sheet of water, like a huge lake, and the creek was foaming and dashing along at a furious rate, bearing along with it large trees, and tossing them about and spinning them round as if they were no heavier than hurdle stakes. I had no easy task to gain the smooth, quiet water which covered the flat, and had several narrow escapes of being crushed by dead logs whirling past. However, I got to dry land safely at last, and lost no time in making my way home. My people had not given themselves any trouble about me, thinking I was snug at one of our neighbours' stations, and therefore had no anxiety about me; so that had it not been for the heavy rain, I should most probably still have been in that ready-made grave. REVIVAL OF THE HISTORICAL DRAMA. Το 'O the regret of all true lovers of the historical drama, the serious illness of Mr. Rignold has necessitated the temporary withdrawal from the boards of the Queen's Theatre of Colonel Richards's historical tragedy of "Cromwell "—an event to be regretted, not alone by audi alteram partem loving audiences, who desire to study or-as they may be Royalist or Republican-admire the characters of Charles and Cromwell, as they were respectively presented by Mr. Wills at the Lyceum, and Colonel Richards at the Queen's, but in the far higher interest of the dramatic art itself. "Sir," said Dr. Johnson, to a young aspirant for literary fame, "above all things, clear your mind of cant." It would have been well had the critics and quidnuncs of the last quarter of a century taken this advice to heart instead of adopting the professional argot and windbag technicalities even now common among them. Numerous have been the fine plays which have fretted but their little hour upon the stage through the priggishness of self-satisfied critics, and the tameness or the indolence of modern audiences, which prevent them from having any opinion of their own. From the time when, after much agitation, the patent theatres were deprived of their especial privileges, and the minor theatres were opened to the legitimate, the higher drama has, as a matter of fact, been on the decline. Diffusion in place of concentration has given weakness instead of strength. The extension of railways, by offering greater facilities of transit to popular actors in London, has to a very great extent demoralized the system of circuits, the only really good training schools for actors. Another cause may have been the twisting or perversion of talent in the direction of easy adaptation, literary carpentry, and the meretricious attractions of spectacle and burlesque. Like the hare, however, fashion in art runs in a circle-concentric, if you will: the one being completed, another course is to be run, and the old resumes its place again. So, the very prominent positions which the plays of "Charles I." and "Cromwell" have gained for themselves in public estimation give promise that the original dramatic author is about to hold his own again, in defiance of scene painter and the literary cobbler of the novels of popular writers, beneath the shadow of whose names they have for some time past surreptitiously flourished. That Colonel Richards's play is a work of genius and sterling dramatic force, we would have ventured to affirm, even had it not received the careful criticism and high commendation of Thomas Carlyle, to whom it is dedicated, and who is himself the only real biographer of the Great Protector. Time was, when the pride of an actor was to train himself to the interpretation of the author's conception. The vicious-as far as art is concerned-fashion now is, to reverse this natural order of things, and for the dramatist, tailor-like, to fit his parts to the idiosyncrasies of particular actors. Nevertheless, although the fact that "Cromwell" was written years since precluded the possibility of the latter, and that it was, with respect to the time allowed for the thoroughly efficient study of the parts, and their homogeneous working, produced perhaps with insidious haste, it was a decided success; and undoubtedly, but for the accident of the illness to which we have alluded, would have had a long run at the theatre at which it was produced. Of the merits of the play as a literary work, teeming with vigorous dialogue and veritable dramatic situations, we cannot do better than quote the words of a veteran and accomplished dramatic critic on the eve of its representation: "As a dramatic scene, which would tell immensely in representation upon the stage, In conclusion, we may add that in its production the foregoing criticism was more than justified, and its acting capabilities proved by the admirable rendering of the principal characters by Messrs. Rignold, Ryder, and Miss Wallis. AMATEUR MUSICAL SOCIETIES. THE rapid and wide spread of musical knowledge throughout all ranks of society in this country is one of the most pleasing and healthful signs of the times. Of all the secondary agents of civilization -secondary, we mean, to moral and spiritual elevation-music must be admitted to occupy a high position, if not the highest. The circumstance that members of the musical profession may not always exem not lessen the abstract claims of music. It will, perhaps, compare with most other pursuits in this respect; but still there are circumstances connected with the life that are somewhat inimical to the quiet domestic existence which we are apt to consider the safest; and, besides this, the pursuit of anything for a living does, somehow, rob it greatly of its poetry and its soul-reducing. it to the sordid level of any other business. we may point to the close of the third act, where Cromwell, after the execution of the King, visits Whitehall, where the body of Charles is lying in state, and