all her usual excellence, and was well heard, although it was feared that her voice would not be strong enough for so large a space. Caradori is a nom de thé atre; this amiable and talented young lady came of a good German family, named Munk, but she always retained her theat rical name. It may be observed as an odd coincidence that Pasta, Vestris, and Caradori all have acted the page in "Le Nozze di Figaro," and none more successfully than the latter, who, rather by accident than by choice, made her début in that part. This made her fortune, for her charming manner and excellent performance laid the foundation of her fame. A similar piece of luck befell the celebrated Madame Malibran, who, as a young singer, leapt into fame through the temporary illness of Caradori. At the Handel Festival of 1834, the popular tenor, Braham, is said to have surpassed himself. He had long been at the head of his profession as an English singer. tha," "Deeper and Deeper Still," as also that which opens the "Messiah," "Comfort ye my People." The festival began on Tuesday, June 24th, with the Coronation Anthem, "Zadok the Priest," in compliment to the presence of their Majesties. This very fine composition did not well introduce what was to follow, namely, Haydn's Oratorio of the "Creation," which was given entire. The latter appeared tame and weak in comparison, though many parts of it are very beautiful, and some few of the choruses those of Handel. The second part of the extremely fine, almost emulating in sublimity concert comprised the Second and Third Parts of the Creation." The chorus concluding the Second Part of the Oratorio, "Achieved is the Glorious Work," and ending with "Hallelujah,” is exceedingly good.* The custom of rising at the" Hallelujah Chorus," which has continued to the pres at the first performance of the work in ent day, was begun on March 23rd, 1743, Lord Mount Edgcumbe first heard him London, when the king set the example. in 1803, when the musical world in LonMessiah," it is interA propos of the " don acknowledged that his voice was not esting to learn that when Handel went to only of the finest quality, but of great him the score of this oratorio, which he Dublin in the autumn of 1741 he took with power and sweetness. He possessed great versatility, a wide knowledge of music, completed in the incredibly short space of and wrote excellent songs. He could be, twenty-three days namely, between Auwhen he liked, two distinct singers, adapt-gust 22nd and September 14th of that ing himself to the requirements of his year. This great work was first heard in audience. Thus, to gain applause, Bra- Dublin, where it was given for the benefit of various local charities- among others, ham sometimes condescended to sing as ill at the play-house as he had done well for the relief of the prisoners in the Dubat the opera. His compositions had the lin jails. It is said that the hall in Fishamble Street was arranged to contain same variety, and he could equally write a popular noisy song for the one and its seven hundred persons instead of six hunvery opposite for the other. A duetto of dred, the ladies having been induced to his, introduced into the opera of "Gli come without their hoops, and the gentlesung by himself and Grassini, men without their swords. The impres possessed great beauty, and was in excel- sion produced by the "Messiah " lent taste. Through no fault of his own, profound, and its triumphant success was Braham seems to have done much injury never for one moment questioned. to English singing, by producing a host of imitators. For what is in itself not good, but may be endured from a fine performer, Orazzi," becomes insufferable in bad imitation. At this time, Braham, then far advanced in life, still retained all his musical powHis voice was considered to be as ers. good as at his prime; it had become neither weak, nor husky, nor tremulous, and easily filled the vast space with the finest effect. Nothing could have been finer than his delivery of the beautiful Recitative in "Jeph * Gli Orazzi e Curiazzi, the chef-d'œuvre of Cima rosa. was After the "Hallelujah Chorus" nothing fact, the opening day of this festival in the first concert is worthy of record. In caused a good deal of disappointment, and from its general feebleness the concert was regarded as a failure. The second day opened with Handel's Coronation Anthem, "The King shall Rejoice in Thy Strength," which, though inferior to the other, was given from the same proper motive. After some Italian songs, taken from sacred operas performed in Italy during Musical Reminiscences. + Dictionary of National Biography, vol. xxiv., p. 206. honor of the Emperor, and answering to our Lent, came Beethoven's "Judah," fol- | not one of them was fine or well sung, it lowed by Handel's beautiful song, "An- would have been much better again to omit gels ever Bright and Fair." Then came them. The third day's performance coma little of Haydn, extracted from his Sec-menced with a hymn composed by Haydn in ond Service or mass, consisting of the Kyrie Eleyson," sung by Madame Stockhausen, Rubini, and Zuchelli, with a chorus. "Luther's Hymn," which followed after a slight interval, was admirably sung by Braham. The organ accompaniment, and the chorus, performed sotto voce, produced an effect most devotional and affecting. This hymn seems first to have been introduced to notice in this country by Catalani, who sang it at York, where it gave the greatest delight. She could not sing it better than Braham; but the nature of her voice might perhaps be better suited to it. Throughout the whole performance nothing gave greater pleasure than this natural, unpretending air. The remainder of this part was all Latin. First came a song of Haydn's from his Fifth Service, by Giulietta Grisi, then in her twenty-second year; then the whole "Credo" from Mozart's First Service, of which the middle movement was a quar: tette, wherein Madame Stockhausen had