up its riches. But the greatest of all riches is the possession thou hast of so many miraculous images of Christ our Lord and his most holy mother in thy temples, and which are venerated with such devotion. Yes, it is well known that in the church of San Francisco de Potosi there is, in one of its chapels, that wonder of miracles "the Christ of the true Cross." * The manuscript, which was evidently written by an ecclesiastic, went on to the year 1686. Independently of what has been extracted, there are long accounts of Spanish superstitions and details of miracles, as well as of murderous strife and contention amongst the inhabitants. In a note there is the following: "In 1491, Don Xptoral Colon learnt, in the Canary Island, from Alonzo Sanches de Huelva, a pilot of those islands, that towards the west there were other islands, which indicated main land in that direction after having crossed the ocean; because on one occasion, Huelva, voyaging from Madeira, was overtaken by a tempest from the east, and blown to another island. With this information, Colon came to Andalusia, where he made arrangements to go towards the west in search, firmly believing that there was land, as mentioned by Huelva, who was now dead, and Colon inherited his discovery. Thus say some authors; but others affirm that the pilot who was blown towards the west on his voyage from Madeira to the Canary Island was Colon himself; and on the 11th October, 1492, one Christobel Colon discovered this New World by landing on one of its islands."* THE GREAT ORGAN AT WEINGARTEN. Whether railways be more potent as enchanters or disenchanters, let us leave to be decided by the Latter-day Prophets or the Casuists. They lay open hidden treasures, at all events. For how many a long year, while conning over the list of European organs having a pedigree and a reputation, has the name of the great organ at the Benedictine Monastery of Weingarten suggested something little less remote and visionary than if it belonged to faëry land! The new iron road from Heilbronn down to Friedrichshafen on the Lake of Constance, and in correspondence with one of the most direct and striking routes into Italy-that over the Spurgen-has destroyed the illusion, by adding another valuable possession to my list of musical experiences. the great Würtemberg Railway not at Niederbiegen, but at Ravensburg. This is as picturesque a town as sketcher's heart could desire: with its quaint crenelled gate-houses- sentinelled by huge lime-trees-not to speak of other towers and spires of great variety of form, grouping all the more picturesquely because of the uneven ground on which they stand-its odd old Rathhaus, with a steep overpowering roof, and a long row beneath of small windows; and the Veitsberg, hanging over the town, commanding a noble view towards the Lake of Constance, and close outside the gates a clear brook, which hurries down among suburb and flower and fruit gardens, to join the Schussen. Fine weather granted, I repeat that Ravensburg is one of those village towns full of many pictures It must have been the former remoteness, if which turn up in every corner of Germany, and not inaccessibility, referred to, which has caused nowhere more abundantly than in Franconia the great organ at Weingarten to be less talked and Suabia. To travellers whom solemn, reabout by the generality of tourists than the or-nowned, and not-to-be-omitted sights are apt to gans of Haarlem and of Fribourg. Murray's Red Book, it is true, informs the traveller that the huge pile which he sees on the left of the railroad-as pompous, almost, as one of the Austrian palace-monasteries shortly after passing the Niederbiegen station, is the Monastery of Weingarten, which even now is a place of pilgrimage, in consequence of its having possessed one of the real drops of blood from Calvary; but it is totally silent respecting the masterpiece of Gabler's craft. To the notice of the more questionable relic, however, do I owe the reminder which led me to halt a day for the purpose of examining one of the most genuine and unique specimens of musical architecture in existence. exhaust, such halting-places--full of unexpected beauty and unworn tradition-are doubly welcome. From Ravensburg to the great monastery is about three-quarters of an hour's walk: not precisely through a wine garden (or vineyard), as the name must have suggested, but along a rising road, shaded with cherry, walnut, and apple trees, and hemmed by meadows-some at this time of year absolutely glowing with the exquisite lilac flowers of the autumn crocus. Had not the two stately towers of the abbey church perpetually risen above and among the trees, to beckon me forward, they would have given other direction by the continuous chime of very sonorous bells, which pealed out across The walk up to Weingarten was as pleasant, the plain. Even in these days, there is someafter its kind, as most walks that I have ever thing for the imagination at least in such a symundertaken. Any future pilgrim having a paint-phony, heard up such a teeming valley, through er's eye will thank me for advising him to leave *We have inserted this article as a specimen of Peruvian literature.