flourishes the ancient 'taws' with which in former days he used to reduce disorderly newcomers to discipline and order. The whole scene is one of vigorous action and masterly force, forming the greatest possible contrast with the monotonous, unmethodical, illseconded working of the English teacher."

No one can doubt that a very great part of this difference of result is due to the difference between an invariable income depending in no way on success, and one depending almost entirely upon

success.

Important changes are also called for in the condition of the governing bodies, but it will be more convenient to discuss these in the concluding paper of this series, in which we shall have to sketch the probable future of our grammar schools as shadowed forth in the comprehensive scheme recommended by the Commissioners.

HOME AGAIN!

OME again! Spared the perils of years,
Spared of rough seas and rougher lands,
And I look in your eyes once, once again,
Hear your voices, and grasp your hands!

Not changed the least, least bit in the world!
Not aged a day, as it seems to me !
The same dear faces-the same dear home-
All the same as it used to be!

Ah! here is the garden! Here the limes,
Still in their sunset green and gold,
And the level lawn, with the pattern in't
Where the grass has been newly roll'd.

And here come the rabbits, lumping along,-
No! That's never the same white doe,
With the pinky lops and the munching mouth?
Yet 'tis like her as snow to snow.

And here's Nep in his old heraldic style,
Erect, chain-tightening all he can ;
With Topsy, wagging that inch of tail,—
What, you know me again, old man?

The pond, where the lilies float and bloom!
The gold fish in it, just the same,

Too fat to stir in the cool,—yes, one

Shoots and gleams, and goes out like flame!

And yonder's he tree with the giant's face,
Nose and chin against the blue;
And the two elm-branches here, with still
Our famous swing between the two!

VOL. I., N. S. 1868.

Y

No change! Nay, it only seems last night
That I return'd your fond "Good-byes,"
As I heard the rain drip from the eaves,
And felt its moisture in my eyes.

Only last night that you throng'd the porch,
While I choked the words I couldn't say,
And poor little Jim's white face peep'd out,
Dimly seen while I stole away.

Poor little Jim! In this happy hour

His wee, white face our hearts recall, And I miss a hand and a voice, and see The little crutch against the wall.

So all life's sunshine is fleck'd with shade,
So all delight is touch'd with pain,
So tears of sorrow and tears of joy
Welcome the wanderer home again!

WILLIAM SAWYER.

MUSIC IN VANITY FAIR.

PART III.

far as amateur music is concerned, our Fair for 1868 is at an end. Every fashionable booth is closed.

Lady Mortgage's afternoon receptions are over-the ices all melted-the last cup of tea has been poured out and emptied. The drawing-rooms in which talking and music contended with each other for supremacy until both were overcome by the heat, are now silent and deserted; sober brown holland covers the luxurious couches on which beauty reposed awhile; the blinds are down, and the carpets, it is believed, are up. Spasmodic vocal music no longer comes through open windows, startling passengers along the streets; lackeys no longer throng the doorsteps; the amateur queens of song have migrated, and with them all Belgravia seems to have departed. The stately Diva of private life, whose ringing tones electrify all hearers, now seeks repose at some Rhenish Bade Anstalt, and goes through a water cure as arduous as any course of training. It is a change certainly from the feasting, dancing, singing, and late hours of London, to rise with the lark, breakfast early, dine at one, and go to bed in reasonable time. Much good may the change do her, and may the ringing tones be stronger than ever next season, when all who admire dramatic singing will rejoice to hear Abigaille's "Ambita gloria" once again triumphantly proclaimed. The prima donna of the Grange is now inhaling her native highland air, and rambles joyously through the heather, caroling "the nightingale's trill" to the utter confusion and shame of all other warbling bipeds thereabouts.

Marguerite far away from Faust, Mephistopheles, and all their works, hums her favourite valse after the fashion of a modern Undine, without the pianoforte accompaniment which she plays so cleverly, in the waters of Boulogne or Biarritz. Maddalena wends her way slowly towards Rome to delight the painters who do her homage. The quartetts and trios, to rehearse which necessitated so many pleasant meetings, occasionally marred by a difference of opinion, are now dispersed, and the sopranos, contraltos, tenors, and basses,

distributed in various parts of the civilised world, sing their re spective solos independently and regardless of time or tune-a freedom they did not altogether renounce when in company with each other.

How vigorously the maestro used to work to keep the ensemble in order, and how vexed Maddalena appeared when any of the party had failed to keep the appointment for practice! She was always up to time-chronologically and musically exact-and treated the quartetts and trios so seriously as to make one fancy the whole duty of man and woman too were involved in their proper execution. They were well performed when her exhortations were obeyed, for her knowledge of music is extensive, and her appreciation of all Art invariably correct. The richly toned voice of the contralto brunette who joined in some of those morceaux d'ensemble—now sounding melodiously above all others-now blending deliciously with the restadded greatly to their effect. The same fair singer took part in the operettas that were given early in the season, and exhibited much talent for the stage, declaiming every word as well as every note allotted to her with appropriate expression; distinct articulation of the text is indeed one of the many favourable characteristics of her singing. In the operettas at Cromwell House a soprano who has attained distinction as a song writer under the assumed name of Marina, also appeared, and fairly divided the honours of the per formances with the contralto. Having a most sympathetic voice well under control, Marina played and sang her roles with great dramatic feeling and artistic skill.

The musical performances that have been heard recently in the London salons, go far to upset the oft repeated aphorism that very good amateurs make bad artists. There are some ten or twelve of our female amateur musicians who by constant practice have acquired greater musical proficiency than many professors of the art possess. The vocal attainments of these accomplished ladies rival those of our most popular public singers. They have pursued the study of music conscientiously, and mastered its difficulties accordingly. Their performances are as artistic as those of the recognised artist; their position alone exempts them from criticism, but even judged by the highest standards of excellence they would pass successfully through the severe ordeal. More perfect vocalisation than that of the amateur soprano for whom Sullivan composed many of his songs, and Blumenthal his " 'Pilgrim," cannot be desired. There are others whose playing and singing are a delight to listen to, and whose musical efficiency establishes their claim to con