a share. This part ended with a solo by that lady, with a quartette and chorus, forming another garbled extract from the Agnus Dei." Lord Mount Edgcumbe 66 says: sense. None of these pieces was effective, or gave much satisfaction. This mangling system is not more favorable to the music than to the It is disadvantageous to any composition to have a passage taken out here, another there; and not only separated from those that lead to and connect them, but tacked together irrelevantly and unmeaningly, so as not to form a uniform whole as they did in their proper place and order, but a mere patchwork; nor can a greater be conceived than was this first part of the concert. The other two were a regular connected performance, for they consisted wholly of the oratorio of "Israel in Egypt," one of the finest and most scientific of Handel's compositions. It was performed entire at the former celebrations, by the express command of George III., exactly as it was written, and with the additional, or, as it was said, the original name of "Exodus." The whole oratorio was then taken from Scripture. Now, poetry was introduced, some in blank verse, some in rhyme, consisting of recitatives and solos, none belonging to the original, some, I believe, not even composed by Handel. These and many more interpolations had been made when the oratorio was performed, in three parts, at the "ancient music," but were judiciously left out in the Abbey, on His Majesty's discovering that they made no part of the score. As It The second part was miscellaneous, and almost as great a medley as that noticed bebegan with a Motet by Mozart, in that sort of fore; but there were finer pieces in it. Latin verse in doggerel rhyme common in Roman Catholic services, but very offensive to English and classical ears. Tamburini led the opening of it, and there were other solos, ending in a chorus; but it was not striking. Next came an air, also of Mozart, sung by Grisi, beginning "Laudate Dominum," and ending with the "Gloria Patri." She sang this better than on the preceding day, and it was beautifully accompanied on the organ by Dr. Crotch. Then followed the beginning of a "Gloria in Excelsis," by Pergolesi, in which two boys were introduced, choristers of the Chapel Royal and Abbey. They had sweet voices; but it was very injudicious to employ them, as there was no want, certainly, of sopranos. We now come to the best performance, not of this day only, but perhaps of the whole; the magnificent scene from 66 'Jephtha,' 66 Deeper and Deeper Still," with the air, "Waft her, Angels." I have already expressed my unqualified admiration of the manner in which Braham executed this difficult and impassioned recitative, requiring so much pathos and varied feeling: it is not too much to say, it was perfect, and this alone would establish his reputation as a first-rate singer. The very fine chorus of Handel, "From the Censer," from "Solomon," closed the concert of this day with grand effect. great advantage to their performance. The raised these commemorative festivals error complained of before, the little use above the aspiration of those who first made of the best singers, was more conspicu- ventured to promote them; and has proved ous on this day than on any of the preceding; what was doubted by musicians in 1834 the five principal only sang once. Braham that the fame of George Frederick Hanopened the oratorio most excellently; but these were his last notes, he was heard del continues to be held sacred in the land of his adoption the land where his marvellous musical conceptions broke away from the thraldom of a degraded style, and, sinking deep into the heart of England, produced imperishable fruit. RICHARD Edgcumbe. 66 no more. Caradori sang well Rejoice Greatly;" but though a brilliant song (and it was her only one), it did not show her talents to the best advantage. The recitative, "There were Shepherds,' was allotted to Mrs. W. Knyvett; the air "Come unto Him," to Madame Stockhausen; and "I know that my Redeemer Liveth, to Miss Stephens, but she had nothing more. The last song named is much the finest in the oratorio; but, though well sung, the effect was by no means equal to that produced at the inaugural Festival, nor was it to be expected. Miss Stephens never had as much expression as her great predecessor, nor could excite as much feeling in her hearers; but there appeared little diminution of her powers in this performance. Of the other solo parts it is unnecessary to speak. Thus ended this great Festival, which was so impatiently looked forward to, excited such great curiosity, and was attended by so many thousands. To the present generation it was an entire novelty, and the eagerness to go to it probably equalled that which was manifested half a century ago; but all who, like myself, are old enough to remember the former performances, decidedly give them the preference over these; for though the instrumental part now was nearly as good as it could be, the choral appeared less strong, and in the principal vocal department there certainly was no comparison. The change of taste in music is so general, so total, that modern musicians do not now understand the ancient style, nor modern audiences appreciate it so highly. That of Handel in particular is so much gone out of fashion that it was feared the performances would not have been so well attended if, as on the former occasion, they had consisted of his alone. On this account it was that so much of other composers was introduced. I cannot think the choice from them was always happy; much was dull, much insipid, and except in a very few instances, there was not anything to be greatly admired, or make a strong impression. If even Haydn's chef d'œuvre, the "Creation," which is so beautiful in many of its parts, failed of making one, nothing else could. But all the other composers were overpowered by the gigantic strength of Handel, and they should have been kept apart. Thus