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Some of them carried firelocks, and others blunder-busses; they had all good shoes, with silk stockings, and every one a cap of cloth of gold, or cloth of silver, of different colours, on his head, which was very delightful to the eye." "The Beggars' Opera," in our own country, is another instance of the admiration that thieves excite upon the stage.

Instead of informing Marie that I was intimately acquainted with her, that I had shared every emotion of her soul, on the exciting opera night, I stated that I could call again upon brother Franz. I regretted, at the same time, that I had not my card, and left the room with a courteous bow of dismissal from Marie. I have walked that way very often.

Hilbrough was rendered uneasy by the question, Phillida was not. She turned her dark eyes upon Millard, and smiled with genuine amusement as she answered: "I have heard but one opera in my life, Mr. Millard, and that was not Wagner's." "Miss Callender," said Mrs.

These matters have nearly all been indirectly dealt with already, and as we come to review the situation, this is what we find. Minna was an impossible wife for such a man: she never could understand why he could not have remained quietly at his post in Dresden, indifferent to good or bad opera representations, and unambitious concerning the proper artistic production of his own works.

His daughter, a soft and delicate girl, touches the light guitar: catching the notes of the music from the opened opera, which is placed before the father on a massy music-stand. Her voice joins in melody with her mother, who, like all German mothers, seems only her daughter's self, subdued by an additional twenty years.

Ewald supposes her to have been with him in Paris before the affair of Vincennes . The writer, however, has seen a letter from Paris to a sister of Miss Walkinshaw describing the arrest at the Opera House, without the most distant allusion to Clementina, about whom her sister would be concerned.

Do you think I might strike a match?" "Ah, no, monsieur, not in the Opera House, They are so particular." "I see at least, I don't, and that's the trouble. However " I felt over the balcony again. No good. "Where did mademoiselle sit, monsieur?" "Where are you?" I groped in the direction of the whisper and found an arm. "In that chair there," I said, guiding her to it. "Here, monsieur?"

In all his autobiographic writings there is not a more luminous passage than the following, in which he relates his experiences as conductor at the Riga Opera in 1838, when he was at work on "Rienzi":

"Cursed life," he grumbled, "and what's bitter and insulting, this life will not end in compensation for our sufferings, it will not end with apotheosis as it would in an opera, but with death; peasants will come and drag one's dead body by the arms and the legs to the cellar. Ugh!

A symphony of Beethoven's, with its complicated movements and rich harmonies, is quite another thing from the simple melodies with which Browning so beautifully represents David as soothing the troubled spirit of Saul. And when to these are added the passionate fervor of the opera, the tax upon the nervous system is very great.