boldly looks upon the dead face of his rival. The soliloquy, and the er tire business of this scene, are dramatic and powerful in the extreme. It is the conception of a true poet, and a keen observer of human motives and feelings. Acted powerfully, the most indifferent audience would be moved by such a striking and original treatment of a most unconventional situation; while it could be easily managed so as not to become merely melodramatic or sensational. The prologue is excellent, introducing as it does some of the most characteristic leading traits in the chief personages of the play, and in preparing the audience for the tragic interest and gradual development of the later scenes. The reck-plify the highest type of civilization, does less joviality of the Cavaliers is well introduced, and contrasts capitally with the exciting scene upon the battle-field, and the first victories of Cromwell, with which the first act winds up. The second act includes a most striking scene, where Cromwell's chief supporters denounce Charles, and insist upon his death; while Cromwell himself holds back a little, and appeals to Milton. But even the gentle poet agrees with the others, and the verdict of doom is pronounced against the King. One by one, the chief characters give their reasons for demanding the issue they are bent upon. Act the third is remarkable for some vigorous speeches and animated action. A passage spoken by Milton, in which the poet prognosticates the value of Cromwell's government to England, and the high place which will be accorded to him in the history of the nation, is most eloquent, having much of the fire and spirit we find in the best of the Elizabethan dramatists, and not altogether unworthy of Shakspeare himself. The speeches of Cromwell, and the scenes depicting the death of his favourite daughter Elizabeth, are very pathetic; and the manner in which the hero's strong purpose is seen to carry him triumphantly over every obstacle, brings the play to a most effective conclusion. The last speech of Cromwell, in which he speaks rejoicingly of the greatness and increasing power of his country, will find an echo in the heart of every Englishman who hears it. We commend this play as one worthy to live and to be incorporated in the bright roll of our national drama." One of the most effectual agencies in the spread of musical knowledge is the amateur musical society. In our time we have been connected with a number, and have a knowledge of many more. It may be that these jottings may prove interesting, or even useful, to others similarly situated. The most pretentious class is the Philharmonic Society, especially in London. Such societies are the chief regular purveyors of good music of all kinds, except entire operas. The conductor must be a musician of the highest standing. The band and chorus are of the best material, and thoroughly drilled. A good many of the chorus are amateurs; but the band is professional to the backbone, and many of its members are famous soloists with their several instruments. Oratorios, cantatas, symphonies, overtures, and miscellaneous operatic selections form the staple of the programmes, which are always interpreted by the aid of artistes of the first eminence. For a young artiste to gain a hearing at such concerts is a first step to fame. The audiences can hardly be described. They will represent, more or less, the three millions or more of London, city and suburbs. Then we have the Provincial Philharmonic, or Harmonic or Musical Society. This is generally something more than a mere concert-giving institution. It is a social feature of the town. To it must subscribe every one with any pretence to taste or culture—including, of course, many whose only claim is the pretence-and every one else who aspires to belong to the "upper classes." The dress places are, consequently, largely occupied by people decently dressed, who will yet talk all through a song, treat any more noisy performance as a well-devised cover for conversation, and enter or depart without scruple in the middle of a performance. The cheaper seats are chiefly occupied by people who actually seem to have come for the music alone. It is true you see most copies of the score when a work is performed. The conductor is probably a musician of mark, hailing from London, and running down merely for the concert and one rehearsal before it. The "grinding" is necessarily done by some sub-conductor or chorus-master, before the great man comes. The principal members of the band have similar engagements in London and the provinces, and lead the same nomadic existence as their chief. The band may also include some amateurs; and the chorus is mainly composed of amateurs, with a few semi-professional church singers as leaders. The performances by such societies of oratorio and instrumental works will sometimes reach quite to the metropolitan standard, constituting an admirable local school of music. of musical attainment being higher, they will get through more music, and perhaps do it better, than in the larger societies, where the sympathy and attention of the conductor is apt to be more devoted to the instruments than to the voices. Then we have the church choir, whose weekly practice has gradually developed into a small choral society, under the precentor or organist. Its members will do psalmody, anthems, glees, and even make a frantic attempt-more gallant than wiseat one of the easier masses or oratorios. Lastly, there comes the most rudimentary of all-the "singing class," composed generally of very young folks, who have everything to learn. Hullah's system and the Tonic Sol-fa notation have greatly promoted the success of these, by facilitating the acquirement of