ends a contemporaneous record of performances which are perhaps only interesting from the fact that they formed the dawn of far greater achievements. The wonderful development of later years, in both orchestral and vocal effects, has From The Gentleman's Magazine. INVISIBLE PATHS. AN EXTRACT FROM NATURE'S COMMONPLACEBOOK, WITH NOTES BY AN UNSCIENTIFIC NATURALIST. σε καὶ στίβου γ' οὐδεὶς τύπος.” "Nor of his footstep is there any trace." (Soph., Philoctetes, i. 29.) THE habit common to many birds, fishes, and insects, of travelling by one and the same route, is well known to observant sportsmen. It seems, however, to have escaped the serious notice of most writers on natural history, and I am not aware of any theory attempting to explain the origin or cause of this habit. With beasts the reason why the same path should be pursued is often conceivable, even where it is not at first sight apparent. You Take the case of a hare the beaten track, technically called the run, of a hare, is scarcely ever in a straight line. Notice the dark-green paths like narrow sheeptracks on the side of a chalk down. You will see they wind in many a curve. might think the object of these curves was to obtain an easier gradient; but examine has been badly chosen from an engineermore closely and you will see that the line ing point of view. The run often leads over steep and broken ground, where a slight deviation or even a nearer cut would have rendered it less precipitous. And yet watch pussy ascending or descending; unless she stops to feed on the road, she will keep strictly to the run, deviating neither right nor left-a "single hare's breadth," I had almost said. When the run lies through corn or long grass, the reason of its winding course is intelligible. There may have been thistles, tangled undergrowth, or some such impediment to be avoided, and although these may have been removed when the crop has been cut, the beaten track is still adhered to, as being softer to the feet. But, on the smooth side of a down, who can say why a hare should (unless startled) always elect to travel by one path? So far the paths are visible; but now let us consider the flight of birds. In fine, still weather, when neither the force of the wind nor a desire for shelter disturbs the even tenor of their way, many birds habitually travel by aerial paths as circuitous and almost as narrow in limits as is the run of a hare. A covey of partridges, when called together by the old birds and bidden to go to bed, will night after night fly over exactly the same part of a hedge, and then take exactly the same swerve to the right and left before "juggling down' to roost. Wood-pigeons, flying home after their evening drink of water, will, unless shot at or otherwise disturbed, always take the same curve in the air and pass over the same trees. And in their flight not only is the same lateral curve adhered to, but the variations in altitude at different points are regularly preserved. It is probable that these deviations from the straight course, both horizontal and vertical, are dictated by fear of surprise. A pigeon is an exceedingly cautious bird, and likes to know that no gunner is on the far side of a hedge before he flies over it. If the hedge be a low one, he can ascertain this at a safe distance while flying at no great elevation. If, however, the hedge be high, the pigeon cannot see what may be behind it until he is almost over the hedge, and therefore, to avoid surprise, he must fly at a greater altitude. In the same way he allows a wide margin laterally in turning the corner of a wood or hill. This circuitous flight is in strong contrast with that of a bird equally suspicious and cautious the carrion-crow. The expression "as the crow flies" has become a proverbial equivalent to "in a straight line." It_must, however, be remembered that the habitat of the crow is in wild and unfrequented places, and that, when on his marauding expeditions he passes over more populous parts, he travels at a height from which he can laugh at gunners. A rock-pigeon, flying from one mountain-top to another, usually flies nearly parallel to the ground, dipping with the valley and rising again with the slope of the mountain for whose summit he is bound. At first impression this would seem to be a waste of labor. Why should the bird (so to speak) go down hill only to go up again? A little consideration will, however, at once suggest the reason. The air at great altitudes is sensibly rarefied. The ratio of the specific gravity of the bird to that of the air is therefore much increased at high elevations. At the same time the rarefied air yields less resistance to the stroke of the wings. It is probable, therefore, that the effort required for a short flight at a great altitude exceeds that required to cover a much longer distance at a lower level. So far we have been able to give a conjectural reason for the apparent vagaries in the flight of birds. But why do rooks before going to bed always dance a wild quadrille in one and the same section of the sky? Why do woodcocks, when flushed at some favorite haunt, pursue the same tortuous path through the covert that has been winged by their predecessors from time immemorial? And why do wild ducks flying up a stream always follow the same course? This last question is the more perplexing as their path does not seem to be determined by fear of ambush. They will take a short cut over a withy plantation or rod eyot, as it is called, which might conceal a dozen guns, and then follow the windings of the stream amongst the trees and bushes, when they might take a shorter and safer course over open meadows. Again, why should ducks that have flown for miles in the pattern of a letter V, at a certain spot suddenly fall into single file, and having travelled some little distance in that order, no less suddenly resume their wedge-shaped formation, and this at a height that excludes the possi bility either of