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The Rivals, a new novel, by the author of The Collegians, will appear this month.

The next Number of the Family Library will be the second volume of the Lives of British Painters; after that, the concluding volume of Milman's History of the Jews; and then the first volume of the Life of George the Third.

We understand that Mr William Anderson of Edinburgh, (at present connected with the Glasgow Courier,) has a volume of Poems in the press, which will appear shortly after Christmas, under the title of Poetical Aspirations.

LOUIS XVIII.-The Private Memoirs of the Court of this monarch, announced for immediate publication, are said to be written by a Lady who enjoyed his particular confidence. They relate, it appears, to that eventful period which immediately preceded and followed the Restoration of the Bourbons to the throne of France, after an exile of more than twenty years, and they disclose the secret intrigues during that time of the most intriguing capital in Europe. Almost every person of note in France, since the downfall of Napoleon, is, we understand, pourtrayed in the Work.

BOTANY.-Dr Greville's excellent treatise on the Cryptogamic class, Algae, is in progress, and will in all probability be published in the course of January.

WORKS IN THE PRESS.-The following works are in the press, and will shortly appear :-Hours of Devotion, for the Promotion of true Christianity and Family Worship: translated from the original German.-Patroni Ecclesiarum; or a List (with Indexes), Alphabetically arranged, of all the Patrons of Dignities, Rectories, &c. of the Church of England and Ireland.-The Etymological Spelling-Book, by Henry Butler, author of Gradations in Reading and Spelling.Inductive Grammar, by an Experienced Teacher.-A View of the Scripture Revelations concerning a Future State, laid before his Parishioners, by a Country Pastor.-Evening Amusements, or the Beauties of the Heavens Displayed, for the Year 1830.-The Olive Branch, a Religious Annual for 1830, in Prose and Verse; with a portrait of the Rev. R. Gordon.-No. IV. of the Domestic Gardener's Manual, and English Botanist's Companion.-A new edition of Smart's Horace, the English translation corrected and improved.-A Treatise on Atmospheric Electricity, by John Murray, F.S.H.-Reflections on Insanity and its rapid progress amongst all Classes in Britain, considered in a Legal and Medical Point of View, by Charles Dunne, Esq. surgeon.-A Dissertation on Anatomy, Physiology, and Pathology, by H. W. Dewhurst, Esq. surgeon, &c.-By the same author, a Series of Engravings of the Human Bones and Muscles, for the use of Artists and Students; an Essay on the minute Anatomy and Physiology of the Organs of Vision in Man and Animals; and a Series of Coloured Engravings of the Horse's Foot.

PRICE OF FOREIGN BOOKS.-The abuses of bookselling importers are well known to literary men, and the heavy percentage which they are too apt to claim. It is a curious fact, that an excellent series of Japanese plants, now in the course of publication at Brussels, and sold by the London publishers at the price of 18s. per Number, has been furnished to two gentlemen in this city, by Mr Clarke, for 12s. We wish that some Westminster Reviewer, or any person who has access to correct information, would take up this matter.

TAM O'SHANTER AT LAW.-Mr Thom engaged to furnish copies of his Tam O'Shanter and Souter Johnie, together with figures of the Landlord and Landlady, to the Earl of Cassilis. A Mr Dick subsequently bespoke copies of the whole four. Thom completed the statues ordered by the Earl, and then commenced another Landlady, which, pleasing him better than the first, he shipped it along with the other three for the noble Lord. Mr Dick lays claim to the lady. The matter has come before the Second Division of the Court of Session -Mr Jeffrey for the artist and the Earl, Mr Cockburn for the pursuer. The case was to have been argued on Wednesday, but was deferred, in hopes that the parties might be induced to come to a compromise.

FINE ARTS.-The Directors of the Institution have allotted two thousand pounds for the purchase of old paintings. What do the members intend to make of them when they have got them? Lock them up with the models of the Duke of York's statue ? Or leave them lying about the Exhibition Room, like Lord Elgin's casts, for the doorkeeper to deposit his coat and hat, or the housemaid her mop upon?-We understand that the Institution is to have no Exhibition this year, notwithstanding the report to the contrary.-We regret to hear that two of our most talented artists, Messrs Macdonald and W. Simpson, have it in contemplation to transfer their residence to London.

