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The French manage to get through the Italian opera, without relief from other entertainments. It requires more ear than the English yet possess, to accomplish this in London. The grand opera of Paris also attempted once to live upon the native music; but in vain : it became as tiresome as a sitting of the academy. Louis the Great, one evening, having yawned his majesty nearly into the lockjaw, and wondering what remedy might be applied, asked of his attendant, who, a sensible and ingenious man, said, ' Sire, you must lengthen the ballets, and shorten the petticoats. This succeeded. The English have found it necessary to resort to this remedy, even from the ennui of Italian music; and many would like the return of those happy times, spoken of by Horace Walpole, when they had

operas of dancing, with music between the acts. The English themselves have produced no dancers, and like the rest of mankind, depend upon the French; but they treat the art with wonderful favor. They have often given the prima donna a hundred guineas a night ; and more than one has danced herself into the arms of a British peer,

in lawful wedlock. Admiration does not always imply talent; and we must not judge from fashion, of the impulses of nature. I know a man with the most confirmed musical incapacity, who fiddles all day as if he were a Mozart or Rossini. As for me, I do not see why the two sisters Terpsichore, Euterpe, (there is harmony in their very names,) may not live socially together, under the same roof. Dancing, no doubt, began and will end only with the world. It has attended the human race in every condition of society. Among the Africans, it is a rage; and even the American savage, the least animated of the species, has his occasional fits of violent dancing. To suppose it irreligious, is to question the benevolent intentions of nature. It is one of our instincts; an original sin, if at all sinful. It was once a part of the Jewish religious worship, and the word choir, now an ecclesiastic word, means dancing, in its etymology. It has been abused, and so has religion itself. We haye yet no one eminent in this art in America ; but I am persuaded that many are already in the lap of futurity, awaiting only time to bring out their steps. We have the abilities to imitate the vices of Europe, why not their virtues ? We have nothing more common than girls of fine, light, airy, and graceful forms, buoyant spirits, and all the other symptoms of choragic abilities. I could pick you up more than a dozen of these unlicked Taglionis in Pottsville.

Some think the fine arts cannot attain any high degree of eminence, under the tyranny of rules, from the impossibility of restraining licenses, without fettering, at the same time, rational liberty and graceful movements. My opinion is, that Mr. Colman's authority, which has so polished the two national theatres, might be extended to the King's, with propriety. There are graceless limbs to be reformed, and several attitudes to be expunged altogether; and as the Graces have a horror of straight lines, the perpendicularity of one leg to another, as well as all radical attempts at setting the lower orders over the upper, ignorance over intelligence, in short, the feet higher than the head, should be generally discountenanced. I would except Taglioni alone from this general law, as absolute monarch, and above all law. There is no gesture, however extravagant, she does not re

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commend, with a grace that ennobles what is mean, refines what is gross, and chastens what is indecent. As for public male dancers, they are hideous every where. One longs for the step of a gentle

Their perpetual exercise gives to the legs an ungraceful thickness, leaving the arms skinny and bony; and they seem to take pains to dress in a manner which shall best exhibit these deformities. Beside, one hates to see a stupid set of masculine features lighted up with love and languishment. I would as lieve see the sun setting upon a coachman's livery. The dumb show of love is the most difficult part of the acting, and it is not for every paltry face to represent it.

We were very chaste dancers in America, a few years ago; but Europe has spoiled us. I remember the very first time the French dancers came over, and recollect that they put to fight twenty of my female acquaintance, at the first onset, as if the lions had been turned loose from the menagerie. I had taken one of the fair with me to see them. Poor country cousin! She was so modest she could not bear to take the table-cloth off the table, before company, because it had legs. Only think of her embarrassment! It was her first appearance, too, at any theatre. I remember her sounding the retreat, 1 resisting, begging, supplicating, and looking over her shoulder, till she threatened to go home alone. She only remarked, next day, when I asked how she liked the dance : *If they would come up to our town, I guess they would have empty pews!' And look at us now!

But here approaches the end of my last page. I shall have to finish abruptly; postponing concerts, Vauxhall amusements, and other matters I had designed for this letter. If you are fond of the drama, let London be the fag end of your travels. I have been to its theatres, all, and always with the resolve not to go back; though I do, sometimes, as rogues go back to the penitentiary, having worse fare outside. Why did I not come when 'Johnson's learned sock was on?' when I might have kissed Mrs. Siddons' pantofles? The Italian opera alone, of all London theatricals, is delightful, and this a luxury of the rich. Your admission is half a guinea to the pit, and to the same company and same music for which you paid three shillings in Paris, where it was even decently attainable for less. The general expensiveness of London aggravates the evil, making economy a virtue. I sometimes get together a very pretty collection of sovereigns ; but they consort no better together in my pocket, than the holy alliance of sovereignties in Europe. They have the principles of dissolution in the very nature of things. I had quite a pretty reunion a month ago ; and what with divorces, elopements, seductions, and abductions, the whole family is broken up and dispersed, and I am in danger of being left in a state of orphanage, in a strange land. How to pay a guinea a day for lodging, which is the moderate rate of a Bond-street hotel, and go to the opera !

