166 PAGANINI-FISHING FOR POPULARITY-OCULAR ILLUSION. serted that he had never regarded them as sub-ing acclamation-so greatly were they all struck jects; and by another ordinance he forbade all smiths and farriers to shoe their mules and horses -a measure which soon compelled them to submit."-Cab. Cyc. History of Spain and Portugal. PAGANINI. with the miracle of art which they deemed me to have effected in the person of that professor." "I do most assuredly possess the secret; and when it shall be hereafter known, all the pupils of all the musical academies will run together to embrace the system, I shall publish. Then you will see them reach lofty flights, but not be One day 1 mentioned to Paganini a circumstance which had happened to me in the morn-fore." ing. I had been accosted in the street by a stranger, who, after telling me that he was conFISHING FOR POPULARITY.-There is nothing nected with the Queen's Theatre, and was a appears more suspicious in a politician, than bit of a fiddler himself, had indulged me at some publicly disclaiming all desire to gain popularilength with the gratuitous expression of his rap- ty. A number of years ago, a prominent memtures at the Italian Signor's performance, and ber of the New Hampshire Legislature, who had likewise volunteered the intelligence that was evidently anxious to gain the good opinion Paganini had composed an Opera, which would of his fellow men, embraced every opportunity be published either after his travels, or after his to declare, that he was actuated solely by disindeath; and moreover, that he possessed a grand terested motives; that he would be the last man secret respecting the violin, which he had, how-to flatter the prejudices of his party, or recomever, communicated to one individual, a certain mend any public measures, merely for the purNicolo Cindrelli, of Naples.-Believing these to pose of gaining popularity. After an harangue be random assertions, I had expressed as much in the House, which he ended as usual, with a to the loquacious stranger. Paganini now him- disclaimer of this kind, a shrewd old farmer, self undeceived me, by declaring, with great (who, by the by, was troubled with an impediemphasis, "Non e bugia, auzi e molto vero, ch'io ment in his speech,) rose and observed that the possiedo un gran segreto" (it is no falsehood, language of the gentleman on this and various but very true, that I am possessed of a grand se- other occasions, reminded him of a circumstance cret.) The following explanation, which he which once came to his knowledge: then proceeded to give me, will be read with interest, I am certain, by all who have listened to the great master's display of his thrilling art. "A baker, on entering hith thop one morning, found a thuthpithous-looking person prethent. On being athked what he wanted, he replied, that he had found the door unfathened and walked in, and wath waiting the entranth of the mathter of the thop; but, thaid he, 1 atthure you, thir, I have taken nothing from your thelves-I would thcorn to appropriate to mythelf any of your loaveth, thweet cakes, or thintherbread." But the baker, hearing him thuth unneththetharily dithclaim any evil intethion, withely thought proper to thearch him-and on turning hith pocketh inthide out, found them full of cake and thintherbread!"-News Letter. "I happened," said Paganini, 'to be at Naples" some years ago, where I met with a violoncelloplayer whom I had previously known, and known as one of the worst conceivable performers on that instrument; insomuch that the pain of listening to him amounted to a torture. The name of this tormentor was Nicolo Cindrelli. I one day took it into my head to offer him the means of escape from this predicament, by telling him that I would teach him to make his fortune, if he would pledge me his word to keep the secret, as I was anxious it should not be communicated to any one else. He passed me his word accordingly, and I went to work with him, and in three days instilled into him a totally different mode of managing his bow, &c. These three days made him a new man,-so great was the advancement he made, and so entirely had his awkward, vulgar, and rasping style disappeared. Of all this I said nothing to any one, until, on the occasion of his being about to perform at a Concert, I made a point of going there before his arrival, and addressed myself to the assembled professors and amateurs, saying, 'Gentlemen, you have here in Naples the first violoncello-player in the world!' They were instantly all eager to know whom I could possibly mean; but when I named to them Signor Nicolo Cindrelli, a laughing chorus was the result. 'But,' continued I, you have not heard him.'-'Yes, yes,' replied they, 'we have heard too much of him.'-'How long may it be since you heard him?' 'Oh! six days ago.'-'Well, well, you must hear him now.' "In short, Signor Cindrelli came, and performed at the Concert, where he threw out such dashing tones, and extracted so much effect from his instrument, as to excite their wonder CURIOUS OCULAR ILLUSION.