-ED. N.M.B.A. the sunshine of a breezy autumn afternoon. The argument of this tolling, too, was followed by the exhibition of another of those pictures which are so interesting to the mind as well as to the eye of the wayfarer. There was that afternoon | stops and four couplers. The touch is deep and a great funeral in the village of Altdorf (the collection of houses which has sheltered itself at the feet of the great inonastery). A child, too, had to be buried; and every creature in the place was out to take part in the two ceremonies. The train that followed the child's coffin, crowned with its garland of roses, stopped at a corner where the two village streets met; a neighbour brought, from a house hard by, a chair for the little coffin to rest on, while the entire company-the women in their strange ample disc-like head-dresses of black lace and gold tissue, and the men wearing rosaries at their wrists (a thing I have not seen till now)-recited a prayer. Then, all waited silently in the sunshine, till we heard coming down another street the sonnd of a larger multitude muttering prayers; and, soon after, the priests, and the crucifixes, and the incense-swingers, and the man's coffin, followed by some hundreds of persons, came into view. As it passed, those who waited on the dead child fell meekly into the procession, and slowly wound their way towards the churchyard; and for about half-anhour, with the exception of myself on the high flight of steps leading up to the great church, and a bright-haired little girl timorously peeping at the stranger from an upper window, there did not seem to be one solitary living thing astir in the village of Altdorf. When at length the tide of the mourners began to flow back, the Lehrer had to be sought out-and this done (with very good-natured acquiescence on his part), we went up to the organ. The abbey church is a grand building in the Italian style, with a semicircular recess at the west end, pierced with six windows. Round these a large part of Gabler's organ is arranged -to speak fancifully--stalactite-wise; the rest of the instrument being thrown to the front of the gallery, which holds the musicians. The consequence of this is, not only a certain rich and capricious lightness in the design of the organ front-which includes no less than ten separate buffets (or groups of pipes), and is profusely decorated with gilt scrolls, symbols, palm branches, and other rococo ornaments-but an arrangement of the keys of great comfort to the player, who here sits at a detatched desk (handsomely ornamented with marquetrie), with clear space all around him, and none of those masses of sound directly over head that contribute so largely to the fatigue of the organist should he be in the least sensitive. Those who recollect how severely Mendelssohn used to complain of "the noise above him" will think, with me, that any contrivance, by which the touch of an organ is not seriously weighted, for the relief of the player, is worth a note of admiration. The tax on his physical and mental energy is sufficient in itself, without the architect's neglect adding to it; and the matter, as one too little considered, is hereby recommended to the scientific adjustment of organ builders. The instrument at Weingarten has four ranges of keys, besides the pedal-board, seventy-two heavy; but I think not so much so as that of some of the organs in Holland-the one in the Oude Kerke at Amsterdam particularly remembered. It is difficult to recollect from year to year-to compare betwixt place and place; and I must not forget that at Weingarten I fell in with a more solid and less tricksy player than those who generally exhibit these musical leviathans :-still, I am disposed to think that I have never heard the quality of full and very powerful sound in greater perfection than from the Weingarten organ-the pedal portion of which struck me as singularly solid, sweet, and massive, with out disproportionate ponderosity. The general effect of tone is decidedly brilliant-clear alike of the slightest French scream, from which even the works of MM. Cavaillé and Ducroquet are not exempt, and of that cottony thickness of sound with which our English organs, when not strident, are sometimes chargeable. The solo stops, vox humana, flute, &c., are in greater perfection elsewhere-at Haarlem, and certainly at Fribourg. But the instrument was somewhat out of tune; "just"-as, oddly enough, is apt to happen in the case of all famous organsabout to be put in order for a festival which was to take place at the end of the month. Would I wait for that, I should hear it in all its glory." 