" ready and willing to direct the Court Opera-house of Vienna, notwithstanding the dignity of such a position. Anxeater.

Miss Asabblla Goddabd has just concluded a short professional tour in Devonshire—a speculation (annually renewed, and with always increasing success) of the able and enterprising Sir. Ashe of Exeter. Brilliant and well attended concerts were given, alternately, at Plymouth, Torquay and Exeter—the lion's share falling to the capital town, as a matter of course.* At all these the playing of Miss Arabella Goddard was the theme of unanimous admiration and applause. Her first appearance in London for the winter season is announced to take place in St. James's Hall, at the Monday Popular Concerts, Dec. 17th, when among other pieces she is to perform (with Signor Piatti), Professor Sterndale Bennett's sonata-duo for pianoforte and violoncello.

Hebb Moliqub And The Norwich Festival. — The sum awarded to Herr Molique by the committee of the Norwich Festival, as a remuneration for his successful oratorio of Abraham, has been returned to the honorary secretary, Mr. Roger Kerrison, with a request on the part of the composer that it may be presented to the charitable fund in behalf which the festival was instituted.— Times.

* We have received several letters from correspondents in Devonshire containing details to which we shall give publicity in our next numbet

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