The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 17, No. 472, January 22, 1831. Various

you? Nursed by you, and not regard you? Made for you, and not seek you! And since we were made before you, should we not live and admire you as the last and most perfect work of Nature? Man was made when Nature was but an apprentice; but Woman when she was a skilful mistress of her art. By your love we live in double breath, even in our offspring after death. Are not all vices masculine, and virtues feminine? Are not the muses the loves of the learned? Do not all noble spirits follow the graces because they are women? There is but one phoenix, and she is a female. Was not the princess and foundress of good arts, Minerva, born of the brain of highest Jove, a woman? Has not woman the face of love, the tongue of persuasion, and the body of delight? O divine, perfectioned woman! If to be of thy sex is so excellent, what is it then to be a woman enriched by nature, made excellent by education, noble by birth, chaste by virtue, adorned by beauty!—a fair woman, which is the ornament of heaven, the grace of earth, the joy of life, and the delight of all sense, even the very summum bonum of man's existence."

      Burns must have had somewhat of the same idea as that which I have underlined, when he wrote—

      "Her 'prentice han' she tried on man,

      And then she made the lasses O!"

JAC-CO.

      THE VICTORY OF THE CID

(For the Mirror.)

      The subject of the following lines is mentioned in the traditional histories of Spain: that on one occasion, to insure victory in a nocturnal attack on the Moslem camp, the body of the Cid was taken from the tomb, and carried in complete armour to the field of battle.

      Not a voice was heard at our hour of need,

      When we plac'd the corse on his barbed steed,

      Save one, that the blessing gave.

      Not a light beam'd on the charnel porch

      Save the glare which flash'd from the warrior's torch,

      O'er the death-pale face of the brave.

      We press'd the helm on his ghastly head,

      We bound a sword to the hand of the dead,

      When the Cid went forth to fight.

      Oh where was Castile's battle cry,

      The shout of St. James and victory,

      And the Christians stalwart might?

      The winds swept by with mournful blast,

      And sigh'd through the plumes of the dead as he past,

      Through troublous skies the clouds flitted fast,

      And the moon her pale beam faintly cast,

      Where the red cross banner stream'd,

      But each breeze bore the shouts of the Moslem throng,

      Each sigh was echoed by Paynim song;

      Where the silvery crescent beam'd.

      Undrawn was the rein, and his own good sword

      Ungrasp'd by the nerveless hand of its lord;

      His steed pac'd on with solemn tread,

      'Neath the listless weight of the mighty deed.

      But each warrior's heart beat high,

      As he mark'd the beacon's wavering flash,

      And heard the Moorish cymbal clash,

      For he knew that the Cid was nigh.

      We bore him back to his silent bed,

      When his plumes with Paynim blood were red,

      And the mass was sung, and the prayer was said

      For the conqueror from the grave.

      We wrapp'd him again in his funeral vest,

      We placed his sword on the clay cold breast,

      And o'er the place of the hero's rest,

      Bade Castile's banner wave.

      SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY

      THE AEOLOPHON, A NEWLY-INVENTED INSTRUMENT

      When Lord Stanhope first launched his model-boat on the Serpentine, no one expected to see the time when steam and paddles should suffice to carry "a tall ship" across the broad Atlantic. As little did we, when we were first amused by that very pretty musical toy, the German Eolina, anticipate, that within three years we should hear such an instrument as the one we are about to describe. In shape, size, and compass, the AEOLOPHON is the counterpart of a babinet piano-forte, having six octaves of keys extending from FF to F; and its sounds are produced by a series of metallic springs, set in vibration by the action of the air produced from a bellows. It has three pedals—one for filling the wind-chest, and the others regulating the swell. The tone of this instrument, particularly in the middle and lower parts of its compass, is among the most beautiful we have ever heard, and much superior, both in body and quality, to that of any chamber organ of equal size; added to which, the Aeolophon has the inestimable advantage of never varying its pitch, or getting out of tune.

      From the nature of this instrument, it will be readily conceived that its best effects are displayed in slow movements, and the sustaining and swelling long notes; but, to our surprise as well as pleasure, we found that a running passage, even of semitones, could be executed upon it, if not with all the distinctness of a Drouet or a Nicholson, with as much clearness as on any organ. As an accompaniment to the piano-forte, it will be found an admirable substitute for the flute, clarinet, oboe, bassoon, or even violoncello; but perhaps its widest range of usefulness will be discovered in small orchestras, where the set of wind instruments is incomplete—the effects of any, or even all of which, may be supplied by one or two performers on the Aeolophon reading from the score, or even from separate parts.

      It is now about a year since that a patent was obtained for the springs, and this peculiar mode of applying them, by Messrs. Day and Co.; immediately upon hearing the effect of which, Mr. Chappell, of Bond-street, entered into an engagement with the patentees for the agency of their patent, and the manufacture of instruments under it.

      On the 27th of November last Mr. Chappell was honoured with a command to exhibit the powers of this new instrument before their Majesties, his Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex, and a small circle of nobility, at St. James's Palace; when it gave so much satisfaction, that some of the pieces played upon it were repeated by command, and the whole performance lasted from nine o'clock till past eleven, when the royal party retired.

      (We quote the preceding from The Harmonicon, a Journal of Music and Musical Literature, of high promise. Its recommendation of The Aeolophon may be allowed to rest upon the character of the Journal for critical acumen.)

      THE SKETCH-BOOK

      COACH COMPANY

(For the Mirror.)

      Returning (said my friend Mrs. S.) once upon a time, some fifty miles from a country visit, a few difficulties regarding my conveyance to town were at length decided by my taking a seat in the – Telegraph. A respectable-looking, middle-aged woman, in widow's mourning, was, I found, to be my companion for the whole way, whose urbanity and loquacity, combined, soon afforded me the important information that she was travelling over England, in order to take the advice of several of the faculty touching the case of "a poor cripple—a gentleman—a relation of hers." A gentleman! But scarcely had I taken another survey of the honest dame, in order to assure myself that she at least was not a member of the aristocracy of Great Britain, and thereby to instruct my judgment as to the actual rank of him whom she designated by so proud a title, when I was favoured with a long history of "the lady who lost her shawl, which I found—and she has visited me ever since." A lady!—and a lady, good, agreeable, and condescending, no doubt; but—the query occurred to my mind involuntarily—what kind of lady must she be who would "come oft'n to take a cup o' tea, or a sup o' sommat better, wi' me, in my poor little place?"

      I confess, this voluntary information, not less than the tone and language in which