66 This was not to be. No one, however, who loves a great organ would grudge a second pil grimage to Weingarten, by a route so easy and through a country so beautiful as that to be traversed, and among a people so cordial and hearty in their good-nature as those of the land seem to be. Further, the amateur may begin at Ludwigsburg, where the Herren Walker bare a large establishment for the building of organsand thence proceed to try the Zwiefalten organ, built by Martin (Gabler's partner), which has been revised by the Herren Walker aforesaid, and is now in the Stiftskirshe at Stuttgardt. A year or two hence-earlier perhaps he may hear at Ulm what is promised to be the largest organ in the world, and which the modern builders just mentioned, who have undertaken it, announce shall be their masterpiece. The very old truism being borne in mind, that since organs are not flimsy vagabond things like harps, pianos, violins, and even contrabassi, but after their kind, as much fixed structures as Ladychapels, wood-screens, and tombs, they must be sought out by, since assuredly they will not seek, the dilettante. Their extraordinary power and grandeur-their varieties of structure-yet, withal, their separateness of existence in, and the smallness of their influence on, the general world of music-are so many facts to engage, not merely technical curiosity, but also philosophical speculation, on the part of those who love, while they enjoy, to think.—Athenæum. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. (Written AFTER Shakespeare.) BY MARIA NORRIS. Well, it's flattering-it's positively flattering, to look twice in the glass before starting on a you know; and that's all about it." visit to Miss Evelyn. "Oh, it is, Sir! Me and Captain Holt's man has made similar remarks ever since Mrs. Evelyn has been so attentive. It's very easy to see, Sir, they have a great respect for you; and Miss Evelyn-beg your pardon, Sir-is as tall and fine a lady as ever-as ever loved a soldier." "Precisely-pre-cisely so, Jackson-' As ever loved a soldier!' Ah, to be sure, ladies are proverbially fond of red coats, are they not?" "Bless you, Sir, yes. When I was own man to Major Boultbee, we stayed at the inn at Canterbury, where a public-ball was given. I happened to pass the room, and there was a good sprinkling of officers. They could pick and choose where they liked, and the civil 'uns" "The who, Jackson? Oh, I see-the civilians. Go on." "Well, Sir, the black coats might just have stayed away for all the good they did. If the ladies could not dance with officers, they walked about with their friends or sat sighing over their bookys. Two of the loveliest creatures in Kent-cousins, and sworn friends till that time-quarrelled about one little Ensign with a small red imperial on his chin. La, Sir, you have no idea of the confusiasm ladies feel for officers." "Dear me, Jackson, is it possible! Well, I suppose I must go to this fete champêtre; it won't do to refuse. Miss Evelyn's own hand has written the card, I see. I think I must go?" "Never do to say no, Sir. People are so at home and free at a feat like this; and Miss Evelyn, I'll be bound, reckons on you. Captain Holt's card was wrote in the old lady's-I beg pardon, Sir-in Mrs. Evelyn's hand. A day in the country, Sir, all conversation, book-muslin, music and champagne, is worth any money to a gentleman in love. Never do to say no, Sir." "Well, clear away, then; and I'll acknowledge the invitation." Jackson proceeded to clear the table at which his boyish master sat. It was spread with silver plate, of all shapes and sizes, and provision enough for a garrison. Jackson was a man of vivid imagination, and he multiplied his master's appetite by forty. The poor little Lieutenant had not much appetite this morning. He was but a boy, and was quite as pleased as a boy with the prospect of what Jackson called a feat," the invitation for which he would as soon have thought of refusing as he would have thought of neglecting Lieutenant the Hon. Frank Tresham had very lately left a home where he was the spoiled pet of the whole family. Though not remarkable for strong sense, he had so much kindness in his disposition that none could do otherwise than like him; and though his brother officers had bestowed on him the title of "Pap-spoon," and though Captain Holt himself, high and bold as he generally was, condescended to join in teasing him, he bore it all with the ineffable good humour of a vain mind, too contented with itself to see any truth in the satire of others. Mrs. Evelyn was a widow, a distant cousin of Lieutenant Tresham's mother; and when the regiment came to Dover, the young soldier had brought to the Evelyns a letter of introduction, which they had honoured by showing him all sorts of kindnesses. Lady Tresham and Mrs. Evelyn had been very fond friends in their girlhood; but