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was driven abroad in a state of half exile, half If this narrative be not strictly

true, it is less dependence. The young wife was grudgingly wonderful than many truths. The remainder assisted, and that only on condition that she we leave to the reader's fancy, for it will not should bury herself in some village where the alway's do to unite in a fiction the lights and parents of her husband should not be offended shadows which come so abruptly together in with the sight of one whose presence reminded real life; but, as some aid to the imagination, them that their child had consulted his own we will merely say that a little girl, very like happiness rather than their pride. The rest the Bertha, popped out from behind the breakfastreader knows already. If she sinned, bitterly room door, on Friday, the 1st of January, 1847, did she suffer. Nor did the father, ere sum- and criedmoned to his account, escape - for the pride “ A happy New Year, father and motherwhich tramples on another, rends its own heart. I now I've caught you both!”


RAMBLES ix the Hartz MOUNTAINS. By | appeared as if we stood on an island, for the clouds H. C. Andersen. Translated by C. Beckwith. – lay below us, as far as we could see, like a huge This is an exceedingly interesting

book. Ander- swelling ocean that had suddenly ceased to move. sen possesses a poet's eye and ear for nature; No red streak, as in the morning, showed in the blue no sound or sight apparently escapes hinn-his heavens above; the sun rose without its rays, like a eyes and ears are wide open to drink in the horizon did its clear light stream forth over the sea of

large ball of blood, and not until it was above the beauties of nature and art." His descriptions of clouds. As the sun rose higher the light clouds scenery are most graphically given : he is a began to evaporate-the other, as it were, absorbed thorough artist-his book is a succession of them, whilst the wind drove the heavier clouds down beautiful pictures and melodies, all coloured and between the mountains, which now rose like islands heightened by a poet's fancy. We will transcribe in the great sea of clouds. Everything soon became a few of his scenes which impressed us with clearer and clearer; we saw towns and church-towers, their beauty. Like all poets, Andersen is a pas- fields and meadows, all appeared like the most sionate lover of the sea-to him it is the emblem charming miniature landscapes round about. So fine of human life : in its storms and in its calm, could see Magdeburg, with its towers, quite distinctly;

a morning there had not been on the Brocken. We he reads the mysteries of life.

also Halberstad and Quedlingsburg, the towers of the The SEA.

high cathedral at Erfurt, the mountain-palaces—Die The sea lay before me like a mirror ; not a wave

Gleichen, and Wilhelms Hohe, near Cassel-besides rippled the broad surface. It is delightful to sail

a throng of lesser places and villages round about. between sea and sky, whilst the heart sings its

Sometimes the road led through the thick forest, yearning sense of pleasure, and the spirit sees the sometimes by the edge of the rock, when we saw the significant, changing, resonant figures that arise from lesser mountains, far below, with their dark pines : these tuneful waves. The heart and the sea are, they appeared like hills, where some one had planted however, strangely allied! The sea is the world's potatoes, which raised their low green tops in the air. great heart : therefore it roars so deeply in the stormy The strange light veil that lay over the whole scene night; therefore it fills our heart with sadness or

beneath us looked as if it were a large green glass, enthusiasm, when the clear starry firmament- that through which one saw the whole magnificent scenery. great image of eternity-shows itself on its quiet The mist stood as if pressed together in a cloud surface. Heaven and earth are reflected in the sea

between the narrow rocky walls; one could not see as in our hearts ; but the heart of man never becomes the objects below it, and yet it lay so light and airy so quiet as ocean, after life's storm has shaken it to that the eye felt it must be fine as the air itself. The the centre. Yet, our lifetime here-how insignificant birds began to sing, the dew lay in clear drops on the compared with the duration of that great world's flowers, and the sun shone on the great and glorious bodies! In a moment the great sea also forgets its landscape before us. How beautiful the world is ! storms; for to a world's body weeks and days are

What endless grandeur, from the smallest flower with but moments. The heart dreams of its love on the its fragrance, to my heart with its flaming thoughts ; sea's glassy surface! There is nothing in the whole and again, from that to the great globe, with its of nature that shows a bodily image of this life’s holy glorious mountains and the swelling seas ! What mysteries more than the great, the glorious sea,

cares the heart about what the flower dreams, whilst which, like the sky, encompasses the whole earth, it expands its odours so sweetly powerful in the and shows its infinity on its tranquil surface. Love morning dew ?—there is something far greater, someis also a depth like the sea, on whose foundation life thing far more important, that sets it in motion. and death build, whilst Hope lets her richly-laden What cares the world about the longings of a single barks sail from coast to coast.

