cannot but think the subject (the Cupids | skill: the sky, in particular, is chastely We fear this is a fruitless appeal to humanity. There is little either of interest or character in the figures. The ass is the best part; and this patient animal, whose life is too generally passed in alternations from starving to drudgery, and from drudgery to blows, maintains a respectable appearance in Mr. Bigg's canvas, as it has done in the works of our best artists, Gainsborough, Morland, Ward, &c. The ass is indeed a useful creature for the CCXXXIX. TEETH ON EDGE; OR THE and finely painted. The picture altogether No. CXXVI. THE YOUNG FALCONER.- carried on by the attendants, while the CXXVIII. VIEW ON THE ROAD TO Bo- Of the former work we do not see much to remark beyond the harmony of colour-We believe the brother of the preceding. ing by which it is characterized, and, speak- With a good eye to colour, we do not think ing with reference to the great talent dis- this artist (in CCXXV) has been equally played by this artist on former occasions, successful in the drawing of his figures, or we find ourselves unable to compliment has been sufficiently simple in the compothis effort. The Circassian entirely upset sition. It is a subject of grandeur and all our notions of Circassian beauty, for severity, brought too much into the light. while we were staring about for a lovely His hare and pheasant is an exceedingly female, we never once thought of fixing well painted piece of still life, and does upon the Lapland-looking gentleman here great credit to his technical skill, from presented to us. He is nevertheless very ably which the other productions do not detract. painted, and we doubt not that the costume is perfectly correct. There is much skill in the attitude and motion: the cautious step and wary eye betoken in a happy manner the watchful hunter and the guarded warrior. XCI. SCENE ON THE BANKS of a River. lect. John Constable. There is quite a magical effect in this landscape, which reaches a degree of the deceptive in art which we rarely see displayed, CLXII. THE COTTAGE OF IDLENESS. without any of those sacrifices we find so C. Cranmer. often made to form, colour, or composition. Without any of the bravura of art, the penIt is in short a perfect panorama, but a cil of this artist will, we think, be estimated panorama not indebted to the usual means by the judicious, as coming favourably be- called in to produce panoramic effect. The The artist must have been sadly at a loss tween the styles of Gainsborough and character of the pencilling is no less extrafor a subject, when he selected this incident, Wheatley. His subjects are mostly of rus-ordinary; and the making out of the foliage which is neither humorous nor satirical. tic life; and the above, with its companion denotes great labour to attain the rude in An attempt to convey the idea of sound is (No. CLXVII. The Cottage of Industry), nature, which is yet far removed from negnot an easy task, and the discord of sharp- conveys a good moral lesson, in an agreeening the teeth of a saw, would better suitable manner. The lassitude and slatternly the drolls of Hemskerck, or the merriment appearance of the idle girl, whose falling of Ostade, than the sober pallet of Mr. Bigg. asleep, not merely over her work, but over We might from them have had the carica- the preparation for her meal, is a strong inture expression between pain and grin, cident and well imagined. The colouring is which is wanting here. Mr. B. has endea- chaste but mellow, and the interest kept up voured to produce fun by making the Car- by the back ground and minor parts of the penter's lad, who seems a chip of the old pictures.-No. CLXXVIII. INTERESTING block, drag the girl towards the object of STORY BOOK; and, CCLXXVII. EVENING her misery, against which she tries to stop Gossips, are well told stories by the same her ears. The expression of the old man hand; and the latter is a good landscape is the most commendable part of the pic- composition, in which the figures are suborture, in the execution of which there is a dinate. This is the picture which reminds want of keeping: the figures in the distance us most of Gainsborough; it was exhiare only small, not remote. CCXIII.-PLYMOUTH DOCK AND MOUNT- George Samuel. bited before. XIV. YOUNG CONNOISSEURS. CXXIX. COTTAGE în a CORNFIELD. VI. XL. XLIII. EXXIII. CLXXXIII.CCXXXVI. CLXXV. MILKING. — CXCI. GROUP OF In the pictures of this artist there is some talent, and also some tinsel. The exuberances into which he falls we would wish to warn him against, for the sake of the forsame, painted with truth and nature.- mer. Glitteris a fascinating seducer in art, LXXVII. A COTTAGE GIRL READING, the and we too often behold artists substituting same. A pleasing piece of cottage scenery, it for higher qualities. Indeed the mechan with the accessaries well managed. The ism of art is now more to be guarded against attitude and fixed attention of the young than at any former period; since every one rustic are well imagined and executed. can attain so tolerable a proficiency in it as CCXCVII. MOSES FOUND BY PHARAOH's to be able to produce moderately clever DAUGHTER, &c. also by the same, and ex-pictures, and yet as destitute of mind as if hibited last year. There is a fair historical character about this picture, and a depth of tone suitable to the subject. The incident of the child recognizing his mother is affecting; the lower part of the drama is Evidently portraits, and forming an agreeable composition, with a good effect of reflectLocal scenery, though often very in-ed light.