Here the theme assumed a measure somewhat more stately and serene, and thus proceeded ere it relapsed into the familiar Honour to him who in that city wide Through which thou, Thames, dost roll thy changeful tide, And in that temple there to me upraised, Erst waked the strain, while Wonder mutely gazed! Sweet were the tones that trembled from his bow, (ECHO) Spagnoletti ! The succeeding notes, less "audible and full of vent," melted away in gradual indistinctness, and the singular effusion ceased; while Echo, as if overcome by her exertions, fainted away, yet with a smile lingering about her pallid lips, and was caught in the arms of a small dingylooking sprite, "got up" in bluish-grey mixture, whom I surmised to be Distance, and who proceeded to the vanishing point with her immediately. Thames opened his capacious mouth into a grin, ducked his head with reverential awkwardness towards Apollo, and then soused, eels over heels, into the water, on the way to his bed. Glorious Apollo, in an attitude of easy grace, and holding in extension the instrument which had been the eloquent minister to his thoughts, was received again into the cloud, which gradually receded from my view. Just at that seasonable instant, the rattle of a large cinder, which fell within the fender, brought me back with opened eyes to the narrow scene of my own private apartment, and terminated a dream as circumstantial, I will venture to affirm, as the experience of any living slumberer can furnish. "Well, Mr. Amateur, it was but a dream!" Yes! my too literal friend and reader-but is there nothing to be gained of real purpose from a dream? Is it all visionary that comes to us through a vision ? I would suggest the contrary. If to consider as a compliment to England the language and the locale through which this my dream presented itself, were to consider too curiously, at least there is one general hint of good honest value to be derived from it; I mean as regards the great importance of expression, the highest of all musical attributes. Let my worthy countrymen look to it. Postponing lesser things to greater-holding "execution" in strict subservience to meaning-let them ever study, in their cultivation of that subtle and marvellous exponent of mind and fancy, the violin, to do that which is at once most difficult and most delightful-to "make it speak!” G. D. MR. CABOOZE AND JAMES BEVAN. A leetle ANECDOTE" OF TWO ENGLISHMEN IN NASSAU. A MORE terrible drinker than Mr. Cabooze Ne'er walk'd out at elbows, nor died in his shoes, He began in a morning, at half after ten, To ring for his big drop of brandy, and then To gasp at a small cup of coffee at most, Of a thin piece of toast,- And top that with brandy-a strong paulo-post! He rang for James Bevan, (For he kept a man-servant, and none of the dames,) My eyes see all objects in specks, James, and curves, Now James, who seem'd suffering his master's complaint, Search'd out the decanter, And down in a very dim room-nothing loath, Though with something of nausea, and something of sloth- And a pull from the puncheon Just to keep down the cream-be-crown'd goblet of Guinness. Or a pinch of time more, By way of refresher, stomachic, or so, At night, lunch the second, A reason is reckon'd * For brandy (just haunted by water) in heaps, From evening till morn, From the morn to the noon- To what's call'd "dewy eve:" You'd say this in England could ne'er be the tune; Bathe the fair Taunus hills That place where (see Head) the hot springs, like pea-soup, Where the German in silence the nastiness swills, Is blown every morn, And the cows all troop forth to the Schwalbach wood That place where the victims of vapours and gout One sad severe day, Nearly cold as our May, After soaking, and soaking, and soaking the clay, Up the street, not far off, Poor Mr. Cabooze-quite be-bottled, bamboozled, And was waiting at table from then till eleven, On an old German trunk, On a fat, foggy head; And he beckon'd, and ask'd him intensely to "come!" Now no one could say that Cabooze was the man So he sat in a maze, With his feet on the baize, And his hand on the glass, and his head in a haze`; And something he said, 'twixt the lip and the cup, And sweet'ning and swilling, The friend at the hof mutely dropp'd off his perch; The fall'n spirit repose, With his nose very close to the pillar and claw. And he startled the snooze From the goose-gogs of Bevan, and broke from the booze ; Deunhen, Pastor, and Master; Not a sound through the pitch-dark street did break, The Brunnens were bubbling Bubbling, and troubling— When Cabooze contrived, with a fumbling fin, And in the two blunder'd :-the air from the door And the jet of the night, James and Cabooze stagger'd up to their floor! Now it here should be told-and truth will be told- As it ever has been since the times of old Truth will not be check'd by chains or strings Ah! " Facts," says George Robins, " are stubborn things;"It here should be told, that Cabooze's ways Of damping his nights, and of wetting his days, Made it a matter of prudence that James |