circumstances had since that time separated them a great deal; they were still, however, attached to each other, and the Lieutenant reaped the benefit of their regard. Mrs. Evelyn's house was a pretty place, just out of Dover, equally noted for the convenience of its appointments and the hospitality of its mistress. Married in her youth, she had the misfortune to lose her husband at a time when the recent birth of a daughter rendered a protector doubly needful. Mrs. Evelyn was a beautiful woman, and had received subsequently many offers which the world called eligible; but she had no taste for a second marriage, and re mained a widow. As her husband had been an officer in the army, it is not remarkable that Mrs. Evelyn was particularly attentive and kind to military men; or that invitations to her pleasant parties flew about pretty freely among the officers of Lieutenant Tresham's regiment. The Lieutenant indeed had the entree of the house, and was often their only guest-sometimes by invitation, sometimes without; for Mrs. Evelyn felt in a manner bound to show particular attention to her cousin's child. There was a great attraction for the young man at Mrs. Evelyn's, in the person of Laura Evelyn-a tall, handsome girl, who was often called the Belle of Dover. She bore her honours very unconcernedly; and although she had the erect bearing and the dignified manners frequently to be found in the children of soldiers, she was as free from pride as it was possible to be. Perhaps Miss Evelyn had wanted a companion-perhaps she wished to divert her mother's attention from the pleasure she and a certain gallant officer found in each other's society-perhaps a sense of duty prompted Laura to be attentive to the son of her distant relative. However that may be, it is certain that she soon felt quite at home with Frank Tresham, and treated him with the cordial courtesy which a woman whose heart is engaged feels entitled to show to those around her. Moreover, she looked on our brave soldier as a boy, and indeed had said to him more than once "My dear boy." He sang duets with her - he helped to get specimens for her hortus siccus--he accompanied her music with his fitful warblings on the flute-he copied songs for her, in a hand she could not decipher, into an elegant green-andgold book-he fed her spaniel when every one else said the dog was mad, and when all the world refused to go near him (the dog, I mean) -he took charge of her broken fan, and had it repaired-he brought her bouquets and little morocco-bound editions of her favourite poets; and, in short, did all that a young soldier deeply in love could be expected to do. He manœuvred a whole day to find something to write about, when he knew Mrs. Evelyn was out, and thought Laura would acknowledge the note; a consummation prevented by the very good reason that Laura was with her mother-a circumstance he had not anticipated. And his goodnatured vanity prevented his seeing any obstacle that would prevent Miss Evelyn's playing Andromache to his Hector. The day of the fete arrived, and fortunately the weather was brilliant. Jackson curled his master's brown locks in the most approved style, and scented his handkerchief wonderfully. The coat, Jackson said, was ne plush ultera in the heart of tailoring; and he felt pleased with his efforts as he gave his little master the final touches with the clothes'-brush, just as a painter or a poet feels unwilling to quit a favourite work, and lingers over it to the last possible moment. Lieutenant Tresham went to Mrs. Evelyn's in a wonderful cab, drawn by a still more wonderful horse, and attended by an infinitesimal boy known as 66 Microscope"-perhaps because his small proportions rendered him difficult to be observed by the naked eye. But I must not say anything more about this rare equipage, which supplied the Lieutenant with a never-failing topic of conversation. I might as well write a nautical novel as attempt to describe technically the beauties of this important part of our friend's property; and in a nautical novel I should be appropriately enough at sea, my knowledge of naval tactics being limited to the two expressions of boxing the capstan and reefing the binnacleand conscience is not quite clear as to my correctness even to that limited extent. Mrs. Evelyn's f te was, as far as entertain ments went, pretty much like other fetes of the same kind. There was the same company of remarkable foreigners, who did things with chairs and knives, and ivory balls, which nobody ever saw done before, and which also nobody ever wants to see done again: the same fireworks at night, the same dancing on the lawn, the same elegant cold collation, the same jokes about water ices and ice creams (water I sees, and I screams, in case the reader has never heard it before), the same blushes and apologies when somebody pressed the wrong foot under the table, the same nervous