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r fety*
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■Cour friends.
MUSICAL.
mi by some
rape distinct cljfljgf
|ii,” viz :Jdm
Jpt churcf^Gfytmi’
Pb-Tlty of mime is, such as
y?'’ fffor the parlor or school room,
f|P%ltMrument and the voice ac
■y each other ; this kind of music
Com P os hion,
- :J-<. ;■* * s ’ M° ,n ,!le <or ’
. V p Kto imncirm
/';• y - bl not wit h-
W com-
Eomi p:\r
'i* 4 ’ ‘’ r W*' c (s a;o
muUfNpHpßPgp^^^^^vhich
rail rule is
concerned ; they all though
this position is W e
urge that all music com’
posed, must maintain one fundamental
principle, harmoniously, viz: A key or
tonic sound, as a foundation, and the
principle of leading note as subservient
to the tonic, just as though the notes were
to be called by a given name to express
their proper position in intonation; by
this rule all musicians must be governed
in the preservation of the practical scale,
and in this one particular portion of sys
tem all the variety concentrates. We
are apprised this idea will meet opposi*
tion, if so, let us hear from the npposer,
and we will go into the investigation at
length. .Sup.
ANSWERS TO UTTLE SUSA’S
QUESTIONS.
Q. Where did Flats and Sharps first
originate ?
A. According to ancient history, they
originated in Germany.
Q. Who was the inventor of thenr. ?
A. Guido invented them, to prevent
moving the Cliffs.
Q. Has there ever existed any other
keys besides the two present keys, name*
ly the major and minor?
A. Not primarily; there were the va
riety of substitutes, and bore the name of
Keys, without attaching the name of ma
jor or minor to them, and were only sub
■fluent to a kind of artificial taste, with*
oui any substantial value, and were of but
short duration.
Q. What is Sa'cred Music?
A. Sacred music is of that quality of
composition which is calculated to pro*
duce a sacred effect, in strict accordance
■uth the true principles of religious de*
Kin.
■raAt what age of the world did the
■ table system originate ?
Bt same historian referred to
Ki they were introduced in the
were continued in use
itad then abandoned for
i|then Mr. Pestalosi
’ it in
, ’ %, tjmy. about the
pof a juvenile
mT hy
Kd do
Redness. The abo^H^gmost
Ijof anything- we have on the
Byrthorough Bass?
dis*
lw>o -
BBssion of the
PPHTe playful breeze
the same time Hgh-
and tender leaflets,
Earing upon its breath a mille-Jleur odor
Erfectly intoxicating to young ladies in
Pvc, and not at all ungrateful to a
riped of the opposite gender, with an em
bryo moustache. All nature seemed to
ft united in a silent but expressive rend*
king of praise to Him who sendeth rain
n the just and the unjust. It was one
■tefweetest April mornings that ever
softened and made better the
Ik .nan, since the days of primeval
Mence and Paradisical beatitude.
Bn such a morn, did three bachelors—
Kldihg to the charming invitations of
Bseasorb and having the dreamy vis-
B of Isaac Walton before their eyes—
Blertmne upon a piscatory expedition
pnd “a day in the woods.” Fishing ta
cle, and all needlul stores for the excur
sion, were soon procured, and our worthy
triolet off on foot with buoyant hearts
atHft high expectancy,—the earth seemed
to glide beneath their light feet; spark
lingJijLand happy repartee enlivened
theiflßiversarioi).
Astltey proceeded their thoughts fell
into a more serious vein and graver sub
jecfs were discussed ; among others was
marriage—the comparative pleasures ol
a married and bachelor life.—The Chan-,
cellor, (who, bye thesbye was a married
man, but had so happy an art of accom
modating himself to the feelings and fel
lowsbip of a bachelor as almost, at times,
to be mistaken for one; and be this said
without any aspersion upon his hymeniai
qualities, for I verily believe that he is
one of the very best of the few good
husbands I ever knew,) espoused the af
firmative, and discoursed most eloquently
upon the advantages and superior pleas
ures of a married life; its gentle and be
fitting restraints, its quiet enjoyments.
“Ah! my friends,” said he, “you know
nothing of true happiness; you spend
your time more in seeking than enjoying;
yours is a face in which the prize is nevs
er won, it is always in the prospective.
