Newspaper Page Text
1852.]
piece he is about to discover to us. Two
things tend to alleviate our anxiety with
regard to the trials that befall us.
They are known to God. He takes
cognizance of the most minute circum
stances in our history. ‘‘The hairs of
your head are all numbered.” He ob
serves the silent tear that trickles down
the cheek ; he hears the sigh that escapes
from the agitated breast; he is acquaint
ed with the fears and misgivings that
sometimes rutile the tranquillity of our
spirits, and reads the language of prayer
on the tablet of the heart.
They are permitted by God. This is a
doctrine that has been much abused and
misrepresented. God permits sin, but it
is man that perpetrates it. The wicked
are called “his sword.” Jesus said to
Pilate, “Thou couldst have no power at
all against me, except it were given thee
from above.” The rage and fury of the
ungodly, as well as the elements of na
ture, are under his control, who makes
the wrath of men to praise him.
“The truth of God shall still endure,
And firm his promise stand ;
Believing souls may rest secure
In his almighty hand.”
Correspondence of the Southern Literary Gazette.
MUSICAL CORRESPONDENCE.
New- York, Nov. 1852.
My Dear Richards: —The political ex
citements have scared away our singing
birds, and the only music we have had
for the past two weeks, has been the
drum and fife. Sontag has created even
greater excitement in Philadelphia than
she did in New-York. Her new basso has
turned out to be a real gem, and per
fects the most talented company of ar
tistes we have ever had in America. The
performances of operatic and other con
certed music is anew feature in the con
cert room about to be introduced by
Madame Sontag, which will prove very
effective. Such concerts do much to re
line musical taste, and Madame Sontag
will have the satisfaction of knowing that
she has done more to elevate the stand
ard of music in America, than all the
artists whp have preceded her. For her
next concert in New-York, which takes
place on the 22d, she has engaged a cho
rus of five hundred singers and an orches
tra of seventy-five.
She commences a series of concerts in
Boston on Monday next; from there she
comes to New-Yoik for six concerts, and
then goes to Philadelphia, Baltimore and
Washington. In January she will re
turn to New-York to commence an opera
SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE.
season, at the Astor Place, when Salvi
will be added to her troupe. This will
be such an opera as we have never had
here, and will effectually solve the ques
tion, can New-York support a first class
opera company. It may also be the
means of giving us an Opera House
worthy of our city.
Alboni commences here on Tuesday
next, and I hope she will make an entire
change in her arrangements. Cheapness
in every department seems to have been
her aim, and the comparison between her
and Sontag’s concerts have been so great
that her success has been merely nominal.
It is a shame that so great an artiste
should be so sacrificed, but if she wishes
to compete with Sontag she must remo
del her entire conceit arrangement.
Flottoue’s opera of “Martha” is now
being performed at Niblo’s. Its success
on the first night was doubtful. There
are some pretty gems in it, but it has not
had sufficient care in its preparation for
the stage. Rosa Jaques is decidedly the
favourite, and is a debutante of high pio
mise.
Strakosch is creating quite an excite
ment in Baltimore with Amalia Patti.
He has not yet brought out the little
wonder in New-York, so I cannot speak of
her from my own knowledge, but I have
been told that she gives promise of be
coming the greatest singer ever yet
known. Well, why should not America
produce her musical wonders'?
Anew piano composer has sprung up,
Mr. John Pychowski, who gives promise
of making valuable additions to the pian
ists’s repertoire. His first published
piece, “The Festival March,” dedicated
to General Scott, is a fine spirited piece
and full of original musical thought.
Wallace has just issued new Variations
on the celebrated Polka Sony of Allary,
as sung by Madame Sontag. It may be
classed among his easier compositions,
and is a valuable work for teachers. He
has also translated Paganini’s “Witches’
Dance” for the piano, and has made a
work which will be as great a favourite
for the piano as it has been for the vio
lin. It has a quaintly illustrated title
page representing Paganini's dream.—
Wallace has also written a Nocturne for
three voices—“Adieu, dear native land.”
It is one of the best things of the kind I
have ever seen, and is a kind of piece
much wanted by societies and clubs. It
is classical, interesting and very effective.
Yours, Cujus Summa Est.
(Eihtnr's JOfDartmrnt.
CHARLESTON: SATURDA V. NOVEMBER 20.1852.
WINTER.
At last Winter is upon us. The depressing in
fluences which lingered about the skirts of the
melancholy Summer, have past aw, : y with her.
The good lady, withered and sad of heart, has
departed to the “tomb of the Capulets.” W r e, of
this locality, she has used unkindly ; nevertheless,
we forgive her —“ De moriuis, ml nisi bonum.”
Peace be wiih her! and a welcome to the jovial
Winter, who though he is born a greybeard, conn s
with the strength of Hercules, and the merry eyes
of Bacchus. In the tempered sunlight, and the
frosty air, there is a renewal of health, spirits and
enjoyment. It may be perceived universally. Stag
nant Trade begins to stir: streets that were hail
deserted, send foith a deafening clatter: stores hall
shut before, are open with multitudinous wares
temptingly exposed, and inviting a thousand cus
tomers. Fashionable throngs perambulate King
street, and the Bay is alive with drays. Amuse
ments of every kind are forthcoming. The tides
of life in all departments are fairly moving to
their depths. What then if the Ponds be frozen !
and the Rivers no longer musical ? What if Bo
reas threatens to become a sharp customer 1 What
if there is already a certain amount of inconven
ience in rising betimes of a morning 1 Nay! what
if it be necessary that we should become turn
coats and cloak our actions ?—these are but small
matters, when compared to the substantial bene
fits likely to accrue to us from the advent ol
cheery old Winter, whose health readers ! (one
and all,) we propose in a pint bumper, and with
“three times three.”
MAMMON.
Ay ! make way for the glorious God !
Who comas with the rush of Fate;
Bend'tiie neck to his conquering rod,
And cringe to his pomp of state :
On a kingly Car he sits enthroned,
A Victor of charmed appeals,
With a voice whose whisper is thunder toned,
And the world at his chariot wheels.
Stand by! or the mighty train will ride,
Over thy lifeless heart;
How durst thou gaze on its glittering pride.
Nor play the Courtier’s part ?
Ha! who saith ’tie a slavish crowd?
Fool! thou art stricken blind ;
What if the clank of the chain be loud,
’Tis of gold—gold—thrice refined.
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