THE SIX-FEET CLUB.-The Annual Dinner of this Club took place on Saturday last in the Waterloo Hotel,-Sir Walter Scott in the Chair-Henry G. Bell, Esq., Croupier. Upwards of eighty gentlemen were present, and the evening was spent in the most enthusiastic and pleasant manner, Professor Wilson contributing not a little to the general stock of enjoyment. We are glad to observe that our tall friends seem to have a decided taste for mental as well as for corporeal feats of strength.


are glad to perceive, by an advertisement in last Saturday's Journal, that this society seems now to be fairly established. It meets every Wednesday evening for the discussion of a literary question; and, once a-month, a night is set apart for hearing the productions of the members, whether in prose or verse. We certainly think that me chanics and others may benefit by this society, especially if a few persons of experience and judgment take the lead in its proceedings.

THE SCOTTISH ACADEMY.-Rather a long letter has appeared in the Weekly Journal, in answer to the short article upon this subject which we published last Saturday. We have no inclination to con tinue the controversy at present. Unlike the writer in the Weekly Journal, we abjure the idea of becoming partisans either on one side or other. We stated what we knew to be the simple facts of the case, solely with a desire to do justice; and now, for the sake of all concerned, we advise that the late disputes should be buried in oblivion as soon as possible.

Theatrical Gossip.-Charles Kemble has written a melo-drama, which, by all accounts, appears to be rather a heavy concern. It is called "The Royal Fugitive, or the Rights of Hospitality." If we are not mistaken, this piece was acted here some two years ago, and damned; but we believe we may say, without any undue national vanity, that a play may be damned here, and yet succeed very well in London.-Charles Kemble has quarrelled with Kean, who gene rously offered to play six nights for the benefit of Covent Garden, but very naturally requested permission to choose his own nights. He chose the Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays; but these being the evenings on which Miss Kemble plays Juliet, they were refused to him. Kean, therefore, accepted of an engagement at Drury Lane. The worst of the matter is, that the London critics abuse Kean, and see nothing selfish or conceited in the conduct of Charles Kemble. We beg to hint to Mr Kemble that he had better take care; we know him to have given serious offence this season in more quarters than one. The elephant which Messrs Matthews and Yates have engaged for the Adelphi has arrived in London from Paris, after rather a rough passage across the channel, during which she was much trou bled with sea-sickness. An insurance on her was effected at Lloyd's for L.4000, and her freight amounted to L.45. Her age is about twenty, and her manners are said to be extremely docile. She is expected to prove a star of the first magnitude. "Quam parva sapien tia gullitur mundus."-Young Kean is playing with an English em pany at the Hague.-French plays are to commence at the English Opera House in January.-A certain Signor Venafra has taken the Caledonian Theatre for a few nights, and is to produce a series of ballets. We believe he and his company have been in Glasgow.-ll Mr Murray had some new scenes painted lately, why does he not produce them?-The Theatrical Fund Committee have fixed the 29th of January for their public dinner. The affairs of the fund are pros. pering.

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SEVERAL new works have been received too late to be noticed this week.

The communication from Derwent Conway is in types.-We have received the letter of our friend "W. D." of Guisborough, and shal attend to it. The communication from "F." shall be inserted in our next SLIPPERS.-The article by M. G. F." of Glasgow will not suit us. We are amused with what is mentioned to us by "Anti-Pla giarist," but cannot stoop to take any notice of it.-The communiestion from an Aberdeen correspondent, concerning the late Mr Charles Hacket of Inveramsay, will be of service to us." Reminiscences" by "M." shall have a place, if we can find room.