sight-singing. A combination of the latter with the old notation, called the "union notation," may prove even more useful as a stepping-stone to learners. Such classes will learn simple harmonies with astonishing speed. In our few remarks of a general nature, the reader will understand that the reference may be to any or all of these various societies, as the case may be, and as the cap may fit. Let us look first at the most important functionary of all-viz., the conductor. He is the making or marring of the whole affair. Whether professional or amateur, he must be well up in the theory and practice of music, and incontestably superior to those he conducts; because he must not discuss nor hesitate, but direct and conduct with firmness, though not with undue peremptoriness. If he be really superior to his chorus, It is, however, to societies of more modest his decisions will not be questioned, though pretensions and more private character that they may not always be accurate; if he be the term "amateur musical society" more not so superior, then he ought not to be conproperly belongs; and, verily, their name is ductor at all. To him should be left the chief legion and their variety infinite. There is voice in selecting music, and in deciding the ordinary private society, whose members what members shall sustain solo parts. The subscribe and defray all expenses, providing first point may sometimes be left to a vote; generally their own music. They employ a but the second he must decide upon his own professional man or a talented amateur, and responsibility. He must be the best judge, give occasional concerts, admission being if not biassed in favour of his own private by invitation, or in aid of a charity. Their pupils. It need hardly be said he must be work is generally confined to choral music, able to detect the slightest error in any and they seldom have more than pianoforte part-otherwise a metronome would do as accompaniment; yet, with a clever con- well; but if his chorus be crude, he must ductor, and members admitted by test, they also have one of those universal voices will sometimes excel the more pretentious capable of taking up any part which is falterpublic societies. The individual standarding, and setting it safely on its legs again. All these qualities are necessary to pull a chorus, with literal correctness of time and tune, through an ordinary choral work; but what qualities are required to give that polish, that spirit and expression of which every work of genius is capable?-in fact, to realize, even faintly, the grand ideas which inspired the composer, and of which his composition was then probably but an imperfect embodiment. Such qualities cannot be described, and but few can possess them. Think of the rapture of singing "The Elijah" under Mendelssohn's own bâton! We must be content with much less than this, however. Imagination, and a lively fancy, he must possess. By means of these he will endeavour to put himself in the place of the composer before he can hope to realize the design of the music, or infuse it into his chorus. Just reflect upon the kind of conductors some unfortunates are saddled with. There is one full of shrugs and grimaces, who waves a fancy bâton in a time no one can follow, but with the air of a Costa, who yet could no more teach a difficult chorus or stir up his singers to any emotion-save that of laughter--were it to save his life. Still more provoking is the tall, stiff automaton of a conductor, with no expression whatever in face or gesture, except an uneasy sense of all eyes being upon him. Such men are misplaced utterly. Without the quick eye omnipresent, the ready tact, and the gentlemanly, self-possessed bearing, the highest qualities of a more solid kind are of little avail. He should be entirely free from all business details and arrangements: it will be believed that he has already quite enough to take up all his attention, and tax all his patience and temper. The next functionary in importance is the accompanist on the pianoforte. Even where a band is used at the concerts, the piano is yet essential for rehearsals. He or she must be a ready reader, a good timist, and ever ready to go over the same wearisome passage time after time for the benefit of stupid basses, tenors, altos, or trebles. Then comes the secretary, who must possess, of course, business exactness and aptitude, and an infinite amount of tact, to avoid provoking the mutual jealousies of various members; and these amongst musical folks are proverbially great. He must sweeten, soften, and tone down the imperial mandates of the conductor to the whims and vagaries of all, especially of the ladies. He must be well known to all, and subordinate all personal preferences to the interests of the society. The first essential in a chorus is an equal balance of voices in the different parts. Authorities differ as to the relative numbers of treble, alto, tenor, and bass; and these numbers, again, depend very much on the strength of the individual voices. One thing is certain, the treble and bass should be the strongest parts, while yet in most cases the alto is far too weak. Male altos are scarce, and rarely are they both sweet and effective. Boys' voices are effective-painfully so when they know the music, and get upon a note or two which they can let out; but in a year or two their voices break into the hobbledehoy state, and they are useless. Female altos, we think, are best of all; but they are not very numerous, and many girls with good alto or mezzo voices will persist in straining up to the soprano, under the absurd impression that alto is a secondary and less dignified partan idea often encouraged by silly, vain mammas. Can anything be more ridiculous, whilst