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him as a theorist. And also as exercises they are truly methodical and progressive; for they proceed through various sorts of movement and measure, and through a variety of keys and modes, in such a manner, that we may safely pronounce them the most excellent pieces of the kind ever produced.

After those lessons follow abstracts from figured basses by six celebrated authors, being Eman, Bach, Handel, Corelli, Geminiani, Rameau, and Tartini. They contain their original signatures over the bass, and some explanatory ones by Mr Kollmann under it, as examples how the different signatures of other authors must be understood according to chap vii. of the work.

Nothing, we presume, could therefore be more deserving our introducing to the public than the valuable work above described, and we make no doubt that it will soon be found in the hands of every person who studies music. For taking it in the aggregate, we find that the language of it is clear and comprehensive, and that the doc-third as the principal part of that chord.

trines it contains are expressed and exemplified in the most brief, but perfectly complete and satisfactory manner.


It is remarkable how deeply the harmony of the major common chord is impressed in nature;

Ir is the opinion of the vulgar, that to be rich and liberal is the only requisite to become a good Amphitryon; but those who have weighed this matter, and reflected on the qualities that are indispensable to merit this title, in all its extent, are soon convinced that Heaven bestows this gift on very few persons, and that a good Amphitryon is almost as rare as a good roaster of meat.

It is certain, that with money, an excellent cook, an intelligent housekeeper, good tradesmen, a clever butler, and even a long study of the elements in which consists a good table, one may be an Amphitryon rather above mediocrity. Non in solo pane vivit homo; and the most elegant, the best chosen, and the best served dinner, may still prove a very insipid repast, if one has not the talent of well selecting one's guests, and particularly placing them conveniently at table.

for all sonorous bodies that yield more than one note, give more or less of that chord, and even birds are found that sing it. One instance of the latter is given by Mr. Shield, in his Introduction to Harmony, p. 3, in a note, where it appears that a West Indian bird, called by Nierenberg the Triton Avis (perhaps Trias Avis), not only has three distinct notes, but can even sound them at the same time. As this is added to an article of the major common chord, we suppose it to be that chord consisting of three notes, and not what is called the tritonus, or extreme sharp fourth, to which the name Triton-avis seems to allude.

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A short time since I experienced a new instance of the truth of this remark. I was invited to dine with Mr. M—, a gentleman who enjoys the reputation of being a very good master of a house, and in many respects merits it.We were about twenty-five in company, and the

To this a correspondent enables us to add, that a British bird, which he thinks is called the Green Woodpecker (Picus viridis), sings the following four distinct notes, E, G E C, D; being not only the said major chord, but even a melodious cadence from a key-note to its fifth. And the cuckoo is well known to sing a major

We make the above observations for the sake of those musical ladies and gentlemen who have frequent opportunities of hearing the natural songs of birds, as perhaps they may find more instances of their singing distinct regular notes.

dinner would have served forty. It consisted of several courses of the choisest fish, poultry, game, meat dressed in various manners, almost every vegetable that money could procure, a profusion of excellent pastry, an elegant desert, and wines that would ravish the drunkard of his senses.The dinner was placed on the table exact to a second, every thing was hot and comfortable, the guests were all people of wit and reputation, and yet I never made a more tedious or insipid dinner; the cause of which you will soon discover.

I have already said we were twenty-five in company; not one of the party were acquainted; this, to begin, does not inspire confidence; but as nothing is more fit to create it than the pleasures of the table, this would have proved but a slender inconvenience, if each had been placed as he ought.

The guests, though strangers to each other, were all intimately acquainted with the master of the house: it was his task then, to seat them properly at table; but, whether through carelessness, inattention, or ignorance, he did no such thing, but left it all to chance; you will see what. was the result.


I believe I have already said, more than once, that we were twenty-five in company. Among these there were bankers, contractors, officers, authors, country divines, merchants, artists, maThere gistrates, actors, poets, and amateurs. were, most assuredly, enough to form a very pleasant society; all depended upon their being well placed, for it is well known that in so large a company, the conversation cannot be general.