The verses "To a Burr Thistle," the lines entitled "The Cantents of my own Pocket," and the "Imitation of a Morisco Ballad," have found favour in our eyes, and will probably appear cre long. — All the following poems, the very reading of which cost us no sight labour, must, for the present, lie over:-" The Rose of the Vale," "Forget-Me-Not, by Delta,"-" Song, to the tune of Taste life's glad moments,"-" To Mary,""-" The Dear One,"-" Moonlight," "The Plighted Bride," "The Wager-Love and Time,-and "The Student, a Parody."

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Apollo's Gift; or, the Musical Souvenir for 1830. Edit-
ed by Muzio Clementi and J. B. Cramer.
S. Chappell, Clementi & Co. &c.


don. Goulding and D'Almaine. Edinburgh. R. Purdie. 4to.


light richer than that of the setting sun. To the highest and the lowest it lends an additional grace ;-it paints the lily, and it gilds refined gold. The peasant girl at her cottage-door singing her mountain-melodies, far up among the Alpine heights, smooths down the rugged fea

The Musical Bijou; an Album of Music, Poetry, and tures of the scene, and pours out a flood of human symThe noble Prosé, for 1830. Edited by F. H. Burney. pathies upon the rocks and snows of ages. Lonmaiden, seated upon her castle walls, whose ancestral towers look far over dale and down, never appears more worthy of her rank and lofty lineage, than when to the viewless air or to the stars of night, she gives forth the full soul of harmony. The music and the singer reflect a mutual charm upon each other; and when did even Shakspeare paint a finer picture, or pay a nobler compliment, than when he compared the tones of a loved voice


The Musical Gem; a Souvenir for 1830.
W. Ball and N. C. Bochsa.
Lavenu. 4to.

Edited by
Mori and

Or all earthly enjoyments, music is the purest. There are some which are more intellectual, and others which are more intensely sensual; but music stands alone in the power which it exercises over human nature, and by appealing to that delicate and mysterious part of our constitution which no anatomist has ever described-no metaphysician ever explained-binds in its silken chains all ranks, and tribes, and generations. The question, why a certain succession of quick or slow notes should thrill through the frame, and penetrate the soul, with so si multaneous and universal an effect, is one which it is impossible to answer; but the fact remains unalterable.

They who are bold enough to avow that they experience little delight from music, are objects more of pity than of blame. We have invariably observed that they are persons of a coarse, querulous, or vulgar temperament, -persons whose souls and hearts, if they have any, are imprisoned within a dungeon of gross flesh, and whose tastes are as uncultivated as their minds are unembellished. Look, on the contrary, at him or her whose finer nature is attuned to every sound of melody; there is a depth of feeling, of love, and of gentleness in their very voice, which wins upon you even before you see or know the speaker. All that is profound in affection, all that is soothing in grief, all that is elevating in hope, all that is delicious in joy,-all this, and much more, may be best communicated through the medium of music. The very memory of an air that has been heard long ago, or far away-in happier years, in early youth, or in a distant land, is capable of communicating a joy, equalled, perhaps, by no other. What brings so freshly back into the heart all that the heart has most loved, as music? A song a little simple song-poured into the dull ear of age, may carry even the most aged out of their infirmities, away from the feeblenesses and the privations of the present hour, back to the rosiest days of childhood, and they may dream that they once more bound along the breezy hill, or, in all the happiness of exuberant health, glide through the merry dance. A song a little simple song-breathed beneath the casement of the exile and the captive, may transport him in a moment to the land of his nativity, may bring cool and welcome tears from his eyes, wearied out with watching,

"Whilst recollections, sad but sweet,
Arise and disappear."

These are the trite and commonplace results of music.
There is nothing which it does not illuminate with a


"Ditties highly penn'd,

Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower,

With ravishing division, to her lute!"