You think you have much delight in the
associations of friendship; its sympathies,
and what you term its unbounded coufi
dencies, but where are those little
thoughts that lie deep buried in the soul;
where those little sorrows that a friend
might deem weaknesses, or if he did not,
his sympathies could not alleviate.-
Where your plans for the future, your
aspirations, your hopes? These are what
form the great concernments of your lives,
and in which you most need sympathy;
and this sympathy can only come from
that gentle being who has fixed her des
tiny with yours; who has excited and is
impressed with a love pure, and unbound*
ed as the mind itself, who from the very
instincts and depth of her affections is
your councillor; whose tenderness be*
guiles the cares of life and plucks every
thorn from its roses. Ah ! sirs, this is
not happiness pursued, it is happiness
possessed.
While the Chancellor was speaking,
the Major's face gradually assumed a pen
sive seriousness: his fancy seemed to
have taken wing, and his thoughts had
far outstripped his powers of utterance—
he was silent.
In the application of the subject how*
ever, the name of a young lady was men*
tioned; and it was remarked, that if any
thing could render her more lovely or add
to her general amiability, it would be a
little sweetning of temper. The Major
halted upon the instant, and with that
chivalric indignation that it ever ready
in the defence of injured innocence de
picted in his countenance, he drew him
self up precisely au inch and a half above
his shirt collar, and delivered himself as
follows: “Gentlemen, I have loved your
society, and have hitherto entsrtained
the highest respect for your opinions, but
I will not take salt nor break bread with
any who could entertain, much less give
expression to a sentiment so unjust to the
most peerless of women-”
The Chancellor immediately explained
that he was mistaken ; that nothing de
rogatory to the lady was intended, it was
only meant to be said of her that she pos
sessed just enough spirit, when having
subsided into the sober hues of matrimo
ny, to dispel the ennui of the position,
and might possibly throw in a few inter
ludes, which would but tend to give a
pleasing variety to any superabundance
of quietude that might pertain to the
marital state ; whereupon the Major, by
his usual bland smile, indicated & recon
ciliatipn, and we pursued the “even ten*
.orof our, way.”
HhdJaiS’ time we had traversed about
■rs and a half, through a lovely
Ikhill and dell, and now found
whose chrystal waters came
leaping, laugh-
sunlight now
PBrrolten glass it glides
bed; now it twirls into
and then subsides into a quiet
Kolas if tarrying, while in its joyous
Burse, to pass a kind word of salutation
To the flowers that bend over to kiss it
from the bank ; thus it meanders through
forest, field and brake far away to the
southward.
The Major is perfectly delighted with
the scene, “ how lovely ! how beautiful!”
He becomes poetical, and placing him
self upon a bank, in a theatrical attitude,
he proceeds—
“ There is a pleasure in the pathless woods.
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes,
By the ripling brook, and music in its
r-o-a-r.
The last rhyming word was somewhat
ungracefully prolonged by an effort to re
gain his balance, but too late ; the yield
ing bank had crumbled beneath his feet,
and the Major went floundering in the
water; he picked himself up and came
striding out, doubtless, his poetic ardor
considerably cooled, and not at all prepar
ed to relish the joke as did the Chancel
lor and myself. “ 1 say, Chancellor,”
said he, “ what a fine thing it was I went
in the creek instead of you.”
*’ How so, Major?”
” Why, you see I care nothing partic
ularly about it, and I shall get no ‘ Cau
dle Lecture’ when J go home to-night.”
” Ay, that’s true,” said the Chancellor,
“and that isn’t alt yow Won’t get; when
you go home to night with a cold, and
slight head ache, you won’t get any nice
composition tea, and a white pillow,
smoothed down by a whiter hand, which
rests for a moment upon your throbbing
temples, with the gentle enquiry—• it’s
better now, is’nt it ?’ certainly it’s better.
You don’t know what a luxury it is for a
married man to be a little sick. Caudle
Lectures, indeed ! there are in reality no
such things; they were written by a
bachelor, and have no existence save in
the idle reveries of a bachelor’s brain.”
The Major made no reply, but pro
ceeded, silently, to attach his line to the
end of a small pole, procured for the oc
casion ; and we were soon in the medios
rese of the sport. You may write books,
and talk about your trout-fishing ; where
one may creep cautiously for a whole
day through briar and brake: and then
perhaps, not hook more than half a dozen;
it won’t begin to compare with minnow
fishing, such as we had that day. How
the little fellows would leap to seize the
bait; what gyrations in the limpid waters;
now the Chancellor lias twitched out a
red pearch ; then a roach, now a horny
head is dangling at the Major’s hook;
out glides a ‘ silversides’ trophy to the
skill of your bumble servant. Ah ! you
may believe it is lively sport: lively, sir
We had met with fine success; many
a captive was flouncing in the basket,
and we were proceeding down stream,
when our progress was interrupted by a
rail fence; certainly, a very slight obstacle
to an agile and determined bachelor. I
waA few paces in advance, and with
one bound was seated upon the fence,
but did not maintain the position long;
the top rail saw proper to change its posi
tion just as I bestrode it, and I toppled
over with a considerable crash among
some light brush and leaves on the other
side. This was a fine offset to the Major’s
plunge and he enjoyed it excessively
I looked through the fence at him; he
was perfectly speechless with merriment,
he stamped upon the ground, writhed
and twisted himself about, and exhibited
various other funny symptoms ol delight.
