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for this engraving were obtained at the daguerreotype galle- a description of wild Norwegian scenery, describing how he ry of these gentlemen, and theirs is an art particularly suited had tried to utter in music the effect it had produced upon to the transfer of the strong lineaments of senatorial faces. him-gave it me with a "fine frenzy," that pulled hard The engraving will be a curiosity. A celebrated artist is to || (and I should like to know the philosophy of that) upon the be employed for the grouping. roots of my hair. There is something weird and supernatu. ral about the man.

A couple of lads of fourteen have issued the first number of a newspaper about as large as two outspread hands, call- Mechanical dexterity on the violin has as much to do ed The Independent. I was standing in my office yester- with music, I believe, as drawing a bank-check has to do day, when one of them, a singularly beautiful and bright-with credit at the bank--a very necessary part of the matter, looking little fellow, stepped in and handed me one of his but owing its value entirely to what has gone before. Music papers with the finished air of a Ganymede. It is very clev-is mind expressed in one of the half-dozen languages we erly put together, and I should think might go as long as boys and girls (with the permission of Miller and the prophets) are perpetuated.

I am very sorry to hear that the gifted artist Inman, who has been some time ill, is supposed to be beyond hope of recovery. The country would lose in him one of its most brilliant men of genius.

The sun has been doing his work while I have been doing mine, and has blackened the earth that was white in the morning, as I have blackened this sheet that was in the morning as immaculate. I shall leave my more industrious cotemporary to go on, while I stop and dine.

The public has been in the dilemma of Captain Macheath for several days-two enchanters having appointed for their|| delights the same evening.

Late, last night, the Norwegian, Olé Bull, (pronounced Olay Bull,) did the magnanimous, and yielded the use of one of the world's entire evenings to his rival, Vieux-temps, whose concert comes off, therefore, as announced, this evening. I shall go to hear him, and will tell you all I can fathom in what I hear.

possess and as capable of logic and transfer into words, as painting or poetry, or expression of feature and gesture. Olé Bull when playing has (or ought to have) an explainable argument in his mind, and the bridge wanting between him and his audience is a translation of his musical argument into language-given before or after the performance. This he could easily do. At present, it is, to the audience, like a most eloquent oration in an unknown tongue-comprehensible only to the orator.

I have mentioned in some book, that while at Vienna, I saw a self-educated philosopher at the institute, who was discovering the link between music and geometry. He took a pane of glass and covered it sparsely with dry sand, and then, by drawing a particular note upon the edge with a fiddle-bow, he drove the sand by the vibration into a well-defined circle, or triangle, or square-whichever we chose of half-a-dozen geometrical figures. I have looked ever since, to hear of an advancement in this phase of daguerreotype. Once reduced to a grammar, music would be as articulate as oratory, and we should be able to distinguish its sense from its gibberish.

In person Olé Bull is a massive, gladiator-like creature, rather uncouth, passionately impulsive in his manners, and with a confused face, which only becomes legible with extreme animation. Wide-awake, he is often handsome

stone. If he ever work his musical logic up to his musical impulse and execution, he will hang the first lamp in the darkest chamber of human comprehension.

I have two more steps to announce to you in the advance of the gynocracy. There is a gymnasium in the upper part of Broadway, where the LADIES don the Turkish custume, and ARE TAUGHT SPARRING and CLIMBING in jackets and loose trousers. Great-coats with a snug fit to the back are superseding cloaks for ladies' out-of-door wear. "Merciful heavings!" as Dick Swiveller would say.