heart, and the flower's fragrance ?-mightier passions,

the combats and destruction of a whole people, MORNING.

revolutions in nature, and the life of man, are its It was about half-past two when I was called up to dreams and thoughts. see the sun rise ; most of the visitors were already

CHILDHOOD. out of doors, wrapped up in cloaks and mantles. With bandkerchiefs round their heads, there stood a Meissen Cathedral is a fine gothic building: the motley group of persons from widely different places, sun shone in through the high windows, and a little all with one thought—"The sun is now rising.” It bird, that had come in, flapped and beat its wings

against the panes to get out. It was the world of my on it, but they are only dots! The villages lie down own childhood that I saw! Childhood also is such a there like playthings on a stall. Yonder köningstein holy, gothic church, where the sun shines swectly and Silienstein rise half way up into the cloud of through the variegated panes, where every gloomy mists; but see, the cloud is breaking! the sun's rays nook awakens a powerful feeling, and where the fall on Ptaffenstein and the Cupola mountains ! the simplest images, from its light and legend, have a far whole curtain rolls up, and in the aznre distance you deeper signification! Every-day life shows itself see the Bohemian Persenberge and Geisingberge in in childhood in its Sunday clothes ; God and the Erzgebirge. Close by us, towards the left, there are world lie much nearer to each other; and yet the only some rocks which rise from the abyss; and heart beats and flutters like the little bird in the from the deep a walled pillar lifts itself, on which church, after the new future without, where perhaps rests a bridge that unites · Baster' with das Fel. the hunter waits behind the bush to fire a shot senschloss.' It is quite dark in the rocky ravine through its wings.

under us ; it looks as if this huge mass of rock had A PANORAMIC View.

been riven asunder, as if some mighty power bad

here tried to split our proud globe in two. The road We descended, step by step, deeper and deeper wound along the deep abyss ; rocks and clefts sucinto the valley : this was Ottowalder Grund: the ceeded each other alternately. The whole scene was rocky walls arose on both sides in the strangest i to me like a great lyrical dramatic poem, in all pos. forms, and richly grown with wild plants, roots, and sible metres. The rivulet brauled, in the choicest various coloured mosses ; the trees and bushes stood iambics, over the many stones that lay in the way; in picturesque groups between the clefts of the rocks; the rocks stood as broad and proud as respective far below rushed a little streamlet, and above us we hexameters. The butterflies whispered sonnets to the siw but once a small piece of the grey sky. The flowers as they kissed their fragrant leaves, and all rocky walls were soon so close together that there the singing birds warbled, in sapphic and alcaie was only space for one at a time; three immense strains. 1, on the contrary, was silent, and will also blocks of stone had fallen from above, and formed a be here." natural arch, under wbich we had to pass ; here it was quite gloomy. The vale suddenly became broader, These are truly poet-artist descriptions; as and then narrow again. We entered “Die Teu- they rise life-like before our mind's eye, we can felskuche,” a wide cleft in the rock, where the masses almost imagine we have been spectators of the of fallen blocks have formed a long chimnev-like scenes, and that our memory recalls them to us. opening : I looked up through it; clouds hurried past, above us, and it looked as if some ghostly being Every leaf, flower, and bird, is suggestive to the was flying away in the open air. We soon leit the poet of a deep and holy significance. Nature rocks bebind, and a wide vale extended itself before is to him the revelation of all goodness and us. The bluish white mist hung in light clonds power. How beautiful is the simile of childaround the mountain's tops, and the heavens and the hood and the Gothic church! beautiful from its earth seemed as if they would melt together in one reality. The shadows that darken the child's great mass of rock. We continued our progress, path have ever more influence over the child's and Nature's great panorama around us continually future than the sparkling sunlight that danced changed. A fine large building lay before us; it was around its hours of happiness: the shadows the inn on “ Baster" (the Bastion); for here it is descend into the heart to find there a dwellingexceedingly high. Could you place a couple of turret place or solution; the sunshine mingles with towers one on the other, and not be giddy by standing on the extreme point, you would then have some idea

the spirit's joyousness, which too often melts of its height. There is a railing, so that you cannot away as thought develops. fall. That long, pale, yellow riband down there,

Appended to these's Remarks" is a very which to your eye does not look broader than the interesting memoir of Thorwaldsen, who is visikerb stones in the street, is the river Elbe; that bly brought before the reader in a series of brown yellow willow leaf which you think is tioating poetical pictures, which Andersen delights in on it, is a long river vessel ; you can also see the men depicting.