An idea struck me, I slipped my hand
cautiously into my coat pocket, as if feel
ing for broken glass. “ Wbat!”excW*.
ed the Major, “you hav’nt broke that
flask.” I did not reply, but continued
the expressive pnntomine; by this his
mirth had dissipated as suddenly as did
Bob Acres’ courage. “ Bacchus and
Belzebub”—an article not to be drank,
but only sipped. “Gentlemen,” contic
ued he, as his indignation increased, “ I
believe none who know me have ever
thought me vindictive or cruel; in fact,
I am opposed to capital punishmeut, but
such a piece of criminal negligence should
not go unpunished. I move he be not
allowed to hold any farther office of hon
or or profit duiing the day and”——and
the Major’s motion was suspended by
simply holding up to his view unharmed,
a small flagon; very small, just large
enough to hold about three thimbles full
of Champaigne B. of the finest vintage.
The Major perceived he had been sold,
and made a feeble attempt to extricate
himself; turning to the Chancellor, he
said—• I might have known it was a
false alarm, for I think if his neck and
the fluid were in equal danger, I had
rather underwrite insurance on the flask
than the neck.”
Th<* Chancellor, who had taken on
himself the duties of cook, proceeded on
before to prepare dinner, while the Ma
jor and I continued angling. We per
ceived a small wreath of smoke curling
up through the forest, and soon the signal
announced all was ready. We uncoated,
dipped our hands and faces in the clear,
cool waters, and proceeded to answer th*
Chancellor’s summons. A large newspa
per supplied the place of a table-cloth,
spread out beneath the overhanging,
foliage; the viands consisted of Sardines,
eggs, cheese butter cmckers, pickles, &c.
I reckon there was never a more cheer
ful dinner party ; cerfes no dinner ever
received greater praise or a more hearty
discussion. How do you boil eggs with
out a kettle, Chancellor? enquired the
Major, as he struck his knife half and
half in one, and prepared to sprinkle the
pepper and salt. Nothing half so easy,
roll them up in two or three layers of pa
per, saturate the whole with water, open
the fire and cover them well. The
Chancellor went to the fire and returned
with one of the aforesaid cullinary im
pliments, and unrolled a dozen little fish
we had taken, nicely prepared, seasoned
and cooked to a charm ; we all partook of
them,,and all agreed they were excellent.
The major,- who is a connoiseur in ssjch
matters, pronounced the ‘‘American Sar
dines,” as proposed by the Chancellor,
equal in flavor to the French, with their
rich oils and spices.
Dinner being over, the Major was sit
ting whiffing away at one of ‘Uncle
Dick's” best Havannas, when looking up
he beheld a profusion of wild honey-suck •
les, hanging in rich and luxuriant clus
ters. just over his head. He arose, and
extending his arms, took them all in his
embrace, pressing his face again and again
among their velvety leaves, and sighing all
the while. “How fragrant I How dajiei
ouS I” “Are you fond of flowers, Major?
said I.” He bestowed a look of perfect
incredulity upon me as if to ask if I could
doubt for a moment that he was fond of
flowers and every other beautiful thing
upon this beautiful earth. •We may ad
mire but not mar them,” said I. “Ah,
that's true,” he replied, “and I’m glad to
hear you say so; you see I will not
plcuk them, but nly kiss it on the stalk,
as Shakespeare says.” So saying he re
leased them from his embrace and they
readjusted themselves in their native
beautiful festoons, with never a petal nor
a calix ruffled.