I do not believe that the leaven of cognoscenti, which "leavens the whole lump" into rapture with these performers, amounts to more than three people in an audience of three thousand, and I think that even those three would be puzzled to distinguish between Wallace, Olé Bull, and Vieux-fast-asleep, he is doubtless as plain as a Norwegian bouldertemps, if they played the same pieces behind a screen. (I do not mention Artot, because he plays to the heart exclusively.) Nobody with nerves can sit out a concert, it is true, without having the keys of tears occasionally swept over, as a child, thrumming a piano, will occasionally produce a sweet or mournful combination of sounds by accident. But because our eyes are once or twice moistened, and because we occasionally feel that the corner of the veil is twitched which separates us from the chainless articulation we ache after, it is no sign that we at all comprehend the drift of the player's meaning, or see into the world of complex harmony whither he gropes but confusedly himself. I have not heard the violin of Olé Bull, but I have talked with him for an hour or two, and I think he is one of the most inspired creatures, (and I should have thought so if I had met him as a savage in the woods,) whose conversation I have ever listened to. He talks a braided language of French, Italian, and English, plucking expression to himself with a clutch; and though he moulds every idea with a powerful originality, he evidently does not give birth to more than a fraction of what is writhing in his brain. If there were a volcano missing in Norway, I should fancy we had encountered it on its travelsthe crater not provided for in its human metempsychosis. Probably Olé Bull finds his violin a much more copious vent than language, for his imprisoned lava-but to coin that lava into language as he pours it out in tangled chromatics, would be to comprehend his music, and that, I say again, is not done by more than three in three thousand, if done at Very black overhead, and (between mauvais-temps and ALL! I told him I should like to hear him play a l'impro- || Vieux-temps) a fine prospect of a harvest to-night for the vista, after he had seen Niagara, and upon that he gave me hack-drivers.

I have been looking over a file of English papers, published at Canton, China, in which I find that the interpreter to the French consulate has obtained a copy of the famous Chinese Dictionary, which is an encyclopedia of the history, sciences, arts, habits and usages of the Chinese, composed at the commencement of the eighteenth century by order of the Emperour Ram-hi. A very small number of these was printed, for the emperour and principal functionaries of the empire only. It is to be reprinted immediately, with a French and English translation. Mr. Cushing goes there in a good time for finding the material he will want for researches, literary and political.

I am tempted occasionally to send you for extract some racy, brilliant and graphic sketches of the city and goingson which appear in the Aurora. If you are ever 66 gravelled for lack of matter," you will find spicy clippings in that paper. The writer, whoever he is, should be labelled.

THE DYING YEAR.
Winter is come again. The sweet south-west
Is a forgotten wind, and the strong earth
Has laid aside its mantle to be bound
By the frost-fetter. There is not a sound,
Save of the skaiter's heel, and there is laid
An icy finger on the lip of streams,
And the clear icicle hangs cold and still,
And the snow-fall is noiseless as a thought.
Spring has a rushing sound, and Summer sends
Many sweet voices with its odours out,
And Autumn rustleth its decaying robe
With a complaining whisper. Winter's dumb!
God made his ministry a silent one,
And he has given him a foot of steel
And an unlovely aspect, and a breath
Sharp to the senses-and we know that He
Tempereth well, and hath a meaning hid
Under the shadow of his hand. Look up!
And it shall be interpreted. Your home
Hath a temptation now. There is no voice
Of waters with beguiling for your ear,
And the cool forest and the meadows green
Witch not your feet away; and in the dells
There are no violets, and upon the hills
There are no sunny places to lie down.
You must go in, and by your cheerful fire
Wait for the offices of love, and hear
Accents of human tenderness, and feast
Your eye upon the beauty of the young.
It is a season for the quiet thought,

And the still reckoning with thyself. The year
Gives back the spirits of its dead, and time
Whispers the history of its vanished hours;
And the heart, calling its affections up,
Counteth its wasted treasure. Life stands still
And settles like a fountain, and the eye
Sees clearly through its depths, and noteth all
That stirred its troubled waters. It is well

That Winter with the dying year should come !

OUR ADIEU TO THE MAGAZINES.*

ate adieu! At our first leisure we shall pack up our magnetic trunk and visit in spirit the eighty thousand spots, more or less secluded and sacred, in which we have done service as a while-time and care-beguiler. Let us down softly from your height of favour, oh kind three-centarians! We leave you reluctantly. Cling to our hand at parting, and wish us well in our own-hook-tivity! Kind Graham! Kind Godey! another brace of adieus to you! And now, gentlemen and ladies who love us doubly and singly (i. e. sixpence-ly and for ourself) in the Mirror-we are yours, "from the pineal gland to the palate, from the palate to the fingers' end"— (the devotion exacted of his cook by old Anacreon, the hilarious.)

"Moxque amnes alii, que qua tulit impetus illos

In mare (i. e. Mirror) deducunt fessas erroribus undas."
For which prophetic contribution to our pages the ghost of
Ovid will "please draw at sight."