gentleman who always sticks fast in that perplexing maze of rhetoric, a speech to return thanks, and sinks down, looking as if he wanted to be somebody else, and would rather not be taken for himself; and the same complaint afterwards, "that if Smith had not laughed, he should have done very well." It is always poor Smith! But there was more in this fête than lobster salad and fireworks, jugglers and dancing. Lieutenant Tresham wore his heart outside that day. Never had Laura Evelyn looked lovelier or happier he did not lead her in to the table to be sure; but he sat on one side of her, and left his own lady pretty much to her own devices; and in the shady evening, before the coloured lamps were lighted, Laura cordially took his arm, and walked up and down the cedar avenue. "I think," murmured Mars, pressing the lady's hand, "you never looked so gay or so beautiful as you do to-night!" dear cousin, I am so very, very happy. You "My dear cousin" (sweet familiarity !)—" my must have seen that I have been acting under constraint for some time past: but mamma has relented, and has finally consented to accept Captain Holt for a son-in-law. This is in confidence, Frank. Do me a favour, will you? Quietly tell Captain Holt what I have just told you, and tell him also I will come back to the tent on the lawn in time to dance the next polka of an hour. Make haste, there's a good, kind as I promised; that will be in about a quarter boy!" And the happy Laura ran in-doors again for a few minutes, to calm her overflowing spirits. Poor Tresham! He sold his cab, and wore spectacles for six months; when, being present at the marriage of Captain Holt and Miss Evelyn, he fell in love with one of the prettiest girls that ever-as Jackson neatly said—that ever loved a soldier. And so he was consoled. But Jackson advised him not to replace the cab, and a certain house in Long Acre is at present engaged, on his behalf, building a far more sociable matrimonial vehicle, on which the arms of a pretty girl, a great heiress, will be quartered with those of Tresham! OUR CONSE R V A T O R Y. Indolent! indolent!-art thou not indolent, NEW MODE OF CONVERSION IN ITALY.- Indolent! indolent!-yes, I am indolent : Only on living and loving intent. Indolent indolent! yes I am indolent : So is the cloud overhanging the mountain— So is the tremulous wave of a fountain, Uttering softly its elegant psalm— Nerve and sensation in quiet reposing, Silent as blossoms the night-dew is closing, But the full heart beating strongly and calm. Indolent! indolent!-yes I am indolent, If it be idle to gather my pleasure Indolent! indolent!-are ye not indolent, Thralls of the earth and its usages wearyToiling with gnomes where the darkness is dreary, Toiling and sinning to heap up your gold Stifling the heavenward breath of devotion Crushing the freshness of every emotionHearts like the dead, that are pulseless and cold? A. W. H. A HINT TO LONDON MANAGERS.-1,000 d. CHALLENGE. Understanding that various boasts have been made concerning the superiority of Messrs. John Donniker and L. Meyer, of Christy's Minstrels, as violinists, I hereby offer to stake the sum of 500 dollars that Master Frederick Buckley (better known as Ole Bull), aged seventeen last October, will play them, or any one engaged in Ethiopian representations, three solos on the violin -the result to be decided by a committee of twelve able musicians, six to be chosen by each party. I will also stake another 500 dollars that Mr. G. Swaine Buckley will beat G. N. Christy, of Christy's Minstrels, or any person, as a musician, in bone playing, sentimental or comic singing, banjo playing, playing on a pair of kitchen bellows, and general delineator of the Ethiopian character. The result to be decided by twelve able musicians, six to be chosen by each side.—J. B. FELLOWS, Manager and Proprietor of Fellows' Minstrels, 444, Broadway.—American Paper. CROSS PURPOSES: A DIALOGUE. I have to inform you that I was married since I saw you. So much the better. Not so much the better; for my wife proved an arrant shrew. So much the worse. Not so much the worse; for she brought me a fortune. So much the better. Not so much the better; for with the money I bought a great number of sheep, which died of the rot. So much the worse. Not so much the worse; for I sold the woo!, and with the produce I built a house. So much the better. Not so much the better; for my house was burned. So much the worse. Not so much the worse; for my wife was in it. From La Belle Assemblée for March 1806. COFFIN ORNAMENTS.--The manufacture of ornaments for coffins is a very important part of the trade; and it is curious to find, that even in this last concession to human vanity, there is a constant demand for new designs. Who is it that examines and compares the ornaments of one coffin with that of another? We never heard of the survivors of a deceased examining an |