March, is the word, but the Chancellor
is missing; looking around we discover
him stretched out upon a little plat of green
moss, sleeping, slumbering by the water’s
side. “Hey, thou sluggard, awake, the
game is up!” So on we go, dipping in
here, and dipping in there, making vari*
ous contributions upon the finny tribe.—
Finally we arrive at a fence which forms
the boundary of an interminable aucces
sion of fields; the young oats and wheat
clothe the hill-sides in a rich mantle of
green ; the little stream glides through the
j meadow, we trace its nrieanderings by a
line of verdure that fringes its banks,
until it winds around a hill and is lost to
view. A solitary ploughman is turning
the glebe, whistleing as he goes, remind*
ing one of Virgil’s Bucollics; we linger
a while to admire the scene, and then
conclude, the day’s sport is done. * The
Chancellor struck across the field to meet
some friends on a mission oi humanity,
the Majoi and myself fell into a woods*
path that led towards home.
We pursued our way for some time in
pensive silence; the Major’s thoughts
seemed to have taken a melancholy turn;
I concluded, from certain twitchings of
the muscles of his face, that his reflect
tions must be of a painful character,—
“ what could his grief be !” but if he
has any, thought I, I must hold them sa
cred and not intrude upon their privacy.
I was however, about to ask him to con*
fide in me and offer him my condolence,
when he suddenly turned upon me with
the enquiry—“ Don’t your feet hurt ?”
This, of course, explained the whole.mat
ter.
VVe here, turned aside io a spring to
refresh ourselves with a cool draught and
rest awhile.
The Mnjor was seated upon a large
stone, one boot lying across his knee; I
was seated opposite him, and he com
menced to philosophize. “My friend,”
said he, ‘• there are many pleasant things
in this world; many beautiful things ;
many things to afford us pleasure if pur*
sued wirh prudence and moderation; if
we knew exactly where to stop and
where to begin ; but alas! for the frailty
of poor human nature I These distinc*
tions are so nice, we are, almost, sure to
transcend a bound on one side or the
other, hence it is said there is no happi*
ness without an alloy ‘ Now,” contin
ued he, “ we have had a delightful ram*
ble to-day, and a feast that an epicure
might covet, yet it has not been without
some draw-backs to its perfect enjoyment.’
Here the Major bestowed a look of pro*
found commisseration upon a toe that
presented very much the complexion of
a boiled shrimp. He continued, -‘satiety
is a great foe to pleasure. Why, the very
leaves do not look so fresh and green as
they did this morning when we first set
out; true, they present the same to the
eye. but their impressions are conveyed
to the mind through a medium of satiety,
which darkens and bedims them. Our
capacity to appreciate what is really love
ly, depends very much upon the condi
tion of our minds and feelings.” Here
the Major quoted from his favorite Poet,
to illustrate bis idea :
“ No mere, no more, O, never more on me,
Can the freshness of the hoart fall like dew.
Which from out every lovely thing we see,
Extracts emotions, beautiful and new.
Hived in our hearts like the bag o’ the bee,
Thiukest thou the honey with those objects
grew,
Alas! ’twas not in them, but in yon. and in
thy power
To double even the sweetness of a flower.”
“ After all,” said he, “ is it not possible
that you and J may exhaust our fund of
pleasures, such as we have now; or what
is worse, lose our capacities to en
joy them. Would it not be wise to
form other connections ; connections that
would throw around us more permanent
objects of endearment and love ; and thus
bring into play the nobler and better attri
butes of our nature.” •
The Major ceased, and 1 was turning
over in my mind the chances of his apos.
tacy, when he asked abruptly—” What
did you think of the Chancellor’s speech
this morning?” “Well. 1 don’t know,
Major,” I replied, “possibly the Chan*
cellor may have painted the ladies a little,
but for the most part I think he is right.”
The Major gazed silently for precisely
two minutes and a half, at the bubbling
sands in the bottom of the spring, and
then said in a low but impressive tone—•
“ I think so too.”
We had resumed our way ; the day
was far spent, the long shadows pointing
eastward, indicated that the sun was fast
sinking behind the western hills ;• and his
last rays lingered softly upon the modest
spires and humble homes of the little vil
lage which now appeared in sight.
THE MURDERER WARD.
The Laws of Kentucky in the case of
the despicable villain, Mat. Ward, have
been thrown aside to save a rich man
from the gallon's. The jury in the case
have all hung together and acquitted him
—much to the chagrin of the law-loving
citizens of the state of Kentucky. After
this piece of in justice, no man’s life will
be sate—the murderer and assassin may
invade his domicil, and kill him in cold
blood—and what will iollow—a packed
jury, and of course an acquittal will end it
There is not the slightest doubt but that
this was n pre-meditated murder, and the
guilty culprit should have swung for it,
and the brother, Robert Ward, should
have been confined in the penitentiary
for life as an accomplice. The scales of
justice in that particular State are uneven
in their balance, and they want badly a