One of the divines found himself seated between a poet and an actor; the contractor beside a judge; merchants were placed close to authors, artists near contractors, officers near bankers, &c. so that each having a neighbour that spoke quite a different language, was constrained to hold his tongue after having sounded the other. During the repast, nothing scarcely was heard but monosyllables, and the noise of plates and covers was almost the only conversation at this misplaced dinner.

customary, I A few days after this feast, as went to pay my visit of digestion. The conversation naturally fell upon the dinner Mr. Mhad given us, and that gentleman complained of the almost universal silence which had reigned, and the reserve which each guest had maintained. "This would not have happened, said I, if, according to a custom that I have seen practised with success, in some houses, and which I think ought to be adopted in most entertainments, you had distributed the seats analogous to the minds of those who were to occupy them. You should have placed the poet beside the actor, who would have pitied and consoled him for the ill success of his piece, and interested him by describing the interior of the theatre. The divine and the magistrate; both wise and grave men, would have been well coupled. The banker, the merchant, and the contractor, all three united by speaking nearly the same language, would have entertained each other by conversing about the affairs on 'Change, on commerce, and their respective gains and losses, and would have reciprocally enlightened each other. The amateur, the artist, and the officer, would have been delighted to have found themselves neighbours; the first would have served as an interpreter to the other two, and all three would have established, among themselves, a conversation equally instructive and agreeable, the author in taking a part in it, would enliven it by his witticisms and well placed quotations. By this means your dinner would have been as agreeable as it was well served; your guests satisfied with each other, would have been completely so with you, and their gratitude would have been shared between the excellent fare you had given them, and the care you had taken to place them suitably.


The poet attempted to speak of his tragedy that had been damned to the divine, who entertained him with an account of his last sermon, and who comprehended nothing of what the actor had been saying on the intrigues of the stage. One of the authors had commenced a grammatical discussion with a merchant, who answered him by complaining of the stagnation in the sugar and coffee trade. The artist was describing to the contractor an historical picture which he had in contemplation, while he was regretting former times, and complaining bitterly against the probity of ministers, and the disin terestedness of their clerks, which scarcely allowed him to gain salt for his porridge, while formerly he could, with the greatest e se, fish in troubled wa'ers. The warrior and the amateur were those who understood each other best, because the latter, having a smattering of all sci-servations, thanked me, and promised to profit by ences, was not totally unacquainted with military them. In effect a few days after this, he gave a second dinner to the same company. The name tactics; but he was soon tired of listening to of each guest, written on a pretty vignette, and nothing but bastions, projectiles, and horn-works, hung to each plate, determined the order of seats, and wished much that he had been scated next and this order, combined with my remarks, placed. the artist. every body suitably. Each was enchanted with his neighbour; the conversation became animated, and consequently interesting, the appetite. encreased, for nothing gives a better, or accele rates digestion sooner than a warm discussion, the exercise of speech being most salutary at table. The guests did ample justice to each dish, to the various wines, and mutually blessed the Amphitryon, who understood so well how to suit his company, and each promised never to refuse his invitations.

My Amphitryon felt the strength of these ob

Thus each being wrongly placed, lost all their
many noughts placed
merit, similar to as
together instead of being preceded by figures.-
All the guests rose from table disgusted with each
other, and consequently with themselves, for we
are more or less pleased with ourselves, according
as our pride has been satisfied. I even observed,
that this isolated situation, which ought to have
been of service to the appetite, (for what can one
do, in a repast where we cannot chat, unless one
eat?) had in some degree paralyzed it; and to
the great regret of the Amphitryon, much less
was eaten than if the company had been well

Thus by the means of an easy precaution, which prevents trouble and precludes ceremony, one may, even with an assemblage of persons

whose minds are of an ordinary class, form a very pleasant society. To accomplish this, nothing is wanting but that the Amphitry n be gifted with a clear discrimination, and that he possesses a perfect knowledge of the character and pursuits of his guests. This plan followed, let the company be ever so numerous it never degenerates into a bustle, no one finds the time long, because the self-love of each is gratified: to the delight of great talkers and epicures the feast is prolonged without causing ennui to any one; it is

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then that that French proverb, so dear to those who are lovers of the table, is verified, which says, "qu'on ne vicillit point a table." I again repeat, all depends upon the guests being suitably placed, and the plan I have described cannot fail to meet with the approbation of every one; and for this you have only to weigh well the selflove of each, and place them so that they may be able to enjoy their own, and gratify that of their neighbours. E. R.

This original Poem by Pope, is not included in any of the common editions of his works. We preserve it as a curiosity; and, though it be a mere bagatelle, written in a spirit altogether different from the rest of this poet's works, yet it contains many picturesque passages. The sixth stanz is extremely lively, and the tenth, in which the poet has painted his own miniature, is a most exquisite likeness.

The love of arts lies cold and dead, In Halifax's urn;

And not one Muse, of all he fed,

Has had the grace to mourn.

My friends, by turns, my friends confound,
Betray, and are betray'd;

Poor Y- -'rs sold for fifty pound,
And B is a jade.