It is a happy proof of the refinement of the age, that is unknown. The wish to avoid a charge of insensibility, now-a-days the undisguised and unblushing hater of music in this respect, has perhaps forced some to seek for refuge under the mask of affectation; and it is not unusual to detect the pretended amateur yawning in the very midst of his plaudits. Yet, as a judicious writer has well remarked, "the very existence of this affectation proves the preponderance of opinion, among the refined part of society, in favour of music; and as the ear becomes well trained, and a knowledge of the principles of the science is acquired, music will make the proper impression, and not convey the inerely indefinite physical pleasure which animals are said to derive from it, in common with mankind." Were it for no other reason than the influence which music exercises over female manners and dispositions, and consequently over those of men, its cultivation could not be too much encouraged. Conjured by the magic of soft tones, every natural asperity lays itself down and sleeps, whilst wreathed smiles, and pensive fancies, and hallowed associations, congregate together, like fairy elves in moonlight; and all that makes life lovely, and the domestic circle dear, and distant friends remembered, and past injuries forgiven, and future pleasures anticipated,—— all that elevates humanity, and removes that harassing discontent which at times creates in us a dissatisfaction with ourselves and all the world,-rises up like flowers, or rather like the incense of flowers, colouring and enriching the surrounding atmosphere.

But language toils and sweats in vain to compass a description of the smallest achievement of music. Language may move round music, and occasionally seem to approach it; but music is a sun which absorbs into itself, and gives forth again in one ray, the united words of ages. Blessed, for ever blessed, be those mighty masters of the art, who have taken it, as it were, out of the spheres, and brought

it down to this lower earth of ours! And blessed, for ever blessed, be those gentle, delicate, and noble natures, who have executed what the others designed, and whose sweet, immortal voices-soft and low, or full-toned and clear-have obtained a mastery over us, which the t

der, high among the clouds, the ocean, roaring from its caverns of gloom, or the wind, sweeping the desert and threading the mountains, never possessed! The key to man's most glorious hopes lies in music. That we are capable of enjoying poetry, is nothing wonderful; for whatever presents a distinct and tangible idea to the mind, creates a pleasurable sensation,-the necessary reward of an intellectual exertion; and wherever there are words, there is a reference to something defined and material. But music possesses in itself no ideas, yet is it the parent of a million. In its very nature it is aërial and impalpable, yet what food did we ever eat, what liquid did we ever drink, which so immediately affected our whole constitution? Can we for a moment suppose that any sensual and material appetite would find its food in music? yet there is a part of our nature which does find its food in music. What is the conclusion? It is, that music has to do with the soul, and with the soul alone.

There are, of course, various kinds of music; but the whole may be pretty safely classed under three great heads:-the music which speaks to the understanding,the music which speaks to the heart, and the music which speaks to both. Under the first class, we comprehend all those pieces of learned contrivance, which, while they display the ingenuity and labour of the composer, are more like mathematical problems, measured by line and rule, than a succession of sounds appealing to the passions. It was not the older composers alone who delighted in these exercises;- Kalkbrenner, Pixis, and Moscheles, are men of the same order, possessing a great deal of science, and deriving intellectual enjoyment from its possession-but with as little feeling (in the better signification of the word) as one of their own instruments. By the second kind of music-that which speaks to the heart alone-we mean such simple and inartificial melodies as, though pleasing, could not take a lasting hold of the memory, unless strongly attached to it by some particular associations, such as those of home and country. Almost all national melodies are in this predicament. It is not the music alone that endears them to us, for that is in many cases too simple and monotonous, and even rude; it is, that we have been accustomed to hear them in the midst of all that we love, and that they become, therefore, memorials of past happiness. There can be no doubt that it is to the third species of music--that which appeals both to the heart and the head-that we must look for its highest triumphs; and for those strains, which, when heard, even for the first time, and under any circumstances, and in any country, take the listener captive at once, and rouse into energy all the varying emotions of his nature. To men such as IIandel, Mozart, Hadyn, Beethoven, and Weber, belongs this mighty spell. Before their compositions, the music-mad passages of the Canons are no more thought of, and the pretty unadorned airs of the mere beginner fade away into insignificance;-music asserts her power, assumes her golden throne, extends her all-touching sceptre, and the nations bow down before her.