-XXVII. A COUNTRY BOY, by the teresting, is not always favourable to the pencil, and Windsor Castle has for the most part been made a distant object in the surrounding landscape. In the present instance, Mr. Samuel has brought it into more particular notice, and in doing so, has had to encounter the difficulties of parallel lines, and forms of an unpicturesque kind, which scarcely any faithfulness of representation, unless aided by some extraordinary effect of light and shade, could overcome. What the artist could command, he has managed with uncommon mind were not necessary to constitute a painter. With regard to these performances, there is a hardness of outline and a want of keeping quite at war with repose. Still there is much merit in parts, though not the merit, at which the artist seems to aim-of Paul Potter. LV. VIEW NEAR TAPLOW, BUCKS. We wish this view had a better situation, that we might better appreciate its merits. As it is, we think it an exceeding clever little picture; it has a firm and vigorous pencil, a mellow tone of colour, and a bold effect. CCXCVI. A VIEW IN NORTH WALES. We mentioned this work in our introductory notice of the Gallery, as one of high desert. The tone of colour is full and warm, with none of the trick or gaud of art about it. The forms are well chosen, and as a whole it is an exceedingly pleasing view, to which the tribute of reminding us of Wilson may with justice be paid. A PORTRAIT. BY MRS. HEN. ROLLS. There is a calmness on that brow, Tho' traced by lines of early care; No anxious thought disturbs it now, For all seems fixt and settled there. There is a languor in that eye, The struggle of the soul seems past; No gathering tear is rising nigh, There all seems still and sunk at last. No swelling sigh that bosom heaves, It rises slowly like the wave Which sadly tranquil ocean heaves, To wash the shipwreck'd seaman's grave. Yet scorn him not, ye selfish train! That murmur o'er each little woe; Who ne'er a lonely pang sustain, Or bid one tear unnoticed flow! The inborn dignity of mind, Has glow'd with tenderness refin'd. Conceals a wound that must remain; Or binds the ever bleeding vein. SKETCHES OF SOCIETY. MR. EDITOR, In your "Sketches of Society" are some amusing accounts of foreign manners; but you give us none of English. Allow me to present you one, from a letter written to me last year, by a young friend in Paris. The subjects of the painting exhibit a specimen of a genus of British, or rather "London," tourists, who inundated Paris for a couple of summers after the second restoration. Those of your readers who have been in France at that period, will allow that these travellers have not been caricatured. --- I remember being much amused one Sunday at the Royal Chapel, in seeing a whole family, parents, sons and daughters, making their way up the stairs powerfully enough, and exclaiming at every step they gained, from which they dismounted some one else, Mais, Monsieur, or Madame, je suis Anglois, je suis Anglaise; and in their hurry, the men were often Anglaise, and the women vice versa. At last, with a little damage to their dresses, they did reach the landing-place, and after shaking and arranging themselves to the best advantage, perfectly certain the King would remark them, forward they went. As they saw seats, they determined to chuse, and were about selecting as near to the King as possible; when one of the officers on service asked to see their tickets: "Tickets! they had given them below;" but others, for the seats. They had none, and each joined in the chorus, Mais, Monsieur, je suis, &c. &c. The officer was en desespoir; but the seats were taken. "Why, it was like a playhouse," the old waddling Lady said, much liker than to a Christian church."- Lord, Mar,' said one of the daughters, it a'nt a church.'"Why what is it then, pray?" A chapel to be sure, all the French churches are chapels.' Well, whatever it is, I'm sure I shouldn't be overfond of coming to it if I'm to have no place to set down; that's what you call French purliteness, is it?" Hush,' said the Husband, my dear, I'll see what I can do. There's a civil looking hofficer as just let them two ladies set down, and may be he'll give us one or two seats for you and Kate, the rest can do well enough without.' "Lord, I wish Mar wouldn't make such a work, I'm sure we can stand very well," Aye, and see better,' said the second girl, "And be better seen," whispered the third. All this time Miss M. and I had been listening to, and watching the evolutions of this droll family, and as they marched towards the civil looking hofficer, so did we; but where did they go straight to the Royal Loge, which was yet empty. It was across this the two ladies had passed to the seats on the other side. One of the