insufficient room for their evolutions or of the risk of exposure to 2 raking fire from the fowler's barrel? And now, passing to fish, a change of formation very similar to that performed by the ducks is often to be observed in the movements of the former. Watch a number of roach finning their way up a river. For some distance they travel leisurely in an irregular mob or shoal-suddenly, without apparent reason, in a broad and weedless part of the stream maybe, they will fall into single file and follow each other, hurrying along as if there were not room enough for more than one to pass at a time and they were anxious to gain more open water. I have observed this manœuvre many times at the same place, but under circumstances so varied with regard to current and depth of water, that I can make no conjecture as to its cause. Trout do not often congregate in shoals, but nevertheless it would seem they travel by a common path. I use the word "travel" in a restricted sense, as I am not speaking of the migra tory species, but of the common brown trout (Salmo fario); nor do I intend it to include roaming in search of food, in which case the course is determined by conditions not now under consideration, such as the direction of the wind, the set of the current, the depth of the water, the position of weeds and of overhanging trees, etc. My meaning will be made more clear if I relate the circumstances under which I first became aware that trout travel by the same path. again met the stream fifty yards higher up. There I was to extend the rod horizontally over the water, and following the course of the stream, to walk slowly down towards him. Having given me these directions, he knelt down and extended the net as far as he could reach, dipping it under the surface of the water close to a bed of weeds on the farther side of the stream, the mouth of the net facing up stream. I followed my instructions, wondering what was to be the result. The net could not have measured more than eighteen inches in diameter. The width of the stream at the point where the keeper knelt was at least nine feet. Allowing two or even three feet for the weeds, there still remained a passage of four and a half feet unobstructed by either weeds or net. was Was it probable that so sharp-sighted, active a fish as a trout would swim into the net when there was plenty of room to pass beside it? True, the water shallower on the keeper's side of the stream, but there was depth enough everywhere there was even depth enough for a fish to swim under the net if hard pressed. Some years ago I was anxious to get some trout from the Darenth, that I might compare them with those from the Wandle. I had no friends on the Darenth, but a gentleman, since dead, on learning my wish, courteously gave me a letter to his keeper, requesting the latter to procure such specimens as I might desire to have. The keeper, on reading the letter, said that there was no fly up, and that he feared he should be unable to get the fish until a quarter or twenty minutes past six that evening. Fixing a precise time for the capture of the trout awakened my curiosity, which was still further excited by the evident reluctance on the keeper's part to allow me to accompany him. A little "palm oil," however, eased the friction, and we parted - I lighter in spirits, However, I extended my flag over the the keeper heavier in pocket, and both water and walked down stream. The mill agreed to meet again at six o'clock sharp. having ceased working on the main river On leisurely approaching the keeper's below the tributary, the water above the cottage at a quarter to six, I was surprised mill was tanked up and rising. A rising to see a red pocket-handkerchief fluttering | water often tempts trout to enter small in the breeze. It was fastened to the top ditches and tributary streams in the hope ring of a long bamboo fishing-rod that of finding insects surprised and carried leant against the porch of the door. I away by the rising flood. This was the quickened my steps, thinking the fish case then, and many a trout, slowly finning must have advanced their dinner-hour, and its way up the stream in search of food, that the flag had been hoisted as a signal turned tail and darted down towards the for the immediate attack. By the rod main river on the approach of the red flag. stood a large landing-net with a long han- When I came to the keeper, he had landed dle. In the porch sat the keeper, smoking two brace of fine fish; he said that they a long clay pipe. On my arrival he partly always followed the same road and shot rose, and motioning me to take a seat straight into the net, the largest fish leadbeside him on the bench, remarked that ing the way. Hence he had taken no unthe mill had not yet stopped working. dersized fish, although a number of small Apparently satisfied that this explanation ones had passed after he had netted the was all that could be reasonably expected, large ones. He had missed landing two he continued to smoke in silence. At last fish only; these had shot into the net the murmur of the distant mill ceased. together with such force that his grasp on The ashes of the pipe were deliberately the handle had for the moment relaxed tapped out; the rod and landing-net were and they had escaped. I have since tried shouldered, and the march began. Fol- the same plan with success when fishing a lowing the downward course of the river, Hertfordshire stream. I did so merely as we came to a small tributary. We pro- an experiment in the presence of the ownceeded some little way up the bank of er's water-bailiff, who seemed much astonthis stream till we came to a sharp curve.ished at the result. I, of course, returned Here the keeper gave me the rod and my the fish to the water, and mention the ininstructions. I was to go inland, keeping cident only in confirmation of my proposiout of sight of any fish in the water, till Ïtion that trout travel by a common path, |