The reasons the English assign for the discredit of their drama, are, late dinners, increase of clubs, reading-rooms, lectures, and other means of intellectual employment; to which you may add, the general mismanagement of the houses, which renders them unfashionable. A seat in a French parterre is both commodious and genteel, and the saloon affords you a pleasant and fashionable promenade. What a

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deformed picture is the pit or saloon of even the English national theatres! The French do not admit females to their pits, and the number of tickets has its arbitrary limits, never exceeding the accommodation. What must we think of the common sense of a manager, who renders a place of public resort disagreeable, in order to have it frequented?

The principal dramatic writers of the day, are Knowles, Miss Mitford, Miss Baillie, Hook, Bulwer, Morton, Planche, Reynolds; and in light comedy, Moncrief, Peake, Jerrold, Buckstone, and Dibdin. Planche was paid four hundred pounds for his 'Oberon;' Knowles four hundred for 'The Hunchback;' Poole four hundred for 'Paul Pry;' and Jerrold, for 'Black-eyed Susan,' sixty pounds. These are the most brilliant examples I can find on record, of dramatic remuneration. While Southey, M'Cauly, Baron, and others, have a hundred guineas for a single review, Dibdin has written nearly three hundred pieces, and is poor; while Scribe, for about the same number in Paris, enjoys an enviable fortune, and is member of the Institute into the bargain. I will not add another word. Good night!

SWIFTLY the hours of daylight have fled;
Dark hang the clouds o'er the sun's wavy bed;
Stilly the cool dews of evening are falling,

And the night-loving owl from her wood-haunt is calling:
Now swift from my dark home I'll silently fly,

And glide through the gloom with my bright gleaming eye.

On the slope of the hill is the glance of my wings,
Through the limbs of the oak, where the rain-prophet sings;
By the skirt of the green-wood, where hangs the light dew,
O'er the grass of the meadow, my flight I pursue:

Through the star-lighted paths of the forest I'll fly,
And pierce the gray gloom with my bright gleaming eye.

Wo! to the night-moth that flits in my way;
Wo! to the tribes in the still air that play;
Wo! to the wretch in the night-dew that sings,

For the death-spirit waits on the rush of my wings!

High and low, swift and slow, through the shadows I'll fly,
While the wolf's on her track, and the owl hooteth nigh.

When the moon from her cloud-cinctured car brightly gleams,
And startles the shades with her tremulous beams,

Then loud on the night-wind I pour my wild song,

And faintly the woodlands the echoes prolong:

'Whip-poo'-will! Whip-poo'-will! through the mists rolling gray, And the tremulous moonbeams, on light wings I play.

Now the owl to the gloom of the forest has flown,
And the deer to her covert hath stealthily gone;

The lone prowling wolf to his lair is returning,

For night's shadows are lost in the blush of the morning:
Now swift to my dark home I'll silently fly,
And close on the day-light my broad gleaming eye.

MY FISHING GROUND.

BY II. H. RILEY.

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I am passionately fond of all rambling recreations in the country, but more especially that of fishing. There is an air of quietness and repose in this gentle pursuit; the whole man is in an easy good humor with himself, without absolutely revelling in excess of mirth, or becoming depressed by any disaster or ill fortune.

A little way from my dwelling, is a deep valley, through which, tumbling from fall to fall, a clear stream pursues its way, murmuring fitfully, as the breezes swell and die along its borders. Its banks are green, for a narrow space on each side, and the hills which rise around are thickly wooded to the top. There is one dark, deep pool, where the water whirls around the twisted roots of an old tree, which appears to be the rendezvous of all the piscatorial tribe that navigate that way; a kind of stopping-place - a haven of debate and consultation. Here sports the trout, bedropt with gold;' the ‘shiner,' bright as a bar of silver; the indolent .sucker,' rolling from side to side, with an easy motion ; the 'flat-fish,' bristling like an angry dog ; each intent upon his own business; some putting out of port, and some darting in; keeping, continually, a busy excitement in the little community.

Here I sit upon the fragrant grass, and pursue my sports; and I have become so familiar with the spot and its inhabitants, that I am grown to be quite a philosopher, as well as angler.

Upon the hill above me, day after day, an easy, good-natured cow, with a bell attached to her neck, goes tink-tink-tong; tink-tink, tong-tong ; passing the whole of her time in the labor of eating. She has worn a winding path down to the brook, down which she marches, with great gravity, for a little refreshment. Sometimes, when the heat is oppressive, she tarries a while, and seems quite pleased at my sports. She is a very decent, well-behaved, well-disposed animal, of good character, and industrious habits.

A large frog, with a green surtout and dark breeches, sits just opposite, looking exceedingly malicious, and apparently swelling with rage.

He seems never to consider himself quite secure on land, and stands ready at any moment for a spring. Juggero juggero !

! plump!' - and away he goes. This frog is the most distant and unsocial of all my animal acquaintance. Every time he makes his appearance, he sits tucked up in his own conceit; swelled around the neck like a corpulent pope; gloomy, taciturn, and independent; and he always leaves me without taking leave, in a very impolite manner.

The turtle is so much like an oyster, that I cannot say any thing either for or against him. He is like some men, of a negative character, who never make their actions prominent enough, either to praise or blame. A very harmless animal is the turtle.

But the whole wood is alive with birds. They assemble in the cool depths of the valley, where the air is tempered by the running water, and sing together their thousand melodies. I have watched

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