sisters was shoved forward by the rest, to speak; I did not hear her, but the answer was With pleasure, give me your tickets;' the old story, they had none;-then the thing was im'But ask possible, and the officer bowed. him, ask him mayn't we cross to the other side, even tho' we don't set, I see a many standing there.' The officer hesitated' but at last told them to pass, Vite, vite,' Accordingly for the King was coming. they all passed in, and there they stopped; at this moment the drum was heard: in vain did the officers exclaim, Vite, le Roi, je vous priez, &c. &c. It was extremely diticult to get them out. They protested they had been informed, that, as English, they had liberty to stand any where they pleased -no doubt the King would have no objection to see his old friends, &c. &c. and it was not till a moment before the King entered, that the last of his old friends was cleared out, loudly muttering something about ingratitude. We lost this pleasant party until the service was over, when we watched for them to come round. The father was all eyes, the boys seemed in amaze, the girls talked of the Duchess,' and smiled at the officers; but the mother! the unfortunate mother, fat and short, she had seen nothing, and felt every thing. Her bonnet was squeezed into a triangle, in her attempts to insert it into a peeping place, her wig had fallen over one eye-brow, and the dew-drops seemed frying on her flaming face as she came along, a dead weight on her husband's arm. Zooks, if ever they catches me here again!" were the first words she uttered, "but they deserves the like who leaves their own clergy to come and see those heathenish mountebank priests dancing and groaning, and making of wry faces here." Lord, Mar, every one will hear you,'—" Its only a pity they're too ignorant to understand me, if they do; but even if they did, I will say, if ever they catches me again!"-and seeing a vacant bench, she made suddenly towards it, with more life than I thought her sufferings had left her. It was a pity to lose her yet, so Miss M. told one of the daughters, that the chapel was about to be closed; but if they would follow us up the stairs, we were going to the Salle des Marechaux, and the lady could sit down there undisturbed. Immediately the poor mother was carried off between two of the daughters, and unwillingly pushed up the great stairs after us, protesting all the time that she had seen enough for one day. The crowd were kept waiting till the cortege within had passed, when we entered. The national guard were in the court below, and I advised the young women to try and get into the balcony to see the review, while the old lady could sit down and rest in the mean time, as we intended doing. This was arranged accordingly, to the joy of all parties, and we took care to seat ourselves near the Mur. In a few minutes the old man and his sons came over, and said the boys and he were told they might go down into the court and see the review, as they couldn't get even so much as a glimpse from the window, the French women kept tossing their chimney tops about so, and he desired his wife to sit still till they returned, and to keep an eye on her young folks. I'm sure, ladies,' he added, on parting, 'we's a right to be thankful to you for your obligingness.'-"Yes, that we has," said the old woman, a little recovered from her state of tribulation, Yes, that we has, and I in particular, for I was like to drop in that heathenish place, where, so sure as I never was before, I'll never be again." Then you have not been long in France?"Too long, Miss, to my mind, tho' it isn't above a week." O but you'll find Paris very amusing, when you've seen it all.' "Seen it all! why I think I may boldly say and I've done that already, Miss, for never an hour's rest have I had, except at night, since I put foot in it first, and a weary hour it was to me, I'm sure, for I likes comfort and quiet at home better nor sights abroad." But then to gratify your young people-' "Yes, Miss, that's the whole secret: my daughters saw all their acquaintance going abroad, forsooth, and so they over-persuaded their foolish parents to take them a trip too; and why, as we had never travelled, nor been nowhere ourselves, except now and then of a summer to Margate, or the Hisle of White, why we thought we'd pleasure ourselves and the children at one slap; for after all, it was aggravating enough to hear every one talking of France and Vaterloo, and such things, and being so proud like of having 66 'Is been to parts beyond sea, where others more of it to him. What crowds of folks 66 Well, you've gained nothing and lost something, for these young ladies and I have been very conversible and agreeable like, and I've been telling 'em of Vaterloo, for only think as they've never seed it." Cary seemed to wish her mother there at the moment; but she behaved very well, and turned it off. Well, and how do you like the Duchess? isn't she a pretty inodest-looking person, and not a great soldierly woman, as we had heard?" She is very interesting,' answered Cary, but Lord bless me, what a monsus portly gentleman the King is. They say as how grief is dry'- -" and hungry