M. T.






HER MAJESTY'S THEATRE. Verdi's operas. Malle. Cruvelli still improves, The usual style of performances which cha- increasing in favour, and, what is more important racterise the coinmencement of the season, be- still, in the acquirements which enable her to fore the advent of the greater stars, has been deserve it. Opera after opera, of all styles, hare offered to the habitués who patronise Mr. Lum- tested to the utmost the powers of this charming ley. Verdi's operas have had their custoinary young prima donna; and she still maintains her run, and despite the ebb and reaction of popular position with the capricious public and still more favour, one inight do worse than listen to such capricious press. Hear what the Morning Heworks as Ernani and I Due Foscari. But the


of her: best evidence in behalf of the much-abused

Malle. Cruvelli has added much to her credit by young Verili” is, that with the petty thunder- the personation of the character of Lucrezia Borgia

, ings of French feuilletons and English newspapers -- managers still produce, artistes still diate remembrance of Grisi, who gives it, as the

rendered one of still greater difficulty by the imme. execute, and the public still crowd to hear, Opera habitue' well knows, the highest possible tragle Amusements of the Month.


importance. Cruvelli does not throw into it the Few operas ever attained so instantaneous a popubreadth and dignity of her great contemporary, and larity as the “ Puritani.” It was produced at Paris, so far weakens the dramatic effect; but her perform- 'in 1835, and met with the most triumphant sucance is, nevertheless, marked by intelligence, earnest. ' cess. It seems to have pleased even the fastidious ness, and energy-prepossessing rather than terrible, Rossini, if we may give credit to a letter of his to a domestic rather than grand. Her vocalism in the friend at Bologna, wherein he commented in eulogis. first aria betrayed her usual truthful neatness in the tic terms upon every piece in the opera, with the exexecution of fiorid passages; but it was in the great ception of the “Suoni la tromba, ." of which he duet with the Duke, and in the final scene with observed, in his own peculiar vein, “ I need say Gennaro, that she developed her best powers, and nothing of the duet between Tamburini and Lablache, rose in the pr blic estimation. Her acting in this you must have heard it at Bologna." Bellini was a latter crisis of maternal anguish was very fine, and great favourite with the gran maestro, and much of she depicted the emotions incident to this fearful his praise must be set down to the score of friendstruggle with an impressiveness few could have ex- ship. The opera, indeed, has that in it which, in pected. Her vocal apostrophes at this terrible mo. the hands of first-rate artistes, will always insure it ment were delivered with singular feeling, involving a great reception : but though the melodies are happy a sentiment of feminine hopelessness inexpressibly and striking, and the music written throughout in a touching, and there was altogether a lesser appear- style which appeals invariably to the popular appreance of the effort--of the straining after effect-which ciation, the success of the "Puritani" is for the has hitherto blemished her exertions. Malle Cru- most part attributable to the talents of the vocalists velli thus gives proof of consideration and judgment, who originally represented the four principal chaand also of that sensitiveness to honest admonition racters; and in no opera of the period did Grisi, which may, by-and-bye, be of use to her. Few Rubini, Lablache, and Tamburini achieve more glitartists, who have come to this country without the tering laurels. The music is ever light and sparkprestige of “ a name," have advanced so steadily in ling, and though it never rises into greatness, it has the public opinion as herself; and there seems good a constant flow of that graceful and expressive mefoundation for the belief that her position as a lyrical lody beyond which Bellini had no pretensions to soar. artist will one day be an exalted one - achieved ho- “ Puritani" is, nevertheless, not one of the comnourably and securely.

poser's best works, although it appears to be one A new contralto, Mdlle. Schwartz, of much which has attained most popularity. continental repute, made her debut as Orsini, in The performance on Saturday exhibited its usual the same opera. This manifested considerable excellence, and no work of the season has elicited fearlessness, after Alboni had achieved her great more applause from the audience. Tamburini's est triumph in the self-same part. But though There is little to draw forth his histrionic powers, but

Ricardo is a finished and admirable impersonation. inferior to the queen of contraltos, Malle.