This is a long preamble to the more immediate subjectmatter of this article; but we could not resist the opportunity of expressing, however feebly, the intensity of our feelings regarding music,-feelings in which we are certain our readers will participate, for most of them, like us, must owe to music some of the happiest hours of their existence. Let us then chronicle the fact for them, as well as for ourselves. Whether it may have been upon the tented field, in the solemn cathedral, in the glittering and crowded theatre, alone, or with a multitude, from the full-choired orchestra, or the lips of one we loved, at the banquet-hour, beneath a thousand lights, or in the summer-glen, with the meridian moon smiling from a starless sky,-oh! wherever, or whenever, it may have been heard, never let it be forgotten that music has fallen upon our spirit like the light of Paradise upon her who stood without the gate.


The three works, whose titles we have copied above, are a new species of publication, taking their rise from, and suggested by, the success of the literary annuals. Their contents consist principally of original music, both vocal and instrumental, calculated for the meridian of the drawing-room, and well suited to afford both amusement and improvement to all who take delight in this fascinating art. In point of external appearance and embellishment, the whole three are a good deal like each other, and they are all elegant and attractive. We shall go over, a little more in detail, the contents of each.


Apollo's Gift, or the Musical Souvenir, is edited by two gentlemen of acknowledged musical reputation, Clementi and Cramer. It is embellished with five lithographic drawings, exceedingly spirited and distinct. Those entitled, "Arthgarvan," " Venice, by Moonlight," and "The Moorish Maiden," are three of the best speci mens of the art we have seen. The contents of the volume are classed under the two heads of Vocal and Instrumental Music. In the first department, the best pieces are these ;-" The Song of Harold Harfager," the words by Sir Walter Scott, and the music by Mr John Thomson, of Edinburgh. We have seen no composition by Mr Thomson which pleases us more than this; it is remarkably bold and spirited, (particularly in the first part,) and, what is always of importance, the music is admirably adapted to the words:-" Placa gli sdegni tuoi,"-Italian words, set to a beautiful duet of Cherubino, every-way worthy of the gifted author of "Crudel Perche." Cherubino's music seldom fails to charm. We remember the delight with which we heard his overture to "Anacreon" encored at the first musical festival here:-" Lutzow's Wild Hunt," translated by Mr George Hogarth, from the German, the music by Weber. Weber was the Lord Byron of modern music. His " Lutzow's Hunt" is a splendid piece, but it should be heard only with the original German words, which make the effect wild and impressive in the highest degree. A harp accompaniment is also a great improve ment, and gives a fine, full, swelling sound to the whole. Few things are more to be lamented by the lovers of music than Weber's premature fate. He had a genius and a style which have died with him; and which, for originality of conception and vigour of execution, we scarcely expect to see equalled again in our time:—“ The Moorish Maiden," composed by Horn. This is a very delightful little melody, full of a lively archness, and with a character of its own, which is a great thing in songs of this sort. We foretell that many a bright-eyed damsel, between this Christmas and the next, will sing this song to her lover, and the smiling glances she will fling to wards the poor youth as she sings, will seal his fate for ever. We are sorry we cannot extract the music, and give it a place here; but the words, which are also sprightly, will afford some notion of the air; and here they are:


By J. A. Wade.

"Oh ! lullaby, lullaby, father dear!'

Thus sigh'd a young Moorish maid, While a captive she loved to her bower came near, And whisper'd this serenade:Oh! list to me, Abra! morning breaks; 'Twill soon be too late for our flight'Hark! hark! Ben Helim suddenly speaks, "Whose music is this to-night?' 'Tis my lullaby, lullaby, father dear,' The trembling Abra said;

I would sing you to rest, but my lute, I feel,
Was wrong in the sounds it play'd.
Oh! lullaby, lullaby, father dear,

I was wrong in the sounds I play'd.'
The lullaby soothed him, again he slept,
Again was the serenade sung,
The maiden for lover and father wept,
What could she?-so gentle and young!

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One kiss on the old man's slumbering eyes,

That waken'd her heart's best tears;
One look at heaven in the Moorish skies,
And away from her land for years;
From her lullaby, lullaby, father dear,'
From all the fond ties of home,

That are nothing, or little, when they are near,
But which we regret when we roam ;-
Her lullaby, lullaby, father dear!'
Would oft to her fancy come."