too, say I, for grief enough he's had, they say, for all his size." Have you been to the Louvre yet?' said Miss M. addressing her; but before she could reply, Mar, delighted at having an opportunity of talking, seized it hastily. Yes that we has, and a beautiful sight it is, I must say, though it be French-such fine painting and gilding! it must be very amusing as to them that knows all the stories; we has gotten the book on 'em, but its all Greek to me, and the girls has no time to tell me it in English, tho' I should like it dearly, for I'm vastly fond of stories and pictors; and we've been to the monumens, where I was almost turned into one myself, it was so stony cold. But to please me, the prettiest sight they has here is the beasts in the botany garden,—all running wild, so natural like. And the bear, what a funny fellow he is, and stood up so and begged"-At this moment the crowd, collected at the windows, began to give way, and the two other daughters ap proached, their eyes sparkling, and their cheeks flushed with heat and pleasure. "Ah, Cary, what a loss you've had-we've seen every thing, and heard all the people's names, and "And I think,' interrupted Cary, illtemperedly, you might have given me a place for a minute itself." And so we would, but you'd never have got it. I declare I was never so squeezed in my life. The French women wanted to tire us out, but we stood our ground." The room was clearing, so we were obliged to lose the meeting of the family and after many thanks, and hopes of again meeting us, in which latter, as you may guess, we did not join, we left them quite au fait in the ways of the palace for the time to come. Now do not imagine this is too good to be true-such scenes pass here daily. S. Z. L. : BIOGRAPHY. ROSSINI. As this composer has excited considerable notice in this country by the great success of the first of his operas, brought out at the King's Theatre, we have extracted from the volume entitled Rome, Florence, and Naples," the only anecdotes relating to him with which we are acquainted. We have read some criticisms which go to impeach the originality of Il Barbiere di Seviglia; but really we cannot think that the resemblances of particular passages therein traced to other musicians, are at all sufficient to sustain the charge of plagiarism. He is undoubtedly a great master, and ought to be cheered on his path as such, not discouraged by hypercritical remarks. At Terracina, says Count Stendhal, at the magnificent Inn built by Pius VI. a proposal was made me to sup with some travellers just arrived from Naples. Among seven or eight persons, my attention was more particularly attracted by a very handsome man, fair, and rather bald, appearing about thirty or two and thirty. I asked him news of Naples, and particularly of the music; his answers displayed clear and brilliant ideas. I inquired, whether there were any hopes of hearing at Naples, the Othello of Rossini, he answered by a smile. I said that according to my ideas, Rossini was the great hope of the present Italian school; that he appeared to me the only man born with true genius, and that his success was not so much owing to the ' richness of his accompaniments, as to the beauty of the airs. I perceived something like embarrassment about my man, and saw a smile upon the countenances of his fellow-travellers; it was Rossini himself; -fortunately, and the chances were very much against me, I had not touched upon the idleness of this great genius. at Rome, and that the taste of Rome again | music understood; he conducts these parts This poor man of genius interests me much. Not that he does not appear gay and happy; but what pity it is that this unfortunate country is not blessed with a sovereign who has taste enough to give him a pension of two thousand crowns, that he may not be under the necessity of writing, except at the moment of inspiration. Who can, under his present circumstances, make it a reproach to him that he composes an opera in a fortnight! He is obliged sometimes to write upon a wretched table at an inn, in the midst of all the noise of the kitchen, with muddy ink, brought to him in I have seen in Italy, he appears to me to an old pomatum-pot. Of all the men whom have the largest share of general talent: of this he certainly is not conscious himself, for the race of pedants are still in full feather here. I mentioned my enthusiastic admiration of the Italian in Algiers, and asked whether he himself preferred that or Tancredi ?-He answered, that he preferred Il Matrimonio Secreto to either; yet this opera is almost as much forgotten in Italy as the tragedies of Marmontel are at Paris. Why might he not be allowed to levy a tax upon the companies who play his thirty Operas?