-Sir David Brewster mentions a very curious ocular illusion which occurred to himself, while engaged writing the work now before us. He was seated at a table, with two candles before him, when upon directing his eyes to them, he was much surprized to observe, apparently among his hair, and nearly straight above his head, but far without the range of vision, (unless he could be supposed to see through the top of his head,) a dístinct image of one of the candles. The image was as perfect as if it had been formed by reflection from a piece of mirror glass; but where the reflecting substance was, he could not at first discover. He examined his eye brows and eye lashes, but in vain. At length his lady tried her skill; and after a minute search she perceived, between two eye lashes, a very minute speck, which, on being removed, turned out to be a chip of red wax, highly polished, which was the real mirror, on the occasion, and which had probably started into his eye when breaking the seal of a letter, a short time before he observed the phenomenon. An unphilosophical person might have gone mad, or have sent for his physician in an agony of terror, under such circumstances. UNREHEARSED STAGE EFFECT. Unrehearsed Stage Effect. When Kemble was in the zenith of his fame, he had an engagement at the New Castle theatre to play Hamlet on a certain night. The leading actor of that company was Bensley, an artist of the old school, who on this occasion was cast for the Ghost. The high popularity of Kemble rendered his name an attractive feature in the bills, and with the jealousy inherent in theatricals, Bensley was much annoyed at having to second the greatness of the London star. He, however, studied the part, but having received it at short notice, in much tribulation, in his usual cold, sententious manner, walking about all day studying and slapping his forehead, anxiously waiting for the night, and as anxiously wishing it was over; amazingly tormented by an apprehension, that the affair would in some way or other injure his reputation. When the time for dressing came, Bensley's fears were not a jot abated; he put on the leather armor, which fitted him horribly, cursing by turns the Ghost, the armor, and the manager. At length the curtain rang up, and it occurred to Bensley, that a moderate draught, taken in time, might give him firmness, and thereupon still repeating his part at intervals, he summoned his dresser to his aid. "Dresser! Mark me!' (repeating his character) if ever thou didst thy dear father love.' I am not in the habit of taking strong liquors on the nights on which I perform, but dresser-prithee go to the public-house over the way, and bring me a small glass of brandy and water." When the brandy and water came, the first scene going on all this while-Bensley drank it off at a draught; but as he set the empty glass down, to his surprise he perceived a strong sediment at the bottom of it; he immediately sent the dresser back to the 'Crown,' desiring him to enquire what the landlord meant by sending him so filthy a potation. Within the next minute he was called to go upon the stage and still grumbling about the liquor, and the character, he walked down stairs, and made bis entre as the buried majesty of Denmark: but no sooner had John Kemble-with 'Angels and ministers of grace defend us'-started on one side, than his eye caught the landlady of the Crown, who, with imploring eyes and uplifted hands, beckoned him to come off. Bensley made up his mind that the woman was frantic, and went on with his part as well as he could, it being in that scene only dumb show-beckoning and signing to Hamlet very solemnly with his truncheon, and looking cannon-balls over his shoulder at the landlady, who was so vociferous as to be heard almost at the back of the gallery: at length the time of exit came-" What the devil, madam, is the matter with you?" "The matter! oh, Mr. Bensley, oh! forgive me-on my knees-poor miserable sinner that I am." 167 -as was no candle; oh! on my knees!". Sir, I cannot help that, I am poisoned." Sir, I what can I do? I tell you I am poisoned-they don't suppose I'm in the agonies of death." "Well, but my dear Bensley, if you are poisoned, you can play this one scene-what are we to do?" At last Kemble, who did not perfectly understand what was meant, absolutely hurried him on the stage, and they began the scene together; Bensley playing the ghost under the full conviction that, in five minutes, he should be a ghost in earnest: the play, under these auspicious circumstances, proceeding thus: Hamlet. Whither wilt thou lead me-speak, I'll go no further. Ghost. Mark me! (I shan't be able to go much further.) Hamlet. Alas! poor Ghost. Ghost. Pity me not, (I'm a dead man, I'm poisoned) I'm your father's spirit, (oh! that cursed brandy and water,) doomed for a certain time to walk-(this is my last night.) Hamlet. Oh! heavens! Ghost. Murder most foul-(keeps the Crown over the way) as in the best it is; (Is the doctor come?) but this most strange, foul, and unnatural-(I shall never get through.) Hamlet. Haste me to know it. Ghost. Sleeping within mine orchard-(oh! that cursed public house,) my custom always in the afternoon, (brandy and water) with juice