"The Song of the Pilgrim" is a very graceful and flowing melody; and the composer, Mendelshon Bartholdy, who visited Edinburgh a few months ago, is one of the most extraordinary and accomplished young men at present in the musical world :- "We shall not meet again, Love," by Mr G. Hogarth, is a very sweet composition, and reflects credit even on the acknowledged musical taste of its author:-"La Chanteuse," by Panseron, is a light and playful ditty, finely corresponding with the words, which are no less so. For the sake of sunny France, a land to us of many delightful reminiscences, we subjoin them:


"Chanter c'est mon bonheur supreme, tra, la, la, la, la, la, Chaque garçon me dit qu'il m'aime, tra, la, la, la, la, la.

"Oui, je me ris de leur constance,

De leurs tourmens, de leurs souffrance,
Et sans pitié pour leurs chansons,

A leurs soupirs moi je reponds, tra, la, la, &c.

"Ils parlent, je chante sans cesse, tra, la, &c.
'Croyez à ma vive tendresse,' tra, la, &c.
Ah! d'amour mon âme ravie,

Je veux vous aimer pour la vie,
Mais du moins par un mot flatteur,

Daignez approuver mon ardeur,' tra, la, &c.

"Leur amour se change en colère, tra, la, la, &c.
'Un jour vous serez moins sévère,' tra, la, &c.
Aimer c'est une loi supreme;'

Me disent ils, Il faut qu'on aime ;
Ce désir un jour vous viendra,

Mais vieille alors on vous dira,' tra, la, la, la, &c."

The rest of the vocal music of this volume we do not consider quite so happy, with the exception, perhaps, of the "Ave Sanctissima" of poor R. A. Smith, who had a fine perception of the calmer and gentler beauties of musical composition. Knapton's air, entitled "Youth renewed," is not at all in keeping with Montgomery's words. Both the words and the music of "Young Ellen,”—the first by Bayly, and the second by H. Philips-are commonplace." Oh! the hour to meet" is only a new version of "La Biondina;" and "I knew not the world con

Of the instrumental music a good deal is not original, and it is therefore unnecessary to particularise it. The introductory march for the piano-forte and flute, by Moschelles, is bold and good; and the trio in A flat, which it comprises, is also clever. There is an air by Spohr, which, though pretty good, is by no means one of his best. This composer is much esteemed in Germany, and deserves to be better known here than he is. Bochsa's adaptation for the harp of Rossini's charming air, " Assisa a pie," is good. The volume concludes with the following facsimiles, all of which are curious and interesting :—Weber's first sketches of the Opera of Oberon; Air by Mozart; Canon by Clementi; Musical Puzzle-to be read either way-by Hadyn; and Andante by Beeth


The Musical Bijou, of which the first volume was published last year, is in no respect inferior to Apollo's Gift. Its five lithographic embellishments are all good. They are entitled, "The Arabian Steed," "The Exiled Knight," "The Bridal Morn," "The Parting," and "The Presentation Plate." The literary contents are yet more varied and ambitious, several prose tales being introduced, and some poems which are not set to music. The contributors, both to the literary and musical departments, are numerous and highly respectable. The following song by Bayly, not unsuccessfully set by Rawlings, is the first in the volume:

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On the whole, the instrumental music is better than the vocal in the Bijou. The three best songs are, A Persian Love Song," by J. Jolly; "Helm and Shield are stain'd with rust," by Bishop; and "Ye stars of Night," a duet by Barnett, of which the melody is sweet and

tained," by Barnet, is a very close imitation, especially in simple, and full of feeling, the harmony good, and the

the first part, of a well-known German Waltz. The fine words by Lady Caroline Lamb, beginning "Couldst thou but know," are very well adapted to a sweet and melancholy air by the Duke of Marlborough. Many of our readers may have seen these words before, but we have a pleasure in transferring them to our pages:


By Lady Caroline Lamb.

"Couldst thou but know, but know what 'tis to weep-
To weep unpitied and alone,
The livelong night whilst others sleep,
Silent and mournful watch to keep,

Thou wouldst not do what I have done.
"Couldst thou but know what 'tis to smile,
To smile when scorn'd by every one;
To hide by many an artful wile,
A heart that knows more grief than guile,
Thou wouldst not do what I have done.