no artist knows better how to give importance to an Schwartz has great merit. She sang the cele inferior part. His first song, " Fior d'amore,” was brated “ Il Segretoin a style which, totally given with intense feeling. Tamburini's pathetic different from Alboni's, elicited the most enthu- singing is one of his greatest merits : his emotion siastic applause. Mulle. Schwartz is young, proceeds from the heart, and is figured in his coun. and pleasing in appearance; her voice is a pure tenance. In the whole of the music allotted to him contralto, extending two octaves and a half in the “Puritani,” he does not introduce a roulade, from D below the line to A above it. She will if we except an appropriate cadenza in the first prove a great acquisition when Jenny Lind, who cavatina. That one so noted for his florid execution has, we believe, already arrived, again works her should eschew fioriture, and depend solely on the enchantments. A good contralto to sing with expression of the music, is highly to be admired, and the Nightingale was sadly needed last season, invariably submitted to the true ends of vocalization.

warmly to be applauded; but Tamburini's talents are Gardoni has lost somewhat of his formality and it is needless to say that he came out with power coldness in acting, which last season diminished and effect in the duet with Giorgio, and was im. the effect of his beautiful voice and careful voca- mensely applauded. lization. Lablache is here-as great as ever in Marini was received with great applause. His every sense of the word. The ballet flourishes, Giorgio we considered last season as one of his best as it always does under Mr. Lumley. The parts. In the first movement of the duet with Grisi, much-lauded Malle. Wanthier-said to be the Piangi, O Figlia, sul mio seno," nervousness renimpersonation of genuine beauty-has made her dered his intonation uncertain, but as he proceeded, debüt, but seems not to have excited public he became more steady, and his splendid voice told admiration so much as was expected from the finely in the long duet of the second act, of which

the i. Suoni la tromba" constitutes the climax. renown which travelled before her.

Marini is not a Lablache, nor he is a Tamburini, but Royal ITALIAN OPERA.

he has a glorious voice, and is an excellent artist. The completeness and never-varying success The “Suoni la tromba,” which exhibited a generous of the operas produced here, and the universal rivalry on the part of the two vocalists, was encored repute of the artistes engaged, render detailed with tremendous acclamations.

Mario's Arturo, even with Rubini fresh in our criticism a mere repetition. Moreover, with an honesty of purpose which we submit as an ex

memory, afforded us the most unqualified delight. ample to all critics, we never judge anything most admirable efforts, and beyond question unri

Vocally considered, it is one of the great tenor's upon which we are unable to offer a personal valled in the present day. The favourite “ A te o opinion, and therefore prefer giving, instead of cara,” was rendered with consummate grace and a vague generalization, the following lively notice feeling, eliciting a burst of admiration from the audi. from The Musical World, describing the first ence, and was encored with the most vociferous ap. night of " I Puritani” this season ;

plause. But the " Ella è tremante" was his greatest

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display. Here the beauty of voice, purity of tone, , part; but Miss Vining did as much as she could, accuracy of intonation, and sympathetic expression, as did Mr. Graham in Virolet. Mrs. Warner could hardly be surpassed. Mario is positively sing- now secedes from this theatre, carrying with her ing better this year than last. His voice appears to both sympathy and good wishes. Her unsuchave gained in power and volume, while its sweet- cessful speculation at Marlyebone has in no deness is as remarkable as ever. The excitement he

gree subtracted from her histrionic fame. Vo produced on Saturday was almost unprecedented.

“ But what shall we say of Grisi's Elvira ? Would one could succeed in that ultima thule of the not the reader be surprised if we intimated that we see

Alpha Road, where the aborigines have no taste, Grisi with less satisfaction than of old as the heroine and all strangers find it, as Webster says, " the of the “Puritani ?" And yet we are inclined to think pursuit of the legitimate drama under diffithat such is the fact. It is not, however, that Grisi's culties,” even to discover the whereabouts of voice is less beautiful, or less fresh, than when she first Mrs. Warner's theatre. In our next we shall warbled so deliciously in the “ Puritani ;” nor is it have to chronicle the result of the concluding that her acting is less instinct with that sweetness feast here--the engagement of Macready for a and grace which formerly rendered it so attractive : few nights. but it is simply, that Grisi has soared beyond the beautiful into the regions of the sublime, where she

HAYMARKET. now sits enthroned, and from which she must necessarily descend if she would walk in less glorious