such vocalists as Madame TrebelliBettini and Madame Patey are listened to with delight everywhere, than to hear ladies screaming out an indifferent A or G, and neglecting the rich, mellow notes of their natural register? If a society is desirous of attaining a high degree of excellence, some sort of musical test upon the admission of members is absolutely necessary. It is not enough that the proposer and seconder vouch for the candidate. We all know how little that is worth. It is bad enough to have a number of members who can hardly tell the key of a piece, or read the simplest air; but it is worse to have one or two incurably flat voices, or harsh and discordant voices, however true. These will utterly destroy all delicacy, and render a piano impossible. The conductors' banes are timid trebles, dragging basses, flat tenors, cracked altos. We all know the steady, regular, irrepressible alto, with the cracked voice and the green spectacles, who beats his own time-ignoring the conductor and will persist in prolonging his note beyond all the others, like the wail of a Banshee. It is very hard to have to hurt any one's feelings, but such voices should be expunged without scruple. While speaking of individuals, I would like to ask who has had the musical training of those young ladies who can play so brilliantly on the pianoforte, and sing a few songs fairly, but cannot tell the key in which a song is written-much less the modulations through which it passesor start it correctly by the pitch-fork alone? It would be very interesting to know these superficial professors. The selection of music is another very important matter, chiefly within the province of the conductor. There are several works constituting a sort of necessary curriculum for societies at first: "The Messiah," "The Creation," "Judas Maccabæus," perhaps "Elijah," or "St. Paul," a few well known masses, a modern cantata or two, and a host of glees and madrigals, by Bishop, Horsley, &c. These are of course excellent, most excellent 't were heresy to doubt it; but they do become a little monotonous to old hands. Surely musical men might unearth a number of works nearly as good, by the same old masters, though neglected; and so infuse some freshness and variety. A much more vital matter, however, is the manner in which every piece, even the simplest, is rendered. A well-trained chorus or glee party may make the simplest thing perfectly ravishing by the exquisite delicacy of their performance of it. And here it is where the amateur falls so far behind the professional musician. The former is apt to be content with merely getting through without mistakes the merest rudiment of a performance; while the latter will sing one song or glee over and over again-polishing, improving, perfecting it, until he is probably rather tired of it himself; but the audience, somehow, never tire of hearing the old, old shade, may all be there; but above and beyond these there is a subtle, indescribable something-the soul of the music-which is too often missed. A careful study of the words-if the music was written for themis very conducive to this end; though it is much neglected. We want, in fact, a dramatic rendering without dramatic gesture. To copy operatic gestures in the concertroom is absurd affectation; but a great deal may be done by the tones of the voice and the articulation of the words—a mixture of elocution with the singing. This is readily seen in such music as Elijah's declamations, or those in "Samson," as rendered by Santley; or in such choruses as the "Stone Him to Death," in "St. Paul," which a musical butcher was once caught practising to the time of his cleaver on the block-a most appropriate illustration. This dramatic rendering is also applicable to music of the softest, most plaintive, or most devotional character. The words should never be a mere vehicle for the music to be slurred over anyhow. If the music does not beautify and intensify the words, then one of the two is misplaced. Choral music is a poor and tasteless thing unless it illustrate some thought or sentiment contained in the words; and unless this sentiment is grasped and appreciated, and unless these words are enunciated intelligently and ciated intelligently and distinctly-but without any peculiarity of coarse or provincial accent-the music is likely to be only a great "sound and fury, signifying nothing." TABLE TALK. thing, because they instinctively feel the AGRAVE charge has been laid against charm of a perfect work of art-like every work of art, the result of patient labour. Amateurs can hardly expect to reach this standard; but they should constantly aim at it, and never rest content with anything less. The arts of correct breathing and of producing the best quality of tone with the least effort belong more strictly to solo singing; but a careful conductor, by a few hints, may produce a wonderful improvement in the singing of his chorus in these respects; for they are of incalculabie value to the general effect of the body of sound. Accuracy of time and tune, good tone, correct breathing and accent, light and the Government by the Pall Mall Gazette. Mr. Gladstone's administration is charged with "Nobbling the Press." The Premier, alarmed at the fact that the London organs of the Government were no longer disposed to follow him in all his doings, turned his attention to the country papers. We quote from the Pall Mall Gazette:"Why not 'nobble' the country press? The question was asked and answered. Government, or its agents, are now working a plan for inspiring the provincial newspapers with a yet fuller sense of Mr. Gladstone's merits. Everybody knows what The rigging the market' means. To counteract the depressing effect of metropolitan |