—I suggested this to him, but he demonstrated to me, that in the present disordered state of the country, it was im possible even to propose such a thing. We remained together drinking tea till past midnight this was the most agreeable evening I passed in Italy. Rossini has all the vivacity of a happy man; it was not without a feeling of melancholy that I separated myself from him. In Canova and he, thanks to the ruling powers, is centered all the genius now possessed by this land of genius. At another place our author says, Pieces are always brought out at La Scala for the first time on a Saturday, Friday being a day of rest. There is no performance on the anniversaries of the birth and death of the last Sovereign of Austria; at this the Milanese are very indignant. The performances of this evening lasted five hours; they were all new. Rossini, in the Maid and Magpie has aimed at the fracas of the German music. With an imagination no less bold and splendid, and the inspirations of a genius truly original, whatever style he adopts he is sure to please, provided he will bestow a litle attention upon his work. The piece was very much applauded; the movements of his airs are noble; the prevailing idea is He said that Naples required a very admirably supported in all morsels of endifferent style of music from what pleased | semble, a thing highly essential to making This Opera has, at the same time, a defect which is common to all great masters; the personages of the piece are always upon the stage. Madame Belloc, for instance, never quits it. The terrible German accompaniments cannot drown the voice of this singer, still less that of Galli. As soon as the admirable accents of this great performer are heard, every thing else is crushed, instruments no less than singers. Galli's character is that of an unfortunate great actor who drew forth so many tears father, and we immediately recognize the in the Opera of Agnese, where he plays a character something like king Lear, and whose performance of the Hungarian Prince in the Brazen Head produced such an effect. The young Gallianis was extremely applauded; her fine voice, a contr'altro, has but five or six notes, but they are of surprising strength and clearness; her countenance is as fine as her singing. A signor Ambrosi made his début and pleased much, though only an amateur. On the whole, however, we had too much of a good thing, and I came home half dead with fatigue. Had I not been so, I should have laughed immoderately when the composer and prin cipal actor, being called for after the piece, according to our French custom, Galli and Rossini appearing, embraced each other tenderly upon the stage. THE DRAMA. DRURY LANE.-On Saturday last Mr. Harry Johnston took his benefit, and three pieces of the melo-dramatic class were performed. In these he exhibited great talent, for he is undoubtedly the foremost performer in this line whom we have. His Donald in the Falls of Clyde, and his Three Fingered Jack, are natural and powerful representations. It is a question whether the study of such characters does or does not impair the capacity for efforts which may be called higher, because they belong to a higher order of the drama. We are afraid they do. We remember this Actor a better tragedian than he appears to us to be now; and we remember Elliston, one of the most able performers we ever saw, and possessing qualities to raise him to the top of his profession, spoiled, in a great degree, by similar pursuits. Perhaps an useful lesson may be drawn from what we have stated. It may occur to those among the aspirants of the theatre, who take the nished. THEATRE DE L'OPERA COMIQUE. as Shylock is by the relation of Tubal. A person of the name of Ouin, who had cut off his mustachios, and left Paris, the day after the attempt against the life of our hero, Wellington, has been traced to Lyons, apprehended, and brought back. At home, Parliament adjourned on Thursday, till the second of April. trouble to think, that the exaggeration of the murderers are apprehended and pu- | from grief to joy, and joy to grief, passion is so far inferior to natural imitation as to be destructive of interest instead of affecting the ruin of effect, instead of effective. It is too true that the practice of the stage almost invariably leads to a mannerism which detracts as much from This girdle does not belong to the godthe merit of an actor, as experience adds to dess of Beauty, it is borrowed from the ceit-generally more. And when to this uni-lebrated Jean-Baptiste Rousseau, of whom versal principle is superadded, the over- it was said, that he always composed Odes wrought vices of dumb-show, it is impossi- whenever he fancied he was writing a new ble that the heart of an audience can be Comedy. As it frequently happens that an touched, however their eyes may be daz-author persists in cultivating that class of zled and their ears split. Pathos and pan- literature in which he is least successful, tomime are the antipodes of the stage. the dramas of J. B. Rousseau are by far the most considerable portion of his productions. The story of one of his Comedies has been adapted to the stage at the Opera-elected Honorary Members of the Academy FINE ARTS. The following have been Comique in the following way: of Arts at New York, viz. Mr. West, Mr. Wilkie, Mr. Shee, Mr. Nollekens, Sir. T. Lawrence, Mr. A. Robertson, and Mr. FOREIGN DRAMA. ACADEMIE ROYALE DE MUSIQUE. Proserpine, ballet-pantomime in three acts. A variety of theatrical experiments have already proved that the subject of Proserpine is not susceptible of that high degree of interest which