The chief novelty this month has been a paths. Her Elvira is still vocally exquisite, still drama called “Old Honesty,” stated (with a dramatically charming, truthful, and intense ; but slight shadowing over of the truth which the character involves neither passion nor grandeur, theatrical consciences readily allow) to be and without these impulses to her genius, we do not “written by J. M. Morton, Esq." It is, in behold Grisi towering in her pride of place. If we fact, a skilful transmutation of a well-known could free ourselves from the memories of “ Norma," French drama into one that becomes wonder“ Semiramide," “ Lucrezia Borgia,” “Anna Bo- fully English by the ingenious alteration of lena,"

.” “ Donna Anna,” and others, we should rest scenes, names, and characteristics. Still, though satisfied with the Elvira, and wish for nothing besides. But Grisi has taught us to be contented with

among our revolutionary and democracy-loving nothing less than the sublime, and we cannot separate

neighbours, working bricklayers may have sons her name from the loftier walks of lyric tragedy. Her who, after the fashion of Joseph Bradshaw, acElvira on Saturday night created an immense sensa- quire gentlemanly ways, and aspire to attorney's tion, and she never sang more delightfully in her life. daughters, the fact seems rather against the The mad scene in the second act, although in itself known peculiarities of English society. This is neither greatly dramatic nor written with much inten- the chief fault in the piece. Its plot turns upon sity, derived from her a power and grandeur that re- the accidental finding of a treasure by Michael minded us of her higher efforts. The “ Qui la voce,” Bradshaw, the bricklayer (Mr. Webster), who and the “Son vergin 'rezzosa," were rendered with has gained the deserved soubriquet of “Old all that exquisite delicacy, grace, and finish, that so Honesty." His struggles of conscience-con; audience was uproarious after each of these tran; fain appropriate the unowned money to gain for particularly belong to Grisi. The applause of the tending with the paternal affection which would scendant vocal displays, and the artist was recalled several times. In short, Grisi created a real furore his son,“ Gentleman Joe” (Mr. H. Vandenhoff), on Saturday night. The principal singers were called happiness, and the girl he loves-afford Mr. for at the end, and were received with enthusiastic Webster an opportunity for those striking intercheers. Polonini was highly efficient in the small pretations of every-day humanity peculiarly his part of Walton. The first act of “Le Diable a own, which through their vivid reality are Quatre" terminated the performance.

often so touching. There is no actor who 80 MARYLEBONE.

thoroughly transfuses himself into his part as

Webster--his delineations resemble those of his The last revival here has been “The Doubie namesake, which we hope to see a week hence Marriage” of Beaumont and Fletcher, adapted on the walls of the Royal Academy; and while to modern stage requirements by Mr. Serle. neither aims at very ideal or abstract representaThis adaptation involves considerable altera- tion, there is in both a vividness and fidelity to tions, especially towards the close of the play ; nature which, by ordinary minds, is often more and it is due to Mr. Serle to say that he has felt and appreciated, than what would be otherexecuted his task with much skill and judg- wise considered “higher art.”.

Most of the ment. The extremely complicated nature of the comicalities were vested in Keeley, who, with a plot prevents our attempting to unravel it. part evidently written up to his personal and Suffice it to say that the heroine (Juliana) is a theatrical individualities, kept the house in a matchless specimen of wife-like devotion, inso- continual titter as Toby Perch, the history, much that Campbell, in one of his criticisms on loving foreman of Michael, and the sweetheart this play, entitles her “a fine idol of the imagi- of pretty Mary Bradshaw (Miss Reynolds). And nation rather than a probable type of nature.” here we must particularize with very great praise Mrs. Warner pourtrayed this character with in the completeness of the piece in all mechanical finite success : perhaps her best scene was where peculiarities. Nothing could be more capital Juliana endures the torture rather than betray than the bricklaying of Toby and his master; her husband. In it she delineated most exqui- Webster and Keeley might have been at the sitely the courage of a woman's heart when love craft all their lives. 'Mr. H. Vandenhoff, in a. is its strength. Martia is at best an unpleasing part little above that of a walking gentleman,

Amusements of the Month.