Why make I friendships with the great? When I no favour seek;

Or follow girls seven hours in eight, I need but once a week.

Still idle, with a busy air,

Deep whimsies to contrive; The gayest valetudinaire,

Most thinking rake alive.. Solicitous for others' ends,

Though fond of dear repose; Careless or drowsy with my friends, And frolic with my foes.

Laborious, lobster nights, farewell!
For sober, studious days:
And Burlington's delicious meal,

For sallad, tarts and peas.
Adieu to all but Gay alone,

Whose soul, sincere and free, Loves all mankind, but flatters none, And so may starve with me.


AH! why, unfeeling Winter, why
Still flags thy torpil wing?
Fly, melancholy season,
And yield the year to Spring,

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TAKE of sighs and of tears a prodigious large number,

Of days without joy, and of nights without

Of raptures, and dreams, and fantastical blisses,
Of heart-burning glances, and soul-thrilling kisses.
Talk of love everlasting, and pure adoration,
Say for her you would die without hesitation;
Add, that Mahomet's houreis are lost in her

And that more than his paradise dwells in her



How that love is the rampart of fame and of


That the Don his Toboso, and Sancho his isle, Wou'd have eagerly barter'd to purchase one smile.

STERN power! in realms of darkness nurst
'Midst shrieks of guilt, and moans accurst,
Where grins Despair in writhing pain,
And rapturous madness clanks his chain,→
Thee, I invoke-Gay bow'rs adieu !
Where Pleasure leads her bounding crew,

Conjure up from Don Quixotte some high-flying Blithe Health, and frolic Youth that roves
Thro' gardens and ambrosial groves,

Brisk Mirth, whose bright expanding bloom
Ne'er felt the damp of Sorrow's gloom,
Adieu! the surly evening sheds
Deep shadows o'er the mountain's heads;
Low groan the refted woodlands bleak,
The spirits of the whirlwind shriek!
Horror! with strange delightful fear,
Lead my fit soul to deserts drear;
To vast Savannas full of dread,
Where human footsteps never tread,
Or where vex'd Midnight never sleeps
Mid cataracts hoarse and howling steeps!
Or where the hoary Andes shroud

If she be not contented with chivalric ages,
You may go a few centuries back to the sages;
And, with old heathen poets, protest, that had

Beheld but her face-he had melted with love.
Then tell her that nothing but love is your food,
And with darts, Cupids, fiames, in great plenty

And if this she receive, I will dare lay my life,
In a fortnight you gain her for mistress or wife.

By the pale lamp's reflected light
I saw thy shadow on the wall,
Oh what a pleasing, rapt'rous sight,
My friend, my lover, and my all.
To cheer my solitary hours,

Thy honour'd shade I often view;
Oh, Palemon! with all my powers,

I'll trace thy image fair and true.
But, ah! the fond resemblance flies;

Yet thy dear form shall still remain;
The Gods shall hear a maiden's cries,

And Art shall cure me of my pain.
With magic pencil I will trace,

Thy features so divinely fair;
No power on earth shall e'er efface,

Though time the colours may impair.

But how imperfect is the sketch,
A faithful lover now has given;
Could I a true resemblance fetch,
From Gods above in highest heaven.

The Maid of Corinth was the origin of the art of painting; whilst she was confined in prison she gave birth to the art of delineation, in amusing herself by sketching on the wall of her cell the shadow of her passing lover.



Their stormy cliffs in many a cloud.
Which Danger, heedless of alarms,
Upclimbs with lightning-blasted arms!
To glimmering dungeons let me stray
Where the lone Captive pines away;
Where no warm sun, no summer gale
Sheds freshness on his visage pale:
There see him raise his wither'd head,
Deep groaning o'er his flinty bed,
Whilst ever-hopeless Silence low'rs,
And slow-slow lag the gloomy hours.
Wild sullen Horror! thou canst tell
What pangs the Mother's bosom swell,
When bare on distant rocks outcast
Her child's corse blisters to the blast!
Wild sullen Horror! thou hast sought
Black groves with dark collected thought,
Where erst hoar Druids met thy view,
And human victims grimly slew!
Thou heard'st their death-denouncing cries,
They bled beneath thy savage eyes.
Oh! y me oft, at gloom of night,
Where hags perform their direful rite;
And wrapt in terrors, flash on high
Their livid light'ning thwart the sky;
| Or on some victim's hated form
Dart the full fury of their storm!
For lightnings shoot, and thunders roll,
Dear, and congenial to my soul!

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