folded their hands and shut their eyes and sang a grace, accompanied by the clarionets. This was the most affecting song of the day; it was indeed much aided by sight, but the effect was to "enforce tears" from many an eye. This being over, the music of knives and forks was heard—and the nice roast beef and boiled potatoes appeared to be gratefully, or certainly gladly received. We also passed through the girls' room, and saw them at their dinner. In the afternoon we attended church at St. Martin's-in-thefields; but as this communication is already sufficiently long, we will only speak of the organ-playing. It was in legitimate style, and formed a striking contrast to the Foundling Hospital organ. The true organ style was here given; like the organ at St. Paul's and at Westminster Abbey, there was nothing light, trifling, and silly, but the lofty diapasons told their story with a dignity and a grandeur becoming the house of God. Truly the organ is a noble instrument, but it may be awfully degraded and sadly abused! LETTER III. London Thursday Concerts, Exeter Hall. London, January 15, 1852. THIS is a series of concerts for the people, at a low charge; the prices being four shillings, two shillings, and one shilling, according to the class of seats. They consist of vocal and instrumental music, but without orchestra. They employ some five or six solo performers, and a choir of about forty-five choristers. Glees and madrigals are sung by the choir, and songs, duets, &c., by the solo voices, with piano forte pieces, violin pieces, or other instruments as it may be convenient to obtain for the different concerts. I attended the second of the series on Thursday last. The large Exeter Hall was full of people, who seemed to be much delighted with the music; indeed I thought that there was more warmth of approval exhibited there than we usually see at the best concerts with us. The solo performers were Miss Pyne, Miss Louisa Pyne, Miss Binckes, Mr. Swift, (a new tenor,) Herr Jonghmans, Mr. Cotton, and Mr. Whitworth. Miss Goddard played serenade (Don Pasquale), by Thalberg, and also an andante and rondo caprisioso by Mendelssohn, on the piano forte, and Mr. Richardson played an air with variations on the flute. Miss Binckes has a very fine voice, and sung to the great acceptance of the audience, and Miss Louisa Pyne sung quite a difficult aria by Rode, which called forth a most enthusiastic encore. The pieces for full choir were performed without accompaniment, not even the piano forte being played; and although I have heard a better chorus at home, yet this was truly good. The concert was conducted by Mr. T. H. Severn. The programme contained the music to the National Anthem, printed in full in four parts, and the whole audience joined in this the closing chorus: "God save our gracious Queen, Long may VICTORIA reigu; God save the Queen! Send her victorious, Happy and glorious, Long to reign over us, God save the Queen! "O Lord our God arise, Scatter her enemies, And make them fall. Confound their politics, Frustrate their knavish tricks, God save us all. "Thy choicest gifts in store May she defend our laws, To sing with heart and voice, God save the Queen! There is but little music in London just now it yields to the Christmas holidays, which are hardly over as yet. There is to be a grand performance of Mendelssohn's hymn of Praise and of Athalie on the 28th of January, and of Elijah on the 30th, but before that time I hope to be in Germany. LETTER IV. Gewandhaus Concert-Mendelssohn-Crowded hall-Beethoven's Symphony No. 8- Overture by Gade. LEIPSIG, January 22, 1852. I HAVE this evening had an opportunity of attending one of the famous subscription concerts in this city, known as the Gewandhaus Concerts. The concert room is not large, but convenient, and good for musical effect. The centre of the room is occupied by ladies, and the outer seats mostly by gentlemen. A narrow gallery, in which are a number of private boxes, runs round the room. The first object of attraction, after entering the room, is a fine large medallion of Mendelssohn, back of the orchestra; there is no other bust or picture in the room. It makes one feel sad when looking at this fine representation of the great modern composer, in the very room where he has been, and still is, so highly appreciated, and where he has so often triumphed gloriously, to think that he was cut off in his youth, and that the musical world, after so short a time of enjoyment, was deprived of the talents and learning of one who promised to do for music, perhaps, more than any man living. At almost every concert, more or less of his music is performed; his memory is cherished, not only here, where he was so well known, but by all the musical world, and his name shall be held in everlasting remembrance. A crowd of people were waiting round the door, when we arrived; and, although it was an hour before the time for the performance to commence, the room was filled, (save the reserved seats in the gallery,) in a few minutes after the door was opened. One must be on hand at an early hour to get a good seat. In about half an hour the members of the orchestra began to make their appearance, and as all the people in the house were talking loud, so the musicians, as they came in, one after another, began to tune, to try their instruments, and to amuse themselves by running over the scales; so that by the time they were all there, thus employed, the room was filled with sound; the more so because, as the musicians began to exercise themselves upon their instruments, the talking and laughing grew louder and louder, and at a quarter of an hour before the commencement of the music, it was a perfect Babel in the concert room, and as difficult to hear one speak as it is in a railroad car, with all the windows open, in summer. But a few minutes before the hour, the room began to grow quiet, musical expectation began to awaken, and when, as the precise moment arrived, the conductor's signal was heard, everything was still, and perfect silence took the place of noise and confusion. Another signal, and the whole band, as one man, were heard interpreting and presenting to a most attentive audience, one of the great works of the immortal Beethoven. It was the Sinfonie No. 8, F major. This is not regarded as one of Beethoven's greatest triumphs; but, although it is light and playful, it abounds in each of its four movements, with the most fanciful and imaginative melodic figures, contrapuntal points, and instrumental contrasts. Ever lively and ever new, it never tires, but holds one in a kind of musical ecstasy from beginning to end; there seems to be no place where one can relax attention, or cease to be filled with musical delight; so that at the close of each part, a good long breath naturally comes in as a relief; and one becomes conscious of the intensity of the application he has been giving to the discourse. The very first thing which strikes one, on hearing such an orchestra as this, is the perfect oneness of the violins. They do, indeed, constitute a perfect chorus-ten or more persons are playing the first violin, and as many more the second; but they are all artists, and, therefore, each one loses himself; no one is heard above the others; but all so beautifully blend as to constitute one perfect whole. This is the perfection of a chorus, be it vocal or instrumental; and this effect is produced by the Gewandhaus Orchestra. Another point, immediately noticed, is the proper proportion of wind and stringed instruments; but perhaps the most striking point, as contrasted with our American orchestras, is the perfection of the wind instruments. It is too often the case in our orchestras that some wind instrument is wanting; thus the oboe or the faggotto is often missing; and again, it is not unfrequently the case that, although there may be some one to hold these or other instruments in the hand, or up |