"And, oh! if thou couldst think how drear,
When friends are changed, and health is gone,
The world would to thine eyes appear,
If thou, like me, to none wert dear,

Thou wouldst not do what I have done."

"Stay, Time,


whole within the compass of ordinary voices. The air of "The Exiled Knight" is not melancholy enough, but the symphonies are good, and partake more of the character of the words than the song itself. stay," is light and rather elegant; but the accompaniment is deficient. The" Air Espagnol" is pretty; and there are some clever passages in "Rest ye, rest ye, rapid streams," by Rodwell. Of the instrumental music, our favourites are the "Waltz," by Burrowes, which is exceedingly graceful. The first part is not so good as the second, and the third is more elegant than either. fourth part, commencing in the key of C, is all good:"Air, with Variations," by J. W. Holder, which is easy and flowing, and the passages lie well to the hand: "Rondo and Polacca," by Herz, in which the subject is well chosen, "Dormez, dormez," being a favourite French air, and the Polacca which follows, an approved Spanish air; the arrangement also is good, and the composition not so difficult as Herz's music generally is :-" Divertimento, introducing a fairy march," by Kiallmark, light and pretty:-And" Duet for the Piano-forte," by Kalkbrenner, which is exceedingly good, and full of fine modulation In speaking of the songs, we omitted to mention a mance" by Rossini, adapted to French words by M

Though difficult to do justice to, it is one of the best compositions in the volume. The accompaniments are very fine, and the whole is more in Weber's than in Rossini's usual style. Before quitting the Musical Bijou, we can-, not deny ourselves the pleasure of quoting the following. beautiful little poem by Mrs Hemans, which, we observe, is reprinted from the Cambrian Quarterly Magazine:


By Mrs Hemans.

"The voice of thy streams in my spirit I bear

Farewell! and a blessing be with thee, green land!
On thy halls, on thy hearths, on thy pure mountain air,
On the strings of the harp, and the minstrel's free hand!
From the love of my soul with my tears it is shed,
Whilst I leave thee, oh! land of my home and my dead!

"I bless thee; yet not for the beauty which dwells
In the heart of thy hills, or the waves of thy shore;
And not for the memory set deep in thy dells,

Of the bard and the warrior-the mighty of yore;
And not for thy songs of those proud ages fled,
Green land, poet-land of my home and my dead!

"I bless thee for all the true bosoms that beat,

Where'er a lone hamlet smiles under thy skies;
For thy peasant hearths burning, the stranger to greet,
For the soul that looks forth from thy children's kind

May the blessing, like sunshine, around thee be spread,
Green land of my childhood, my home, and my dead!"

The Musical Gem, which is edited by Messrs Ball and
Bochsa, has six lithographic embellishments, of which
the two most interesting are well-executed portraits of
Madame Malibran Garcia and Mademoiselle Sontag.
Short memoirs of both these ladies are also given.
notice of Garcia, which is very brief, we subjoin:



"This highly accomplished lady is the daughter of Signor Garcia, the well-known tenor singer, who made his appearance on the stage of the Italian Opera in London in 1818, and again in 1823. She was first introduced to the public on the same boards, in the character of Rosina in Il Barbiere di Seviglia in the season of 1825, when only in her seventeenth year, and immediately secured that enviable popularity which so justly distinguishes her various talents. In 1826, she accompanied her father to America, where operas were then performing at New York, in which city she married Monsieur Malibran. Two years afterwards, she was in the highest vogue in Paris, from whence she returned to the King's Theatre in London, where she shone with increased lustre through the brilliant season of 1829. The natural gifts, and industriously-cultivated acquirements of this young and graceful artiste, place her at the head of her laborious profession. To the acknowledged charms of voice, face, and person, she adds mental attainments of uncommon excellence. Equally mistress of the English, French, Spanish, and Italian languages, Madame Malibran has issued various musical compositions, to which science and public taste have affixed alike the stamp of favour. In the words of an eminent critic:- She has all the endowment, all the acquisition, and, above both, all the devotion and concentration of mind common to those strong and gifted individuals who rise to pre-eminence, whatever the nature of their pursuits.""