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"I have seen one like her, a stripling boy,

With the very pensive eyes;"

both of which said articles were signed with the said plaintiff's initials, "H. M." and that the said defendant has not inserted or noticed as rejected either of the said articles. The plaintiff, therefore, prays that the said defendant shall show cause why he has done neither with the articles in question. H. M. Middletown, New-Jersey, 27th Nov. 1843.

and did, afterwards, to wit, some four weeks since, leave perADIEU to the third sign of the zodiac! Adieu, oh GEMI-sonally in the office of the said Mirror, addressed to the said defendant, a second article for insertion, commencing: NI! Adieu, GODEY and GRAHAM! Most liberal of paymasters, most gentle of task-masters,-Pashas of innumerable tales, adieu! adieu! adieu! We have learned to love you in our captivity. The messenger moon which you sent, duly, to remind us, with the holding up of her silent silver finger, that it was time to write, was not more punctual than the golden echo to our compliance! Pleasant has been our correspondence! Pleasant the occasional meetings in your city of Phil-gemini-Phil-adelphia-Phil-Graham and Godey (synonyms not down in Crabbe.) Adieu to our captivity in magazine-land! We may look back from the land of promise, as the Israelites hankered after the flesh-pots of Egypt-but we shall return no more!

Adieu, oh constellation of "Principal Contributors,"† in whose company we have done our allotted shining! We leave your choral hymn in which our mal sostenuto was drowned in the general diapason, to sing and shine in a fixed star's formidable solo. We trust to be missed among the listening Misses and Mrs.-es of your expanded orbit, and to be liked and listened to, as the new moon would say, upon our own hook" hereafter. May the Pioneers in prompt payment be long able to fill your lamps with the oil of equivalent, and may you shine on, like the Pleiades, oh remaining seven! though the eighth star from the troop be departed!

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Adieu, oh flattering eighth of unquestionable quarter-dollar appreciation! Of praise paid in money we scorn to be incredulous! We believe! To the eighty thousand enlightened persons who have for us (our share) an admiration amounting (tale quale) to three cents per month, we bid an affection

*Graham and Godey have still, each, an unpublished tale and poem of ours in their pigeon holy keeping, we believe. We mention it to prevent misconstruction when they shall appear.

PRINCIPAL CONTRIBUTORS-W. C. Bryant, J. F. Cooper, R. H. Dana, J. K. Paulding, H. W. Longfellow, J. C. Neal, C. F. Hoffman, N. P. Willis."-Cover of Graham's Magazine.

You are an intrepid man, Mr. "O!" You send us a story and tell us it is "brilliant"-and so it is, ("though you say so, that shouldn't say so"-) " brilliant by the multitude of flaws, not by the quantity of light." You must go elsewhere to "turn your discases into commodity."

An anonymous friend has sent us a police report clipped from the Aurora, setting forth that a certain "Willis alias Morris" has been convicted of a "burglary in the third degree." We beg burglars in the third degree to show more tact in their nomenclature! For anything in the first de. gree, we flatter ourselves, we might serve your purpose, gentlemen-but so low down in the calendar! Of course you were detected! The little biography appended to the tail of the report is an equally inapt sequent to the name of our firm, we presume to say. "There were four or five other indictments against the prisoners, for notwithstanding they were both of them young men, they have always led vicious lives!" Rain off a duck's back.

TO OUR SUBSCRIBERS.

Your patronage would be more serviceable to us, dear reader, if you would receive the Mirror through the mail, in preference to any other medium, and thus communicating with us directly. The postmasters, as you know, are authorized to send us your letters enclosing money, &c. free of postage.

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anu reuiurcă vâmoneû îmi in ami laugh. i suoi diceche

were tight, and drawn up with such exactness that they held him suspended. He broke forth in a saint-like and solemn voice as follows:

"Gentlemen-you are assembled to commemorate my day of birth and to prepare for the jovial holidays. I give you most hearty thanks. Rise, gentlemen; over your heads will I break your pipes, and so make you knights of the or

a reason why leather-breeches were introduced by the hus-der of St. Nicholas. Live uprightly and eat koolslaw. Ab

* Standing toast.

stain from evil-I mean plum-pudding. I will attend you

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