did as well as he could, investing with con- has to “render up himself.” Moreover, the siderable interest the love-troubles and honest closet-scene, which in stage-transmutation is filial affection of Gentleman Joe. Mrs. Glover usually changed from the sublime of the poet to made a good deal of a part not particularly the ridiculousness of very pantomime, was arstriking; and Miss Reynolds looked prettily, ranged in a manner more ideal than we ever and acted naturally. The whole piece is good, hoped to see it. Mr. George Bennett's King was and deserves its success—not the less that it almost too good-it made one feel that the decarries with it an excellent moral purpose, reliction of the erring Gertrude was not so marwhich in these troublous times is not to be vellous after all. The Queen is a sad trialdespised. We always hold up the theatre the almost an unwarrantable one-for Miss Addimore as it is made—what it ought to be-a son's physique; but she got through it as well school for the cultivation of all high and noble as one might expect. It was almost as painful feelings—a great moral engine, the power of to see her gentle and womanly grace weighed which seems unknown to those who exercise down and obscured by the cumbrous parapherit. In the next successful hit which Webster naliâ of stage-royalty, as to see her mental self has made-“ Lavater the Physiognomist” – oppressed by the unsuitableness of the part she there is something very superior to the general had to play. Marston's Ghost was a very good run of Haymarket after-pieces. Mr. Webster's ghost indeed, we could not wish a better. But Larater is a delineation-psychological, philo- truth compels us to add that Hamlet is not one sophical, suggestive, intellectual—we hunt for of Mr. Phelps's most successful impersonations. all the hard words of the æsthetic school to The“ Hunchback” has shown to new advantage describe a piece of acting so purely after our own Miss Addison and Mr. George Bennett. There heart. The calm, gentle-hearted pastir, the could not be a better Master Walter than the meditative and observant philosopher, was made latter. In all touches of suppressed feeling this present to the eye ; his very peculiarities exalted actor is very successful. He never becomes unabove the touch of comedy- so that “fools who natural through overstraining after dramatic came to laugh, remained to”- sink in quiet effect. The reported fact that this season had thoughtful speculations on subjects anything witnessed his secession from Sadler's Wells to but natural to the Haymarket atmosphere. In the Olympic, is much to be regretted. Miss spite of our former serio-comic observations on Addison's Julia was a very charming piece of the practice of imitating Aristophanes, and acting; she was, however, a little in error when bringing modern characters on the stage, we she subdued her voice to a whisper during the cannot help here candidly avowing that, so long whole of the scene with the secretary, Clifford,

are treated to such Velasquez-like por- so as to become inaudible in many parts of the traits, such truthful tableaux vivans as Web- theatre. What would have been in real life a ster's Lavater, we should be very glad to see all natural and truthful expression of deep feeling, our moderu philosophers, poets, and heroes thus inust in this case be partially sacrificed to the introduced on the stage.

exigencies of the stage. But her last act was an outburst of strength and passion, given with striking and yet most chastened effect. On her

concluding and benefit-night, Miss Addison apSADLER'S WELLS

peared in the character wherein she made the Has closed its season a fortnight, and there- first impression on a London audience-Mabel, fore leaves only half the month's proceedings in the “Patrician's Daughter;" and we were defor us to chronicle. These consisted, of course, lighted to see that time had made no change in entirely of repetitions and revivals; among which her exquisite delineation of that pure picture of we have little to notice, except that the tem- womanhood which Helen Faucit first made her porary resuscitation of “Hamlet” gives us an own. Laura Addison need not fear in following opportunity of a remark or two on a performance, even after her.-D. which, with the tender conscience of a reviewer, not having seen, we before purposely omitted to criticise. The Sadler's Wells edition of “Hamlet”

LOVE'S LENTEN ENTERTAINMENTS. is brought out with every attention to dramatic propriety, and as a whole is good and complete. Fourteen years of popular favour argue in the The ghost-scenes were executed—we mean by recipient of the said favour considerable amount theatrical painters and machinists, with that of deservings; therefore it is now perfectly needtasteful, nay poetical feeling, which characterises less for us to enter into any detailed criticism all the scenic adjuncts at Sadler's Wells. The concerning Mr. Love's entertainments.

Ventragedy could not be more supernaturally triloquism, though generally in its effect conbrought upon the stage; the Ghost's disappear- sidered as a mere puerile amusement, requires, ance behind a stage-pillar with the flitting besides natural gifts, study and observation, on phantom, which showed him sailing up in the which the life-time of a clever man must be clouds, was a most capital and picturesque spent, to produce satisfactory results. The specimen of theatrical make-believe-saving that magic lantern which forms the toy of babyhood, this upward flight was hardly reconcileable with originated in the learned brain of a philosothe "sulphurous and tormenting flames” to pher. So, probably, few of the audience from which, according to its own showing, the spirit whom Mr. Love elicits.“ the loud laugh that

as we

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