in my life. Perhaps the most beautiful effect in the performance was the part sustained by one hundred and fifty female voices in the choir-young ladies, the accomplished daughters of the clergy, gentry, merchants, farmers, tradesmen, and professors, who sang with an enthusiastic taste and feeling, that could not be surpassed.

CHAPTER LXVIII.

FAIRY DALE.

I visited my friend Beatty, in Fairy Dale, a quiet nook, in a northern county, shut out from the world. The Chateau, small and elegant, stands upon a bank, with a trout-stream below. On the opposite hill is a grove of birch trees, where innumerable squirrels are frolicking in the branches.

An old tradition says, that on warm summer nights, in the bright moonshine, when not a breath of air is stirring, fairies hold their revels on the greensward, under a wide-spreading oak. The belief is strengthened by the rings which appear on the grass in the morning the undoubted marks of their roundelays and dances. Some persons, less poetical, will have it that these rings are made by mushrooms, which spring into life in the night time. True or false, the spot has obtained the name of Fairy Dale.

My friend had just brought home from the Garonne, an interesting young wife, a native of that country, beautifully fair, delicate and sylph-like; she was the very person to inhabit this silent retreat. Her husband, a noisy spirited sportsman, fond of hunting, fishing, and driving, was incessantly engaged in the roughest sports, in which his fair partner was ill adapted to join. A day with my friend out of doors was rather more than I liked. I was always ready to turn my face homeward for a neat French dinner that awaited us, with a bottle of choice Bordeaux. It was a luxury in the evening to loll in a well stuffed arm chair, and listen to a pianoforte sonata of Beethoven, exquisitely played by Miss S., a friend of madame. Ladies play the pianoforte and harp more taste than men. Even Bochsa's touch is too

to my

rude for my ears.

Beethoven has surpassed every preceding writer in this class of composition. He has penetrated the hidden powers of the instrument, and has brought out effects never before heard. No instrument is so capable of giving those delicate shades of sound with truth, as the pianoforte. A delightful effect is that graceful tissue of harmony which he throws round his melodies. Of the hundred pieces he has written for this instrument, those without accompaniment exhibit the greatest genius; they are the most poetic and complete, as their execution depends solely upon an individual mind. As examples,

turn to those dedicated to Haydn, which he published in his twenty-second year.

A visit to Fairy Dale invariably improved my health and spirits. To take the rough with the smooth is the most rational way of getting through life. The literary man and merchant at the desk, by their unvarying sedentary habits, make as great a mistake as the fox-hunter who unremittingly follows the hounds for six months together. Variety in our pursuits-taken with moderation-leads to cheerfulness and health. Bred and born in a large town, visits like these give an enjoyment not easily to be expressed.

The following song I left with my friends in commemoration of Fairy Dale :

SONG.-(PAGE 310.)

Queen Mab now found a hazel nut,
In the end of which a hole was cut
By the tooth of master Squirrel.

"Come in, come in, to this nut, said she,
Come closely in-be ruled by me,
Each one may here a chooser be,
For room you need not wrestle.

"Nor need you be together heaped,
So one by one, therein they crept,
And lying down, they soundly slept,
As safe as in a castle."

CHAPTER LXIX.

GENIUS.

In a long life, what an array of shining characters have I seen! Some have blazed for a time, like comets, which appear conspicuous in the heavens for a time, and then suddenly disappear. Others, burning with a less brilliant light, have steadily shone through the whole of their lives. Genius is composed of inflamable materials, that soon burn out. Mozart, Purcel, Bellini, and Donizetti, all expired in their thirty-third year; while Paisiello, Handel, and Haydn, less incandescent, lasted for more than twice that time. Another class have a just claim to the title of genius, who trifle away the best of their days. They have invention enough, but lack industry. Ease and indulgence is what they prefer. They loiter, and never finish the work they have commenced. They are clever in short flights, but unsuccessful in great ones. Idleness is a distemper from which few are free. To get the better of this time-consuming vice, Dr. Johnson recommends, when we begin to work, to go doggedly at it: write the first line though it be nonsense-only begin, and half the difficulty is overcome. What is more unsatisfactory than finding our time imperceptibly sliding away to no purpose. When Pliny went a fowling or fishing, while the nets were being got ready, he put

down what was passing in his mind, so that if he had no game to bring home, he brought home his own thoughts that were of use to him. How often do we see men, who, by dint of plodding, achieve important works, and make up their want of talent, by an unwearied application.

Cheerfulness of temper is absolutely necessary to produce anything good or great. It is a received notion abroad that we in England are the most melancholy people on earth. Mr. Addison quotes a French novelist who enters thus upon his story" In the gloomy month of November, when the people of England hang and drown themselves, a disconsolate lover walked out into the field," &c., &c. Every one should bear up against little evils and misfortunes common to human nature, if they would partake of the happiness in store for them.

There is a class of individuals who are always complaining of their fate, and drag out a miserable existence, described in the following lines:

SONG.-(PAGE 357.)

"How we dally out our days,

How we seek a thousand ways,

To find out death; the which if none,
We take our course, will show us one.

"Never was there morning yet,

Sweet as is the violet,

Which man's folly did not soon,

Wish expired ere 'twas noon.