MUSIC.

Ir is one of the fairest and most glorious gifts of God, to which Satan is a bitter enemy; for it removes from the heart the weight of sorrow, and the fascination of evil thoughts. Music is a kind and gentle discipline; it refines the passions, and improves the understanding. Those who love music are honest and gentle in their tempers. I always loved music, and would not for a great matter be without the little skill I possess in this art.-LUTher.

Touching musical harmony, whether by instrument or voice, such is the force thereof, and so pleasing effects it hath in that very part of man which is most divine, that some have been thereby induced to think that the soul itself, by nature, is or hath in it harmony.-HOOKER'S ECCLESIASTICAL PO

LITY.

Music indeed! Give me a mother sing ing to her fat, rosy baby, and making the house ring with her extravagant hyper

bolical encomiums on it. That the music which is the "food for love," and not the formal, pedantic noises, and affectation of skill, which is, now-a-days, the ruin of half the young couples in the middle ranks

of life.-COBBETT.

-Ten thousand sit

Patiently present at a sacred song, Commemoration mad, content to hearO wonderful effect of Music's power!Messiah's eulogy, for Handel's sake. COWPER.

New Books.

The Pic Nic Papers. Edited by Boz. 3 vols. Colburn.

THESE volumes are full of spirited and interesting sketches, by some of the most distinguished writers of the present day. Many of the pieces are brimful of that broad, farcical humour, oddity of conception, and off-hand drollery, so characteristic of the Editor. Every page of the second volume is rich in caricature, sly, incidental satire, and humorous pictures of American life and manners. 66 Peter Pilgarlick Pigwiggen" is an example of the influence of undevoloped genius—a wasted man; his talents are, like money in a strong box, returning no interest; a species of Byron in an egg, but, unable to chip the shell, his genius remains unhatched. The chicken moves and faintly chirps within; but no one sees it-no one heeds it. Peter feels the high aspirations and mysterious im ginings of poesy circling about the interiors of his cranium, but there they stay. "How is it," said he "how is it I can't level down my expressions to the comprehension of the

vulgar, or level up the vulgar to the comwhat I mean myself, but nobody else does; prehension of my expressions? I know and the impudent editors say it's wasting room to print what nobody understands. I am chock full of genius, and running over; for I hate all sorts of work myself, and all sorts of people mean enough to do it. Genius is as tender as a skinned cat, and flies into a passion whenever you touch it. When I condescend to unbuzzum myself, for a little sympathy, to folks of ornery intellect and caparisoned to me, I know very few people that ar'nt ornery as to brainsand pour forth feelings indigginus to a poetic soul, which is always biling, they ludicrate the deuce I'm driving at. my sitiation, and say they don't know what Isn't genius always served o' this fashion in the earth, as Hamlet, the boy after my own heart, says? And when the slights of the world, and of the printers, set me in a frenzy, and my soul swells and swells till it almost tears the shirt off my buzzum, and even fractures vates me above the common herd, they my dickey; when it expansuates, and ele laugh again, and tell me not to be pompious. The poor plebinians, and worse than Russian scurfs!" "Billy Jones" concludes, that "before long folks wont be of no use at all; all the business of life will be done by steam." "Gamaliel Gambril" belongs to four people beside himself—" the old woman and them three children; I'm a partnership concern, and so many has got their fingers in the till, that I must break, and sign over the stock in trade." "Linkum Langcale" is a chap without no end to him; "he'd be pretty long a-drowning, anyhow," says a passer-by, seeing him in the kennel. there were any more like him in the gutters, it would be better to get a windlass and wind them up. The corporation ought to buy him, starch him up stiff, cut a hole in his hat for a clock, and use him for a steeple."

"If

"The Student of Bagdad" is an exquisite tale, possessing all the felicity of expression, and beauty of thought, so peculiar to its author, Thomas Moore. We shall give it at length, satisfied that a perusal of it will direct our readers to the volumes themselves, which contain much that is farcical, hearty in fun, spirited in romance, and a great variety of exceedingly beautiful and highly interesting tales.

