SKETCH OF A STREET CHARACTER OF CAIRO.—The Caireen donkey-boy is quite a character, and mine in particular was a perfect original. He was small and square of frame, his rich brown face relieved by the whitewash of teeth and the most brilliant black eyes, and his face beamed with a merry, yet roguish expression, like that of the Spanish, or rather Moorish, boy, in Murillo's well known masterpiece, with whom he was probably of cognate blood. Living in the streets from infancy, and familiar with the chances of out-door life, and with every description of character; waiting at the door of a mosque or a cafe, or crouching in a corner of a bazaar, he had acquired a thorough acquaintance with Caireen life; and his intellect, and, I fear, his vices, had become somewhat prematurely developed. But the finishing touch to his education was undoubtedly given by the European travelers whom he had served, and of whom he had, with the imitativeness of his age, picked up a variety of little accomplishments, particularly the oaths of different languages. His audacity had thus become consummate, and I have heard him send his fellows to —— as coolly, and in as good English, as any prototype of our own metropolis. His mussulman prejudices sat very loosely upon him, and in the midst of religious observances he grew up indifferent and prayerless. With this inevitable laxity of faith and morals, contracted by his early vagabondage, he at least acquired an emancipation from prejudice, and displayed a craving after miscellaneous information, to which his European masters were often tasked to contribute. Thrown almost in childhood upon their resources, the energy and perseverance of these boys is remarkable. My little lad had, for instance, been up the country with some English travelers, in whose service he had saved four or five hundred piastres, (four or five pounds), with which he bought the animal which I bestrode, on whose sprightliness and good qualities he was never tired of expatiating, and with the proceeds of whose labor he supported his mother and himself. He had but one habitual subject of discontent, the heavy tax imposed upon his donkey by Mehemet Ali, upon whom he invoked the curse of God; a curse, it is to be feared, uttered, not loud but deep, by all classes save the employés of government. His wind and endurance were surprising. He would trot after his donkey by the hour together, urging and prodding along with a pointed stick, as readily in the burning sandy environs, and under the noonday sun, as in the cool and shady alleys of the crowded capital; running, dodging, striking, and shouting with all the strength of his lungs, through the midst of its labyrinthine obstructions.—The Nile Boat.
MENDELSSOHN'S SKILL AS A CONDUCTOR.—In the spring of 1835. Mendelssohn was invited to come to Cologne, in order to direct the festival. Here we met again, and thanks to his kindness, I had the pleasure of being present at one of the general rehearsals, where he conducted Beethoven's Eighth Symphony. It would be a matter of difficulty to decide in which quality Mendelssohn excelled the most—whether as composer, pianist, organist, or conductor of the orchestra. Nobody ever knew better how to communicate, as if by an electric fluid, his own conceptions of a work, to a large body of performers. It was highly interesting on this occasion to contemplate the anxious attention manifested by a body of more than five hundred singers and performers, watching every glance of Mendelssohn's eye, and following, like obedient spirits, the magic wand of this musical Prospero. The admirable allegretto in B flat, of Beethoven's Symphony, not going at first to his liking, he remarked, smilingly, that he knew every one of the gentlemen engaged was capable of performing and even composing a scherzo of his own; but that just now he wanted to hear Beethoven's, which he thought had some merit. It was cheerfully repeated. "Beautiful! charming!" cried Mendelssohn, "but still too loud in two or three instances. Let us take it again, from the middle." "No, no," was the general reply of the band; "the whole movement over again for our own satisfaction;" and then they played it with the utmost delicacy and finish, Mendelssohn laying aside his baton, and listening with evident delight to the more perfect execution. "What would I have given," exclaimed he, "if Beethoven could have heard his own composition so well understood and so magnificently performed!" By thus giving alternately praise and blame, as required, spurring the slow, checking the too ardent, he obtained orchestral effects seldom equaled in our days. Need I add, that he was able to detect at once, even among a phalanx of performers, the slightest error, either of note or accent.—Life of Mendelssohn.
There is a mutual hate between the virtuous and the vicious, the spiritual and the sensual: but the pure abhor understandingly, knowing the nature of their antagonists, while the vile nurse an ignorant malignity, pained with an unacknowledged ache of envy.
Superstition In France.—The Courrier de la Meuse says: "Witchcraft is still an object of belief in our provinces. On Sunday last, in a village belonging to the arrondissement of Verdun, the keeper of the parish bull forgot to lay before the poor animal at the usual hour its accustomed allowance of provender. The bull, impatient at the delay, made a variety of efforts to regain his liberty, and at last succeeded. The first use he made of his freedom was to demolish a rabbit-hutch which was in the stable. The keeper's wife, hearing a noise, ran to the place, and as soon as she saw the bull treading mercilessly upon the rabbits with his large hoofs, seized a cudgel and showered down a volley of blows on the crupper of the devastator. But not being accustomed to this rough treatment, the bull grew angry, and fell upon his neighbors the oxen, and what with horns and hoofs, turned the stable into a scene of terror and confusion. The woman began to cry for help. Her cries were heard, and with some trouble the bull was ousted from the stable, and forthwith began to butt at everything in his path. The mayor and the adjoint of the commune were attracted to the scene of this riot, and on witnessing the animal's violence, declared, after a short deliberation, that the bull was a sorcerer, or at any rate that he was possessed with a devil, and that he ought to be conducted to the presbytery in order to be exorcised. The authorities were accordingly obeyed, and the bull was dragged or driven into the presence of the curate, who was requested to subject him to the formalities prescribed in the ritual. The good priest found no little difficulty in escaping the pressing solicitations of his parishioners. At last, however, he succeeded; but though the bull escaped exorcism, he could not elude the shambles. Condemned to death by the mayor as a sorcerer, his sentence was immediately executed."