of cursed hebenon-(red arsenic) the leprous distilment--(meant for the rats.) Hamlet. Oh! my prophetic soul! mine uncle! Ghost. (I'm dying with red arsenic. I must go off.) Hamlet. (Stay a little, you will descend immediately.) Ghost. Oh! I am thy father's spirit; (cursed brandy.) Hamlet. Go on, I'll follow thee. (Go off, I'll apologise.) Mr. Kemble then addressed the audience"Ladies and gentlemen, I am placed in a most extraordinary situation. Mr. Benson is taken so suddenly and alarmingly ill, that he finds it impossible to continue his part at present; but hopes, with your kind indulgence, to be able in a few minutes to proceed." The audience received the apology very kindly, and the curtain fell. In the mean time a medical man had been sent for, who examined the said poisonous glass, and declared that whatever it contained, it was any thing else but arsenic. In the end it turned out, that the dresser having himself brought the brandy and water to the theatre, had accidental“Oh, yes; oh! forgive me; my eldest daugh-ly let fall a lump of rose-pink, intended to make ter set the glass on the shelf with red arsenic blood for the murder in the ensuing melo-drama in it for the rats; I mixed it in the dusk, there-and so ended this ludicrous scene. "Why, what in the name of the fiend, ails the Woman! "The glass-brandy and water, sir-red arsenic-oh! sir, you are poisoned." "Poisoned!" exclaimed Bensley. F. That I would in less than the snapping of a pistol. W. And if you should, where would be the advantage? F. Why I would kill you of course. W. But suppose I would not fight? F. Then I would post you for a liar and a coward. W. That probably would not hurt me, and certainly would not benefit you. Your posting me would not prove you any the less of a fool; the original charge, if it had any force, would remain the same though you were to post me a thousand times. F. It would be some satisfaction at least to stigmatize you. W. But suppose that I should accept your challenge and kill you? F. Why, then my honor would be satisfied. W. But the charge of fool would still cling to your memory, and those who once had charity enough to believe you possessed some little sense, would be thoroughly convinced by the last act of your life that you were a fool. They would say-Here lies that fellow F. who in order to convince people that he was not a fool, 'died as a fool dieth.' F. Do you mean to insinuate that I am a fool? W. Certainly not. I know you would challenge me; and I have not the least desire to be killed just now, nor do I feel bloody minded enough to wish to kill you or any other man. But suppose I should call you a fool, and being challenged, I should be fool enough to fight, and you should kill me, what advantage would you gain? F. I would wipe out the stigma of being called a fool. W. How so? You would not prove yourself any the less a fool by having stood up to be shot at though you should chance to escape death. The original charge would still remain with the same force as formerly. F. But I should gratify my revenge, and that would be some comfort. W. That is on the supposition you kill me; but if I killed you, then, friend F. you would say nothing of the gratification. The truth is, your whole plea of wiping out a stigma; whether it be of a fool, liar, scoundrel, or what not, has no foundation in reason or sound argument; because the challenging, the killing, the posting, or whatever may be the result, leaves the original question, whether the of fensive charge be true or false, precisely where it was before the challenge. A fool may call out a wise man, a liar, a man of truth, a scoundrel, an honest man, &c. The mere circumstance of challenging or fighting, does not place the challenger on higher ground, or alter his relative position for the better. F. What would you have a man do, then, when he is insulted or slandered? W. Do! Why, if he is an honest man and a good citizen, continue so by faithfully observing the laws and fulfilling all his duties as a worthy member of society. On the contrary, if he is a bad man, the best thing he can do is to set about amendment; and instead of killing his adversary, be careful to give him no further cause to speak evil of him. F. And so let the stigma remain upon his own charac ter! W. Let him do as I have mentioned, and he will soonest get rid of the stigma. An honest and true man is like pure gold, a tarnish cannot adhere to him. The harder he is rubbed the brighter he shines.-N. Y. Constellation. A REBUS. Three letters do compose my name, A TOUCHSTONE FOR THE TIMES. PORTRAIT OF A LADY. WITH EMBELLISHMENTS BY HERSELF. Not very young-not very pretty, I thought this hard, but could not doubt it, I studied bravely day and night, I judge by fashion--not by reason, I listen "with a face of praise:" Sometimes, through hurry or mistake, I make good pudding-and bad rhymes! I can be constant-for a while- I cannot count-it pleased the fates, Folks say that I am pretty too, I toss my head with so much grace. Small hands, blue veins, and pretty feet! I am a fortune in myself! This sparkling gem is still unset, Only a riddle, like the rest. |