"THE STUDENT OF BAGDAD.-'What news from the Khalif's army?' asked the young student. His question was addressed to a grave and venerable politician, whom he found seated by his side, enjoying the cool of the evening, under a portico of the great College Al Mostanseriah at Bagdad. Gloomy enough,' answered the stranger; our troops are flying in all directions from the conqueror, Ho

6

lagu.' And what, then, mean those shouts and sounds of rejoicing through the city ?' They are for our last defeat, which the Khalif's minister (whom Allah bless!) declares, as he values his honour and his place, was no defeat at all, but a victory. He has accordingly ordered the inhabitants of Bagdad to rejoice, which they are now doing with the worst grace imaginable.' 'How wise are the descendants of Abbas!' thought the youth to himself. But,' he resumed, the Tartar will soon be at your gates-does not the Khalif mean to arm the inhabitants ?' 'Allah forbid!' exclaimed the old gentleman, who belonged to the established sect of the Sonnites,what! trust a hair of our orthodox heads to fellows who disbelieve the Chapter of the Blanket! You are a stranger, young man, or you would have known us better!' The student, on this, wished the pious Sonnite a good evening, and retired to his lodgings.

"The name of this youth was Niall. He had left Europe under the banners of the Saint-King, Louis, and had done honour to the Red Branch he bore on his shield, at the battles of Al Mansurah and the Ashmun, in the latter of which the monarch himself was taken prisoner. When St. Louis, how ever, (having purchased back his sacred person from the Mussulmans, at a price which few kings have been worth to their subjects,) concluded a peace with Azzoddin Aybec, and returned to France, young Niall, who had rather more taste for learning than was common among his brother crusaders in general, resolved to visit the schools of the East, and to exchange the pious task of murdering heathens for the somewhat more useful one of studying and improving by them.

6

This

"Put up those books,' said the student to his Arab servant, and meet me early in the morning at Masud's villa.' villa was a small rural retreat on the banks of the Tigris, which belonged to Masud, his venerable preceptor; and to which the youth often fled, for coolness, during the sultry nights of that climate. The sun had just set, and the modest Arabian jasmines, which had kept the secret of their fragrance to themselves all day, were now beginning to let the sweet mystery out, and make every passing breeze their confidant. To some minds the hour of sunset brings a feeling of sadness, and a Laplander might well be allowed a little pensiveness on such *Thus versified afterwards in Lalla Rookh':"From plants that wake, when others sleep; From timid jasmine buds, that keep Their fragrance to themselves all day, But, when the sun-light dies away, Let the delicious secret out

To every breeze that roams about."

an occasion. But to judge by the gaiety with which he now rowed his boat down the Tigris, this was by no means one of Niall's weaknesses. Not that there was anything beyond pleasant remembrances, to give his spirits such buoyancy at this moment; but his had ever been that rare and happy kind of imagination which retains the impressions of past pleasure, as the Bologna stone treasures up sunbeams.

He was now arrived in sight of the little villa of Masud; and the mild moonlight that fell upon every object becalmed the whole scene into such bright and beautiful repose as gave a tone of softness even to the wild spirits of Niall. Not far beyond this villa was the palace of the Emir Al Omera, the most favourite counsellor of the Khalif, and chosen, like most other favourite counsellors, for his great zeal and courage in recommending measures which he saw his master had fully determined on, in his own august mind, already. But the chief point on which this emir prided himself was the superior excellence of his seraglio and his library, and it was acknowledged, indeed, that in all Bagdad there was no such tasteful collector of beauties and books.

"But whither is the youth directing his course? He has already passed the humble villa of Masud, and is now gliding under the shadows of the Egyptian willows which hang from the lofty terrace of Al Omera's seraglio. Is it the wild beauty of the evening that tempts him so far? or is he indulging in contemplation of the fair planet, Venus, which is just now shining with that halfretired disk which, astronomers inform us, is the loveliest of all her phases?

"Before these questions can be answered with any certainty, we must return to some important events, left, not undesignedly, behind us.

the hinder foot should always be the firmer; "In going up a hill, says the poet Dante, and certainly, in the up-hill work of narrative, the hind foot of the story cannot be too firmly planted.