On the whole, we have gone over each of these three volumes with very considerable satisfaction. Though it is not to be denied that most of the best pieces they contain are by foreign composers, they yet argue well of the proficiency to which this country has now attained in musical science; and the extensive sale which we trust they will find, will still farther prove, that a general desire to cultivate this most fascinating of all arts or sciences is extending itself more and more over the kingdom. We should be glad to see one or all of these books in every drawing-room we enter.

The History of Scotland. By Sir Walter Scott, Bart. In two volumes. Vol. I. Post 8vo. Pp. 352. (Being Volume First of the Historical Department of Dr Lardner's Cabinet Cyclopædia.) London. Printed for Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown, and Green. 1830. We attempted, not long ago, (in reviewing the second series of Stories from the History of Ireland,) to express our notion of the peculiar characteristics of Sir Walter's genius, and the manner in which knowledge arranged and matured itself in his mind. We do not intend to go over again so soon what we then said; it will be time enough to repeat ourselves some five or six years hence; we have not yet quite exhausted our good things. But we wish the reader to keep in mind, that somehow or another, legically or illogically, we came to the opinion, that Sir Walter, by a kind of inexplicable tact, generally managed to arrive at just conclusions, although it was often difficult to discover the way by which he reached them. This peculiarity eminently fits him for the execution of the task he has now taken in hand, the compilation of a popular history of his native land. His style of narrative is admirably calculated to please that large class who, though reading for amusement, are contented to take instruction also, provided it comes without too much labour. Sir Walter never interrupts the smooth progress of the work by a tough piece of ratiocination, or a teazing reference to authorities, which might induce a half wish, on the part of his readers, to try once in their lives to judge for themselves, but which the vis inertia of their nature renders, both morally and physically, impossible. At the same time, he is to these people, what they seldom meet with, plicit confidence. We know not how it is, but we feel -a guide, in whom wiser men might repose all but imconvinced that our author has formed, in his own way, a juster notion of the history of Scotland, than men of much higher pretensions to acute and laborious research. We are willing to pit our historian against either of his collaborateurs, (Sir James Mackintosh and Thomas Moore,) and give them odds. It is impossible that either of them can come to time. Sir James will not be ready before the year 1867,-Moore not till he has finished his Life of Byron, and heaven only knows in what anno domini that will be!

Sir Walter says, in his first page," Our limits oblige us to treat this interesting subject more concisely than we could wish, and we are, of course, under the necessity of rejecting many details which engage the attention and fascinate the imagination." This voluntary preference of the equable flow of a continuous narrative, to the admixture of strong lights and shadows, which, affording a rich harvest of sparkling quotations, are the joy of the critic, obliges us to pursue a line of conduct to which we are perhaps occasionally too much addicted-taking all the talk to ourselves, and leaving no vacant space for the author to show how he can speak.

Of the songs in this volume, "The crystal stream," by Barnett, is pretty good; "Leonore," by Weigl, is better; "The Mountain Boy," by Walter Turnbull, is pretty, but not quite so original as we could wish; "The VineDresser's Song" consists of words adapted to Weber's exquisite Waltz, which are so completely inapposite, that they reflect materially upon the taste of the Editors. The idea of setting lively words to this beautiful and pathetic composition-a composition which breathes the very soul The present volume brings the story down to the disof feeling is preposterous. Lord Byron's poem, "I saw astrous field of Flodden, and the death of James IV. The thee weep," is very successfully set to music by Malibran previous history, according to the luminous aud graphic -the minor, in particular, is very felicitous. Among details of our author, may be fitly divided into three pe the instrumental music, we are especially pleased with riods. The first extends to the accession of Malcolm the two Waltzes by Lady William Lennox, which are at once graceful and ladylike.

Cean-more. This may be considered as the time during which the petty tribes of Scotland were massing them

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