belongs to many other mythological fictions. The passion of the youthful goddess for the monarch of the infernal region's must always appear in some degree unnatural. Claudien, who was the first to relate this fable poetically, has judiciously represented the daughter of Ceres as being seduced by ambition, and not by love. Whilst we bestow the highest praise on the music of M. Schneit zoeffer, we must lament the deficiency of well-known and appropriate airs. Popular airs are always best suited to a Ballet; it is not sufficient that the music should be calculated for dancing, it should at the same time serve to explain the situation. Two young gentlemen of Seville, Leonce Francisco, the valet of Leonce, fortunately assists the lovers. He introduces himself to the two imbecile guardians as a celebrated astrologer, and undertakes to tell their fortunes, that is to say, to inform them whether they are beloved. For this purpose it is requisite that they should submit to a little operation of his art; he encloses them both within a pretended magical gir dle, and immediately fastens the padlock attached to it. When caught in this singuLe Coffre de Fer, ou la Grotte des Apen-lar trap, the two guardians find it impossible to move, and Hermosa and Maria sieze that opportunity for escaping with their lovers. It will be readily supposed, that in order to obtain their liberation, the two prisoners are under the necessity of capitufating with love, and granting their consent to the double marriage. nines. CIRQUE OLYMPIQUE. The mysterious murder of M. Fualdes at Rhodes, which recently excited so much interest, has evidently furnished the plot of this new melo-drama. It is as follows: DIGEST OF POLITICS AND Allston. VARIETIES. A simple method of keeping chimnies clean, without climbing boys:-Make an opening of ten or twelve inches square, at the back of every hearth, with a metal door, like those of ovens, to admit a rope with a holly-bush fixed in the middle of it, and a leaden ball at one end, to make the rope descend through crooked flues: the bush should be compressed on putting it into the opening. A singular occurrence lately took place at Vienna. A soldier who had been shot was removed to the amphitheatre of anatomy in that city; but on the first touch of the scalpel the supposed dead body made a movement, which the surgeon regarded as a sign of life. In fact, the unfortunate man still breathed, and though one ball had entered the head, and another the abdomen, there is still reason to think that his life may be saved. A person deaf and dumb, one of the pupils of the Abbe Sicard, has been performing Theodore in the play called L'Abbé de Epée (which Mrs. C. Kemble played so well in our Deaf and Dumb,') and after a successful attempt at Marseilles is about to appear in the same character at Aix. His name is Balestrier, and it is evident that his line of parts must be very limited, unless melo-drame opens the way to more general business. A new fashionable Journal has been com menced at Naples under the title of The Iris of the Two Sicilies. It is adorned with lithographic engravings. A magistrate whilst journeying among the Appennines is waylaid by banditti, and conveyed to a frightful cavern, where he is murdered. Chance has ordained that a woman, the mother of a beautiful infant, should be concealed within the cavern, and she is thus compelled to be a witness of the crime. She is quickly discovered, her death THERE is neither politics nor news alone can ensure the safety of the crimi- to occupy half a column of our paper. nals. Her life is however spared, on condi- In France, the new project of recruiting tion that she shall inscribe her name on the has passed into a law, and the golist of banditti who are leagued together for vernment is now authorized to have the purpose of committing crimes, of which the murder of the magistrate is but the 240,000 men in arms to slaughter as prelude. Officers of justice are at length many men of other nations, should any dispatched in search of the murderers: it cause of dispute arise sufficient in the is proved by a variety of circumstances, that eyes of politicians to authorize this THE MAMMOTH.-A newspaper printed the unfortunate woman was a witness of wholesale human butchery. On the at St. Louis, in the Missouri territory, says, the crime. She is examined. Her lips are balance, in the scale of good, the for- that living Mammoths have lately been seen sealed by terror. The lives of her husband mal abolition of the slave trade, in pur-statement should be true, which does not Mountains. If this and her child are at stake, if she should utter a syllable. She becomes distract-suance of the late treaties, has been ef- seem very probable, this remarkable anied. --- But after repeated struggles, truth fected. When we contemplate these mal, of which only the skeleton is found in is at length triumphant-she speaks, and things, we could be moved as variously the old world, would still exist in the new. for L'Opera Italien, at Paris. She has found Madame Catalani has resigned her patent it less lucrative to be a manager there than a performer any where, and especially in London. near the |