"One morning during the Nevrouz, or Festival of the Spring, having risen with the sun, and walked into the gay, shining lawn that sloped from his study to the river, still wet with the night-dew, the prints of a Niall observed, along the grass which was foot so small and exquisitely formed, that he could have sworn it must belong to some spiritual being, did he not know how rarely immortals leave traces of themselves be

hind. Surprised at this phenomenon, he followed the direction of the footsteps, and could track them up close to the lattice of a small pavilion where he frequently studied at night. From thence they returned, and continuing for some time by the side of the river, were wholly lost at the entrance of a deep and dark wood which divided the

"It was little more than mid-day when, for the second time, the fair Haluta directed her course, with a beating heart,

towards Masud's lawn. The heat was ex

cessive; every eye that could afford it was shut up in sleep, nor was there at that moment a single man of fashion awake in all Bagdad. The only sounds that broke on the stillness, as she passed with languid step across the lawn, was a faint laugh, now and then, from a distant group of peasant girls who were taking advantage of that hour of repose to bathe, under the shade of the tamarind-trees, in the clear waters of the Tigris.

"She looked anxiously towards the pavilion-it was now silent and empty; but a sort of instinct whispered to her to try the dark alley of limes on the right. This path opened upon a small lake which now lay basking in the full splendours of noon, while the verdure around it slept coolly under the shadows of the encircling trees. The source of this lake was a marble fountain, almost hidden among the limes, from which the water stole with a clear but loitering current, as if half afraid to encounter the sunshine that wantoned so boldly over the lake. The deep basin, in which the stream thus lingered on its way, looked clear and motionless as a mirror; and by its side lay young Niall, in a light, dreamy sleep, his cheek resting against the marble, whose pale, inanimate hue was contrasted strikingly with the fresh glow of his manly features. Haluta's heart beat high, as well with apprehension as with hope, while she wrote on a tablet the following verses, and tremblingly hung them from a branch of the tree which formed the canopy of his resting place.

'He that was content to look
At the moonlight in the brook,
To reward his humble view,
Saw both brook and moonlight too;
While the proud, aspiring elf,
Who would view the moon himself,
Fell into the brook before him,
Ere he saw the moonlight o'er him.
Dost thou love a smile of joy?
Seek it in the fountain, boy;
Look not up, or thou shalt miss
Present smile and future bliss.'

"The rustling sound caused by Haluta, in placing these verses, had somewhat loosened the bonds of sleep; and scarcely had she time to fly and hide herself among the lime-trees, when the young student awoke. His first movement, on seeing the tablets, was to look anxiously round for the writer of them. But she was too well shaded within the foliage for even her bright eyes to betray her; and no sooner did she perceive that he had read the verses,

their mandate, he bent his head down over the water, than, with a palpitating heart, she stole from her concealment; and, stepping on a rustic bench immediately behind him, looked down over the liquid mirror, with a smile whose reflection, like Greek fire, burned unquenchably through the very waters. The young student started with astonishment; and was just on the point of forgetting the warning of the verses, when Haluta, gently laying her hand upon his head, said, with a voice sweet as the song of promise,

'Look not up, or thou shalt miss
Present smile and future bliss;'

and then, flying through the lime-tree walk, like an antelope, scarce touched the grass of the lawn, and was once more in the gardens of the seraglio.

"Oh, Plato!' exclaimed the student, as he returned thoughtfully to his lone pavilion, if, as thou sayest, whatever of good or lovely we see in this world be but the shadow, the softened reflection of something glorious above us, let that smile which I have just seen be the exemplar of all my thoughts; and, as I gaze upon the passing stream of life, be it my lot to have always such bright eyes thus peeping over my shoulder!'

The Gatherer.

66

Lord Brougham v. the Attorney-General.On the occasion of a most interesting appeal from Scotland in the House of Lords, the ex-chancellor dissented entirely from the law and practice as laid down by the attorney-general. "Your lordship cannot recollect," said the attorney-" your lordship must forget.' Strange alterations, then," said Brougham, " since I knew anything of Scotch law." "Your lordship must forget," reiterated the attorney-general. "I have no doubt, Mr. Attorney," said his lordship, at length wrought into a rage-"I have no doubt but that I have forgot more than twice as much as you ever knew."

Commerce tends to wear off those prejudices which maintain distinction and animosity between nations. It softens and polishes the manners of men. It unites them by one of the strongest of all ties, the desire of supplying their mutual wants. It disposes them to peace, by establishing in every state an order of citizens bound by their interests to be the guardians of public tranquillity. As soon as the commercial spirit acquires vigour, and begins to gain an ascendant in any society, we discover a new genius in its policy, its alliances, its wars, and its negotiations.—Robertson,